I, Panacea (Worm SI Fanfic)

When Amy Dallon is hit on the head during the Brockton Bay bank robbery, she wakes up with a passenger in her head ...

Disclaimers:
1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.
2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, then I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, then I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations.
3) I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion.


Index
Part One: Oh No, Not Again (below)
Part Two: Getting Along
Part Three: Taking the Bull by the Horns
Part Four: Villainous Interactions
Part Five: Arguing the Point
Part Six: Arguments and Agreements
Part Seven: Questions and Answers
Part Eight: Facing the Music
Part Nine: Discoveries and Revelations
Part Ten: Anger Management
Part Eleven: Stations of Canon
Part Twelve: Escalation
Part Thirteen: Out of the Frying Pan
Part Fourteen: Moving Right Along
Part Fifteen: Arrival
Part Sixteen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the First
Part Seventeen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Second
Part Eighteen: Whatever Happened to Alexandria?
Part Nineteen: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Third
Part Twenty: Panacea at Winslow, Part the Fourth
Part Twenty-One: Just in Time
Part Twenty-Two: Negotiations
Part Twenty-Three: Playing Hardball
Part Twenty-Four: Adjustments
Part Twenty-Five: Taking Care of Business
Part Twenty-Six: One Thing After Another
Part Twenty-Seven: Do What You Gotta Do
Part Twenty-Eight: Mind Games
Part Twenty-Nine: Introductions
Part Thirty: The Beginning of the End
Part Thirty-One: Tattletale Saves the World (Part One)
Part Thirty-Two: Tattletale Saves the World (Part Two)

 

I, Panacea

A Worm SI Story

Part 1: Oh No, Not Again


14 April 2011

Brockton Bay Central Bank

Just after midday

“Eight seconds.”

Amy wasn't really sure if Tattletale was bluffing, or if she really had damaging information about Amy's real father. She did seem very sure of herself. On the other hand, Amy really didn't want these two supervillains – they weren't any older than her! - to get away with robbing the bank in broad daylight.

Gambling that the bug girl was just bluffing, that she wouldn't really cut her throat, Amy lunged free of her grip. She met Vicky's eyes as she got free; Vicky nodded slightly and went for Tattletale. The girl in the skin-tight outfit tried to get behind a desk, but Vicky simply went over it, shoving her backward with all the power of which she was capable.

For a moment, Amy thought that Glory Girl might simply fly into the wall, crushing the girl to a bloody pulp, but she stopped just short of it. Giving Tattletale a hard shove that slammed her into the wall, she put her hand over the girl's mouth. Amy approved; Tattletale's voice seemed to be the most dangerous thing about her.

Now to deal with the bug girl.

Amy began to turn back toward the second supervillain. She'd already shown herself unwilling to use the knife on Amy, so all Amy had to do -

Too late, she heard the metallic click-click-click-click.

That's not a gun.

The extendible baton caught her just above the ear. She staggered a couple of feet, then tumbled to the ground.

=///=​

“-an you hear me, miss? Hello? Can you hear me?”

There was a bright light shining in her eye. She tried to blink; the reflex happened, but it was late. A second or so after she applied the effort. The light shifted to her other eye; again, the blink was late. Really, really late.

“Can you hear me?” asked the voice again.

She tried to frame an answer, but her lips and tongue were unresponsive.

And then she answered, anyway. “Yes. I can hear you.”

That wasn't what I was going to say!

What?

The voice in the back of her head startled her. It was distinct from her own thoughts, audible over the buzz of sound around her.

“Where … where am I?” she heard herself ask, to her utter consternation. She knew where she was.

Okay, where am I?

What? Who are you? Where are you?

Right here. Who are you? What are you doing in my head? And where am I?

The man asking questions, the paramedic, asked, “Do you remember your name?”

“I, uh -” her lips faltered.

What's my name? Where am I?

I don't know what your name is, but my name's Amy Dallon. Now get out of my head!

I thought this was my head. Fuck.

“- uh, Amy Dallon -”

Whatever was controlling her lips, her speech, seemed to freeze up at that moment.

Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.

What would I be kidding you about?

A silent groan. I'm in fucking Brockton Bay again, aren't I?

Mentally, she frowned. I'm in Brockton Bay, yes. Why?

What date is it?

What does that matter to you?

A lot.

At that moment, the paramedic asked, “Miss Dallon, do you know what date it is?”

A sigh. Did you just get hit in the head by a girl who could control bugs, right after you clocked her with a fire extinguisher?

You forgot about the bit where she held a knife to my throat.

She wasn't going to use it. She just didn't want to get pummelled to a pulp by your foster sister.

Out loud, her lips said, “April fourteenth, two thousand and eleven.”

How did you know that now, when you didn't know it before?

The voice was grim. Trust me, Amy, I know this shit. Can you control your body at all? I'm letting go.

She felt a subtle relaxation, all over her body. Exerting herself, she strained to blink her eyes, move a finger, do anything.

Nothing happened.

Oh god, what's happened to me?

I have an idea. Not the how, but the what.

What? Tell me. Please.

When you got hit, you got … jarred. Jolted loose from your body. And stupid fucking me dropped into the command seat before you got back.

What? How is that even possible?

Oh, trust me. The grim tone was back. I have a habit of doing this shit.

“Amy.” The voice was Vicky's. “Can you move? Can you get up?”

She felt the stranger in her mind reassert control, and she got up, moving awkwardly. Vicky helped her, supporting her, until her footing was steady.

“Thanks,” her voice sounded strange in her ears. “Are you all right, Vicky?”

Glory Girl's face was blotched with insect bites, and her eyes were reddened. “I'll be fine. I'll be a lot better once I catch up with the Undersiders.”

“Here, let me help you with that.” Amy felt her hand rest on her sister's bare skin. There was a pause.

Okay, how do I turn it on?

Turn what on?

Your biokinesis. You want to heal your sister's bug bites, right?

How did you even know I had biokinesis?

A sigh. Oh, for fuck's sake. Are we going to trust each other, or not?

How can I trust you? You haven't even told me your name.

A pause. I haven't? I thought I had.

No. You hadn't.

Ah. Sorry. My name's Michael Allen.

That doesn't tell me much. Are you a Thinker?

No. I'm a security guard.

You have to be joking.

I only wish I was. Now, can I have the keys to the car, or not?

… I don't think so. Not for the moment.

A sigh. Great.

She realised that Vicky was looking at her expectantly. “Amy?”

Her arm lifted and her hand pressed to her forehead. “Sorry, Vicky. Head's a bit sore. I'm finding it a little hard to concentrate. Maybe later?”

That's weak.

Spur of the moment, okay?

You realise, Vicky's known me all my life. She'll realise it's not me running the show sooner or later.

It's not like I planned this, okay?

You could tell them what's happened.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't even know what happened. Just that it did. And how's it going to sound? “Hey, listen. I'm not really Amy, I'm just driving her body while she gives me advice from the back seat.” Master/Stranger protocols much?

… oh.

Yeah. Oh. Now listen, there's things we need to discuss.

Amy was vaguely aware that her sister had replied to her, and was waiting for her to answer.

Aren't you going to talk to her?

What? What did she say?

I thought you were listening.

No. No, I was not.

“Uh, sorry,” she heard herself say. “I was kind of distracted.”

“I'll say you are, Ames,” Vicky told her. “I was thinking we call in sick from school and go straight home. You look like you need about a week of bed rest.”

Amy felt herself nodding. “Yeah, that's a really good idea. I'm not feeling the greatest.”

Vicky frowned. “Maybe you should go to the hospital?”

“Uh, no,” she replied. “Just a lie down should do me the world of good.”

Glory Girl nodded. “Yeah, me too. And once you feel better, maybe you can do something about these insect bites. They sting like crazy.”

Mentally, Amy bit her lip. Oh, Vicky …

She 'heard' Michael Allen – whoever that was – sigh. I offered to heal her.

She felt Vicky gather her up, and they lifted into the air, the wind whistling through her hair.

And if I showed you how to turn on my powers, you'd have access to them then.

You can trust me. Seriously. I'm not going to misuse your powers.

Sorry, I need more assurance than that.

Her body rolled its eyes. And how exactly am I supposed to give you proof?

That's not my problem.

You're right. It's our problem. And it will continue being our problem until you learn to cooperate with me. Oh, and one other thing.

What?

I know about you being in love with Vicky. That ends now.

A frozen lump encased her heart. What?

You heard me. In any case, it's not you. It's her. She used that damn aura of hers once too often on you, when she first got her powers.

I – that can't be -

Abruptly, her body went limp, every muscle relaxing. Instinctively, she tried to assert control again.

Nothing.

Allen took over again, turning her head toward Vicky, who was looking at her with concern.

“Amy?” asked her sister. “What was that? You scared me.”

She felt herself nodding. “I just … felt weak for a bit. If you can get me home, I'll try to rest.”

The wind-rush increased. “Okay, Ames. Just hang on. I'll get you there.”

Dammit, thought that might work.

What might work?

Giving you a shock, then letting go. See if you could regain control.

Well, it didn't work. She paused. Was that a lie, then? To shock me?

Nope. Truth, as far as I know.

It … it can't be.

Sure it can. Also, your stepmother is wrong.

… about?

You. You're not about to turn into a supervillain, just because your father is one.

What?

What what?

My father's a supervillain?

Well, duh. Why do you think Brandish has been down on you all your life? She thinks 'like father like daughter'. Which is utter bullshit.

Uh … is it?

Sure. My dad raises cattle. I'm a security guard. You know O'Hare Airport in Chicago?

Bewildered by the change of subject, she responded anyway. Uh, yes?

The guy it was named after, a flying ace in World War 2, his dad was the accountant for Al Capone. We do not grow up to be our parents.

I … I guess?

I don't guess. I know. Ah, we're coming in for a landing. This where you live?

What, something you don't know?

Oh, har har. Listen, once you have a bit of a camp -

A what?

A sleep, he replied patiently. Hopefully you'll be back in control. But I still need to talk to you about stuff.

What sort of stuff?

Saving the world.

Amy had no answer to that.

=///=​

Vicky landed more or less on the front doorstep, and set Amy on her feet. She felt the stranger behind her eyes take control of her body; when Vicky opened the door, she watched herself step through and into the house.

She hadn't gone three paces when Carol was there, staring at the two of them.

“And what happened to you two?”

“There was a bank robbery, Mom,” Vicky began. “Amy got hurt -”

“Not too badly, I see,” Carol broke in. “I don't see any blood.” She nodded to Vicky. “But what happened to you, Victoria?”

“Bug bites,” mumbled Vicky. “Look, Amy's not feeling too good, so I was thinking she could have a shower and go to bed.”

“And Amy hasn't healed you yet?” demanded Carol. “Why not?”

Because someone won't show me how.

Because I know what my powers could do if I wasn't careful with them. And I don't trust you to be careful.

Gee, thanks a lot.

Would you trust a total stranger with your powers?

“She's not feeling good, Mom,” Vicky repeated. “She got hit in the head. They think she might have a mild concussion.”

Carol stared at them for a long moment, then nodded curtly. “Go ahead. But I want to hear more about it, once you're both feeling better.”

Vicky nodded, and put an arm around Amy's shoulders. “Come on, Ames, let's get you upstairs.”

Her body paused as they reached the upstairs corridor.

Uh, which one's your room?

Why don't you figure it out for yourself?

A sigh. Amy, I'm on your side. Work with me, here.

She relented a little. Okay, second on the right.

Thanks.

His control over her body's movements wasn't perfect yet; either that, or the body itself was still a bit woozy from the hit to the head. In any case, she stumbled over the threshold of her room, where the carpet stuck up a bit. Immediately, Vicky was at her side, supporting her.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Amy heard herself say. “I'm fine. Just gonna lie down for a bit.”

Oh god, please do not offer to help me get undressed.

What are you worried about? It's my body.

Oh god. You had to remind me. Okay, not getting undressed.

What, not ever?

Amy. You're a sixteen year old girl. I'm a forty-four year old man. I am not going to go there.

I have to shower sometime. And girls have hygiene needs too.

Fuck, I hope you have control back by the time we need to do that.

He honestly sounded worried; she took pity on him. So do I, Michael. So do I.


End of Part One

Part Two

 

I, Panacea

Part Two: Getting Along

[Author's Note: the character Michael Allen is the same character who features in Security! This story is a sequel of sorts to that one; the action of Security! is resolved before I, Panacea starts.

Yes, he's getting sick and tired of this.]


Amy blinked her way awake. There was a thumping on her door.

“Ames!” she heard Vicky calling. “Phone call!”

She pushed herself to a sitting position and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Coming,” she replied.

She was on her feet before she realised what was going on. I'm in control again! Oh, thank god! She paused. Was that just a hallucination or something? Did I imagine it?

Nope. Afraid not.

She stumbled in mid-step, would have fallen if her arm hadn't shot out and grabbed the door frame.

Careful there, kiddo.

As quickly as she had lost control of her limb, she regained it; she could almost literally feel the outside force retreating, leaving her in command of her body once more.

Oh god, it wasn't a dream. It was real. She started to hyperventilate.

Yeah, look, sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot earlier. Please calm down. Freaking out isn't going to do anyone any good.

Her fear, her apprehension came to the fore. Calm down? CALM DOWN? Are you the one with the strange voice stuck in your head?Are you the one who keeps having their body taken over by an outside force?

No,” he told her flatly, I'm the one stuck in a strange body with no way to go home. So yeah, I'm freaking just a bit too. There was a pause; she imagined him taking a deep breath. So can we both please take a step back and think about what we're going to say next?

He was so obviously trying to be reasonable that she did calm down, just a bit. So why are you here? In my head?

I can't be sure, but I have the distinct idea that I'm supposed to save the world.

You said that before. Save the world? From what?

I … can we go into that later, when we have more time? Your sister said something about a phone call.

Oh. Right.

It'll be the Wards.

How do you know that?

Because they got fairly beaten about, fighting the Undersiders. Especially Aegis. And because you went to see them the last time.

The last time what?

The last time you did this. He paused. Well, not the last time last time. That time, no-one got hurt. Let's say the 'first' time. Another pause. Look, can you just answer the phone? Please?

Why don't you answer it? You didn't have any problem with acting for me before.

Because now we have a choice, and I'd rather not. I want you in control of your body.

She blinked. What?

Amy, we're going to need to be partners here. Work together. And for that to work, we're going to need to agree to boundaries. I think “no taking over your partner's body without her express permission” is a good start, don't you?

Somewhat taken aback, she nodded. I … I guess.

“Ames?” came Vicky's voice from outside the door. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she called back. “Just … thinking about something.” She took hold of the door handle, opened the door. Her body worked smoothly, with easy coordination. There was no outside control going on.

Vicky was standing there, holding the cordless phone, her face still swollen and welted. She handed it over to Amy. “It's the PRT, calling about the Wards.”

You were right.

A mental impression of a shrug. Educated guess.

Numbly, Amy took the phone. “Hello?”

It was Deputy Director Renick on the other end; Amy had spoken with him before. As the voice in her head had predicted, he was asking for her to come in and heal the Wards of their most grievous wounds.

Which reminded her; Vicky still bore the marks of the bugs that had apparently swarmed her after Amy had been knocked out.

You might want to heal her at some point too.

I'm not sure if I can trust you with my powers. In her head was a mental image of herself, under the compulsion of the voice within her head, using her powers willy-nilly. Hurting people. Killing people.

To be honest, I don't think I can use your powers. They're hooked into you, not me.

Really?

Yeah, really.

So why were you so anxious to know how to use them, earlier?

His voice was patient. Because I wasn't sure if you were ever going to regain control of your body.

Oh.

In her ear, Renick seemed to be waiting for a response.

She made a snap decision. “Uh, yeah. I'll be there.” Hanging up the call, she handed the phone back to her sister. Touching Vicky's hand, she felt her power kicking in, reading her sister's body, telling Amy exactly what was wrong with it.

It took only the slightest exertion of her power to reverse the effects of the bites, to cause Vicky's body to metabolise the toxins, to smooth out the welts, to take away the irritation.

Wow.

What?

That was … awesome. Sheer poetry.

You were watching?

Unless I choose not to, I see everything you do.

Vicky raised her hand to her face. “Thanks, Ames. You're obviously feeling better?” Her voice was low, her eyes dull.

Amy smiled at her. “I'm feeling much more myself, yeah.”

“So you're needed at the PRT building then, huh?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah. We need to help out the Wards. Give me a lift?”

Vicky shook her head. “Uh … rain check? Whatever Tattletale did to me really knocked the stuffing out of me. I just want to curl up under my quilt and not come out for a week.” She did her best to muster a smile. “Get Dad to drive you?”

Amy nodded and headed back into her room. Closing the door, she leaned against it, breathing heavily.

What's up?

I hate lying to my sister.

You weren't lying. You just weren't telling her everything.

Which is still lying.

His voice was patient. Amy. You do that every day anyway. Remember?

Don't remind me. Anyway, you're saying that you can experience everything I do?

Unless I concentrate on something else, yeah.

That could get really creepy, really fast.

Uh yeah, I think I already pointed that out. Which is why I want for us to come to some sort of a partnership understanding sooner rather than later.

Well, it's going to be a one-sided partnership. You seem to have all the leverage. Her inner voice was bitter. After all, you can take over my body any time you like.

Not by choice! It was almost a shout. After a moment, she felt him relaxing. Sorry. Not by choice. And anyway, you have access to your powers and I don't.

She was shocked. You tried to use them?

Nope. I watched you use them. And I still have no idea how that works.

Oh. Right.

She opened her closet and pulled out the robes she habitually wore as Panacea, and laid them out on the bed. Then she went to pull her t-shirt off -

Whoa! Wait! What are you doing?

I need a shower. So I'm going to take one.

Oh god, okay. Let me get ready. Right, okay.

She could hear him humming to himself as she took her clothes off and wrapped herself in the towel.

“Just going for a shower!” she called to Vicky as she stepped out of her room.

“Already there!” was the reply, from the bathroom.

The humming in the back of her head intensified as she entered the bathroom; Vicky was already in the shower, the water running. Deliberately, she kept her eyes away from the shower cubicle.

“Can you make it quick?” she asked her sister.

“I was just about done. Wanted to feel clean again after those bug bites.”

True to her word, Vicky turned the shower off and stepped from the cubicle, reaching for her towel. Involuntarily, Amy found her eyes wandering toward her sister's body -

LALALALALALALALALALA!

Startled, Amy jumped, then jerked her eyes away from Vicky.

Will you stop doing that? That's very distracting!

It's MEANT to be! Stop looking at her!

Rather than argue the point, Amy pulled off her towel, trying to ignore the “lalalalalalala” that had emerged in the back of her head once more, and stepped into the shower cubicle. She turned on the shower, but when she went to nudge the lever toward 'hot', her hand moved of its own accord and it went toward 'cold' instead. A freezing spray of water hit her, and she gasped.

What the hell are you doing?

His voice was terse. Cold shower. Do you the world of good.

What – is this because I looked at Vicky?

Yes. Now get clean. We've got some Wards to go heal.

At least let me use the hot water.

A sigh. Fine. Okay. Just get it over and done with.

Gritting her teeth, Amy nudged the lever back over to 'hot', and felt the water temperature become something more comfortable than 'arctic'. Then she started to wash herself.

Lalalalalalalala …

Will you stop doing that?

When you stop running your hands over yourself. Lalalalala …

That's very irritating.

He didn't answer, unless she counted “lalalalalalala ...” as an answer.

=///=​

By the time she was dressing, he was reciting poetry in her head. She had to admit, it was an improvement on “lalalalala”, but she was puzzled and intrigued by some of the verses.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black

Resounded to the thunder of their tread ...

Okay, I'm dressed.

He stopped reciting. Oh, good.

That was an interesting poem.

Uh, I memorised it once upon a time. It was a way to pass the time.

I think I like it. I'd like to hear the whole thing sometime.

Sure thing. When we get a chance. But right now, we need to discuss matters.

What matters?

Improving your situation, for one. And saving the world, for two.

Improving my situation?

Yeah. Right now, your home life? Toxic as all hell. You have to change things, or it's going to go downhill fast.

How am I going to do that? And why will it go downhill? And why do you say my home life is toxic?

“Amy girl?” called Mark Dallon from outside her room. “Are you ready to go?”

“Nearly,” Amy replied, adjusting her hood. “Okay, ready.”

She opened the door and joined her foster father. They walked downstairs together.

Well, are you going to give me a straight answer?

Sure, but first I need to talk to you about the Undersiders.

What about the Undersiders?

About how they're not as bad as you think. In fact, I think you need to reach out to them. They could help you, and you could help them.

She stopped dead, halfway down the stairs. You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Mark went a few more steps, then turned to stare at her. “Amy? Something the matter?”

She mustered a smile. “No, I, uh, just remembered something. Let's go.” She started down the steps again.

Seriously, you have to be kidding.

Not a word of it.

Wait a minute. She paused, remembering. The Undersiders have that guy, Regent. He can control minds. You're Regent, aren't you? Fucking with my head?

And nope again. Regent can't control minds, only bodies. Also, he needs to spend about a day working on someone before he can gain full control of them. And he can't talk to them mentally.

The shadow guy, Grue, then.

Creates darkness. Doesn't do control.

The bug girl.

She controls bugs, not people. And by the time you get to the PRT HQ, the Wards will have chosen the name 'Skitter' for her.

What – how do you know that?

A sigh. Because I've been through this all before. And before you ask, Bitch makes dogs grow, and she understands them really well, and Tattletale is super intuitive. That's it. Oh, and you might want to get in the car.

She looked around; she was standing by the car, and her father was holding the door open for her. "Ready to go, Amy girl?"

"Sure." She climbed into the car, and in moments they were on the road. The delay gave her time to think, and she went on the attack.

How do I know you aren't lying to me?

You don't. That's what trust is about, I guess.

I don't have much of a basis to trust you on, you know.

I know. Which is a real problem. Because there are things happening, bad things, and we only have a narrow window of opportunity to get on top of them, and I'd really rather be on the same page as you before we start.

His words sent a chill down her spine.

Bad things?

Really bad things.

Like what?

Like a twelve year old girl being kidnapped and forced to use her powers to make a supervillain even more powerful.

Okay, now that just sounds like the plot to a bad movie. How can he force her to use her powers, without her using them on him?

She's a precog, a powerful one. Right now, right this very second, he's forcibly addicting her to the drugs which he will use to control her.

She felt sick at the idea, but continued to argue. So where's this happening?

Right here in Brockton Bay.

I don't believe you. If there was a precog that strong, I've never heard of her. And definitely not one that's only twelve.

She only triggered very recently.

So how come she didn't see him coming and take steps?

Because he's a precog too, of a different type. And he made sure she knew that whatever she tried, he would kill people dear to her.

She paused. Oh. Okay, do these people have names, or is this all just hypothetical?

Yes. The supervillain is called Coil. And the girl's name is Dinah Alcott. She's the mayor's niece.

She rolled her eyes. Really. The mayor's niece. Sounds more and more like a bad movie all the time.

He sounded just like he was gritting his teeth. You have heard of Coil, right?

Sure. But he's just a bit player. A low tier operator. And you're saying he's a precog?

He's a lot more powerful than he lets on. He specialises in working from the shadows. The bank robbery? He was behind it. He's got several supervillain gangs on his payroll.

I'm really not sure that I believe you. Especially since I haven't heard of any such kidnapping.

He sighed. Why do you think the bank robbery went off in broad daylight? It was intended to draw everyone's attention. Several other big flashy crimes would have happened around the same time. All to act as distractions, so his men could grab Dinah.

She's that important to him?

In a nutshell - yes. He would cheerfully shoot any of his men - or his super-powered minions - in the head, to ensure that he keeps hold of her.

All this could just be a fabrication. You could be lying through your metaphorical teeth. But she was starting to wonder.

It's easy to prove or disprove. Get on to the mayor, ask where his niece Dinah is. If he can locate her, or if he doesn't have a niece, then I'm lying. If she's missing, then ... yeah.

She paused. He was right. His challenge was simple, direct, and to the point.

What if he's not lying?

Still right here, you know.

Go away. Let me think.

Love to. Let me know how it goes.

His presence seemed to dwindle, but not disappear. He seemed to be mumbling to himself, but that could simply have been his background thoughts.

She looked over at Mark as he hit the indicator to change lanes. “Dad?”

“Yes?”

“You know the mayor fairly well, right?”

He smiled slightly. “Met him a time or two. So you could say that, yeah.”

“Does he have a niece by the name of Dinah?”

He blinked. “That's kind of out of the blue. But yes … I think he might, actually. His wife's sister's girl.”

“Huh,” she replied. “So, how old would she be?”

He frowned. “Twelve or thirteen, I think. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” she deflected. “Someone was talking, and I got curious.”

“Okay,” he replied, and turned his attention back to the road.

He has a niece called Dinah. Okay, that still doesn't prove anything.

There was no response. Hey! You still there?

Nope. In Puerto Rico for the holidays. Leave a message after the beep. Beep.

Stop being childish. Okay, so the mayor has a niece of the right age. Still doesn't prove anything.

Not if you don't want it to, no.

What's that supposed to mean?

A sigh. Amy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just … stressed. Very stressed. And so are you. So right now, our chances of reaching any sort of amicable agreement are minimal.

I'm not stressed. I feel fine.

… says the girl to the voice in her head.

His mental tone was so dry, so deadpan, that she giggled mentally. Okay, point taken. I'm feeling a bit stressed myself.

It's what Tattletale said to you, isn't it?

How did you know about that?

He snorted. If I had a dollar for every time … okay, screw it. She was going to tell you exactly who your father was. And it would have messed with you head plenty. But I have the fix.

What?

I'll tell you, right here, right now. Vicky doesn't need to know. Mark and Carol know, of course. But once you know, you can start coming to terms with it. And you don't need to be scared of Tattletale telling everyone.

She felt a surge of apprehension. I – I'm not sure I want to know.

Remember what I told you earlier? We do not grow up to be our parents?

Yeah … but Vicky's kinda like Carol.

And not in the least like Mark. So what if you're like your real mom, and not your dad at all?

I … maybe?

I can guarantee you're not like your dad. I know this for an absolute fact. He was a murderer who kept his minions in absolute fear of him. You have respect for life and the well-being of others. He paused. Amy, I like you, and I want to help you through this.

Like me? You don't even know me!

She felt him smile. That's where you're wrong. I know more about you than you know about yourself.

Such as?

Your real name. The name your mother gave you.

Not my father?

No. She was raising you, but she had cancer, so she passed you on to your father before she died.

I … I didn't know.

When the Brockton Bay Brigade took on your father, he had them beat, but for the fact that he was hiding you in a closet. They saw the way he was trying to lead the fight away from you, so they went to attack the closet. He took the hit, to save you. He was wounded, couldn't fight any more, so he asked them to take care of you. If you'd gone into the foster system, someone would have found out about who you really were. He had enemies. It would not have gone well for you.

So Carol and Mark took me in?

Sarah and Neil would have, but they had Eric and Crystal already, and money troubles on top of that, so Sarah talked Carol into taking you.

But … why did Carol always dislike me?

His tone was gentle. She saw your real father in you. She was wrong, of course, but that's how she saw it. When she was only about thirteen, she and Sarah were kidnapped for ransom, but the kidnappers eventually decided to kill them. That's when they triggered. But before that point, Carol had started talking to the kidnappers, started empathising with them. Stockholm Syndrome. After that, after they tried to kill her, she felt that everyone was out to betray her. So she married a man with chronic depression, because he was safe. Let herself get pregnant with Vicky, because a child of her own body was safe.

And then … I came into her life. Amy's tone was wondering.

Yeah. Child of a supervillain. Not her child, not from a safe parent. She saw you as the epitome of everything that was wrong with the world. But she's mistaken. You're a good person.

I … I don't think so.

He snorted. Better than you think.

No. I'm really not. I … get these feelings, sometimes.

He spoke soothingly, evenly. I know you do.

She flared at him. You don't know anything.

His tone never changed. The kid, with the heart. From Egypt, right? You hated him, because he was going to have a life, and your life was just taken up with healing people, right?

Amy felt her eyes fill with tears. How can you … how can you know this?

Same way I know that you're a good kid. That you've got far too much pressure on you, and you're hurting. You aren't a bad person, and you don't want to be a bad person. But the way things are going, you'll be forced into doing something bad. Because no-one can live the way you are without snapping, sooner or later.

His voice was calm, matter of fact. Not discounting her fears, but simply discussing them. Bringing them out into the open.

But – what can I do?

She felt his smile. See, that's where I come in.

=///=​

She was ushered through into a rear office, where she met with the Deputy Director. “Thank you for coming, Panacea,” he told her, shaking her hand. “Here's your visitor's badge.”

She hung the badge around her neck. “Want to come down, meet the guys, Dad?”

Mark shook his head. “No. I think I'll hang about and talk over old times with Phil here.”

“Suit yourself.” Amy shook hands with the Deputy Director once more, then let herself out. She was met by two of Brockton Bay's best-known capes.

“Armsmaster,” she greeted them. “Miss Militia.”

The armoured Tinker had his halberd clamped to his back, of course, and Miss Militia's current weapon of choice appeared to be a heavy machine-gun.

“Panacea,” Miss Militia replied. “Thank you for coming in.”

“It's the least I could do,” she responded. “After all, they saved me.”

They rode down in the lift. The voice in her head was mercifully silent; she needed to think about what he had said to her, after she had finally asked him for advice. Miss Militia's weapon reduced itself to a hunting rifle, slung over her shoulder, for the trip down.

Two sub-basements down, they exited into a gleaming stainless steel corridor, and walked its length to a heavy steel door. Miss Militia pressed the large button bearing the image of a domino mask; they waited until its light blinked out, then she leaned forward and let the retinal scanner look over her eye. As she did so, her weapon became a large rocket launcher.

She obviously passed muster, because the heavy interlocks on the metal doors separated, and the doors themselves opened. Armsmaster led the way in, followed by Miss Militia, with Amy bringing up the rear.

As they entered the large room, Gallant stood up. “Armsmaster,” he greeted the leader of the Protectorate in Brockton Bay. “Good to see you, sir. Miss Militia, always a pleasure.”

“Ever the gentleman,” responded Miss Militia graciously. Indicating Amy, she went on. “We brought a guest. She was kind enough to volunteer to come here and patch you guys up.”

Volunteer, hah.

Shush, these are my friends. I would have volunteered if you hadn't been in my head, confusing me.

Miss Militia smiled behind her scarf. “Can’t send you home with horrible injuries and hundreds of bug bites, can we? That would give away the show.”

He sighed. To be fair, I think you're right. But the fact remains that they called on you.

As Miss Militia's weapon changed shape again, from rocket launcher to machine gun to sniper rifle to harpoon gun, Amy stepped forward.

“I wanted to thank you guys for coming to my rescue,” she told them. “And for letting Glory Girl come with you.”

Inside her head, he chuckled. See the look on Gallant's face, right there? Director Piggot ripped him a brand new one for asking her to come along.

But that's not fair! She would have come along anyway!

So tell me you're surprised.

Well, they did bring her along, and I'm glad.

Why? Because she got hurt, and the Undersiders got away anyway?

No. Because we tried to do the right thing. She couldn't understand why he could not see that.

Gallant had a concerned look on his face. “You two are okay?”

The voice in her head was very dry. Well, apart from hearing voices …

Amy had to stifle a giggle. Shush!

She shook her head. “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

You want to know how Tattletale got her?

Distracted, she blinked. Uh, how?

“Good,” Gallant replied, and he sounded like he meant it.

Her field goes down for a brief moment after she takes a big hit. Tattletale shot her, and while her field was down, the bugs swarmed her. She's too overconfident. This is actually probably a good thing.

I was bluffing when I told the bug girl that I'd give her cancer or stuff, but now I think I could really do it. She could have killed my sister.

His voice was firm. Don't go there. Do not go there. You do not know all the details.

I don't need to know -

Just like Carol Dallon didn't need to know all the details to know that you're a danger to society?

His comment cut her off at the knees, quite likely as it was intended to do.

I, uh -

Armsmaster's voice got her attention. He was standing by a couple of whiteboards which had, she saw, the names of the Undersiders atop columns. Inside the columns were facts about each of the teen villains.

“I like this,” the armoured hero commented. “But this one… nearly empty.” Amy saw that he was tapping the column set up for Tattletale.

Gallant shrugged. “None of us ran into her, and the hostages didn’t have anything to say about her.”

Miss Militia looked at Amy. “Panacea may be able to help there.”

She suddenly found herself the centre of attention. Her mouth went dry. “I- A lot happened.”

“Any detail helps,” Miss Militia encouraged her.

Right. Okay. Want to stand out now, or fade into the background?

I … I want to help. But Tattletale …

Can't hurt you. And, to be honest, she won't hurt you. Especially if you reach out to her and help her.

I … we're really going to do that?

Yes. We are. If we're going to get Dinah back, then we need the Undersiders on side. And Tattletale is a natural for that.

Why?

Tell you later. But right now, you can look good in front of everyone. If you want.

Amy took a deep breath. Okay. I can do this. Hit me.

I can just take over and talk for you, if you want.

… no, just tell me what to say.

That's my girl. She could feel his approval. It was amazing how good it made her feel.

Okay, repeat after me …

“Before we get into this,” she began, “there's something else I was wondering about. Something odd about the bank robbery.”

Armsmaster, who had turned back to the whiteboards, returned his gaze to her. Even through the opaque visor, she could tell he was staring.

“What would that be?” asked Miss Militia.

“The timing,” Amy informed her. “Middle of the day, busy period. Right when all the Wards were able to slip away and attend.” She paused. “Was Shadow Stalker unable to attend, or was she told to stay away?”

Aegis raised a hand. “I, uh, told her to stay away,” he rasped. There was something wrong with his chest, Amy saw.

“Do you need healing?” she asked, automatically.

“I'll be fine for the moment,” he managed. “Heal the others first.”

She nodded. “Okay. Well, given that you all got there well in time to intercept them, that was either a badly-planned heist – and the Undersiders are not known for that – or it was planned.”

Nicely done, the voice in her head congratulated her. You've got them on the hook. Three … two … one …

Armsmaster spoke up, his voice hard. “Planned? For what reason?”

Amy shrugged. “Maybe it was a distraction, designed to draw as many capes away from somewhere else as possible.” She paused. “Mom and Dad were at a dinner at their country club, and I think a few other capes were there as well. So they were out of the way too.”

Miss Militia's voice was thoughtful. “Do we have information on any other crimes around town, at about that time?”

Kid Win was already sitting down at the computer console. “We have a jewellery store robbery. A pileup on the interstate, that apparently was caused by a cape battle. And … a missing kid.”

Amy's head came around. “A missing child? Details?”

The teenage Tinker frowned under his visor. “Um … let's see … wandered away from school. Reported seen talking to some strange men. It wouldn't even show up, except that apparently she's related to the mayor.”

“Rich parents?” asked Gallant.

Kid Win shook his head. “Uh, nope. Upper middle, is all.”

“What's her name?” asked Amy tensely.

“No first name, just an initial. Alcott. D. Alcott.”

D. Alcott. Dinah Alcott. The mayor's niece. She's been kidnapped.

“Does that seem significant to you, Panacea?” asked Armsmaster.

Amy opened her mouth to reply, then found herself briefly unable to speak.

He has a lie detector in his helmet. Choose your words carefully.

Able to speak again, she hesitated. “I, uh, think there might be something important about the girl,” she hedged. “Something we're not seeing.”

“I'll go back over the details,” Armsmaster noted. “Good catch there, Panacea.”

She nodded, aware of cold sweat trickling down her back. “Thanks. Now, about Tattletale.”

What can you tell me about her?

Well, I won't be telling you her secret identity, of course. That's for her to tell you. But for now, this shouldn't set off too many butterflies.

Picking up the marker pen, Amy began writing in a firm hand.

=///=​

“Feeling better?” Amy asked, as Clockblocker felt his face.

“Oh god yes,” he muttered. “I am going to have nightmares about spiders. Lots and lots of spiders.”

“The bug girl, uh, Skitter?” asked Amy sympathetically.

He nodded. “She put bugs in behind my eyeballs. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

She shook her head. “I can't imagine.”

“The idea Aegis and I had, to swap costumes? Never again. Never, ever again. I intend to be bug-proof for the rest of my natural life.”

She chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “Take care.”

Well, that should be it.

Nope, here comes Gallant. I think he wants a word.

What about?

Us, I imagine.

Oh, shit -

Relax. I got this. Can I take over? I think I know the steps to this dance.

She took a deep breath. O … okay.

Cool nanas. She felt his influence spread through her body. Her heart rate slowed down.

“Panacea,” the teenage cape greeted her.

“Gallant,” she heard herself say. “How are your ribs? You seem to be holding yourself a little stiffly.”

Gallant seemed to be slightly taken aback. “Uh, yeah. One of Hellhound's dogs rammed me, and I think I might have bruised or broken ribs. Can you check for me?”

Amy's head nodded. “Sure. Want to use your room for privacy?”

“Yeah,” Gallant told her. “Sure.” He led her toward his alcove.

“That's right,” Clockblocker called out. “Give your sister's boyfriend special treatment. He get a lollipop for being a brave patient afterward too?”

Amy rolled her eyes, even as Gallant chuckled. “Don't mind him,” he advised her.

“I don't,” she heard herself say. “He's harmless.”

They entered the alcove, and Gallant turned to face her. “Okay,” he began. “What's going on with you?”

Amy wanted to panic, but her heart rate never shifted.

“I'm sorry,” her voice sounded calm in her ears, “but you're going to be have to be more specific.”

“I see emotions,” Gallant told her. “All the time. All around everyone. And ever since you got here, your emotions have been all over the place. Jumping back and forth like a lightning storm. Calm one moment, jittery the next. And just now, just as I came up to you, you went from on edge to … calm. Unworried. Why is that?”

Amy felt herself reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Gallant,” her voice sounded softly. “Dean. I'm under a lot of stress at the moment, as you can imagine. I'm actually considering taking a break, stepping away from healing, just to recharge my batteries. But you can imagine the hell that I'll catch from all sides if and when I make that announcement, so I'm holding off. Trying to figure out when to say it. Add to that the bank robbery, me getting a hit on the head, and Vicky getting hurt trying to protect me. My thoughts are going a million miles a minute, so if my emotions follow them, I wouldn't be surprised if I look like one of those electric plasma ball globes right now.”

Gallant's eyes opened wide. No wider than Amy's would have, if she had been able to do so.

Taking a break from healing? I can't!

It's killing you, kiddo. Killing you inside. And anyway, I didn't say you were doing it, just that you were considering it. Which you should.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Damn. I … look, I'm sorry.”

Amy felt herself frown. “Why?”

He grimaced. “I know you've got some pretty strong feelings about me. I'm sorry for getting you in here. Maybe this was a mistake."

Oh god oh god oh god.

Relax. He's gotten the targets mixed up. He thinks the jealousy is aimed at Vicky, and the attraction at him.

I don't think so. He's pretty good at what he does.

Okay, one second.

You're not going to ask -

Too late; she heard herself speak in a curious tone. "Uh ... strong feelings?"

He ducked his head. "I'm not an idiot, Amy. I know that you think I'm not right for Vicky. That you resent me for coming between you two. If you ever want to talk about it ..."

Well, fuck.

Oh god … you thought he thought I was attracted to him?

I suspect it's not an uncommon phenomenon.

Amy heard herself speak softly. “It's okay. Maybe sometime I might feel like talking it out, but not right now, okay?”

He smiled. “Any time. My door is always open. When I get a door, that is.”

She shrugged lightly. “Just make Vicky happy, okay?”

“Goes without saying.” He opened the door and they rejoined the main group.

=///=​

In the car, on the way back to the house, Amy fumed silently in her seat.

You seem a little upset.

You had no right.

I have every right to take steps to improve your health. I'm in this body too. And I know about your problems.

You should have at least consulted me!

Like everyone else who's made life decisions for you has consulted you. At least I've got your best interests at heart.

You're just like everyone else, making decisions over my head.

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, less carefree.

You're right. You're absolutely right. I'm sorry.

She was taken aback. I am? You are?

Yes. Just because I'm doing the right thing doesn't mean I can't talk to you about it first. I apologise, Amy. I won't do that again.

I … I'm sorry, too. For snapping at you.

He chuckled. That's okay. Snap away.

And I'm ready.

Ready?

For you to tell me who my real father is. What my real name is.

She felt him smile. Well, your real name is Amelia Claire Lavere. And your father is the supervillain known as Marquis.

Marquis.

Yup.

She considered that. A day ago, she would have been horrified. If it had come out in the bank, she would have been devastated. But now, with the information she had been given, with time to think about it, it merely came as a mild surprise.

And my name is Amelia Claire Lavere.

That's your name.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

She leaned back in the car seat, letting her eyes slide almost closed. Mark Dallon glanced across at her.

“You're looking happy, Amy girl.”

She smiled at him. “I suppose I am, Dad. I suppose I am.”

I still have troubles. But at least I know what they are.


End of Part Two



Part Three

 

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

 

I, Panacea

Part Six: Arguments and Agreements


Amy felt her lips twist in what was almost a smile. "You're not shocked because I'm talking about killing him, are you?" her voice asked. "You're shocked because you didn't think anyone else knew that you want to kill him."

Wait, what? Amy asked, in her own mind. We're going to kill him? Isn't that a bit extreme? Why can't we just capture him and turn him over to the authorities?

Mentally, he sighed. He's too dangerous for that. His power lets him literally have two chances at everything, including escape attempts.

So have him sent straight to the Birdcage, she argued.

Even if he made it there, he would either be dead or running the place inside six months, and I'm betting on 'running the place'. And probably breaking out in another six. The only absolutely safe way to incarcerate him is to put him in solitary and weld the door shut. And never allow him any sort of uncontrolled communication with the outside world. Anything short of that runs risks that I'm just not willing to take.

What frightened her the most wasn't the words he was using. It was the matter-of-fact tone that he took. He meant every single word.

So we're just going to murder him. Her voice was bleak.

Execute. His was firm. Innocents get murdered. Monsters get executed.

"Well, well, well." Tattletale's voice was bright, her expression one of interest. "It looks like there's dissension in the ranks. Seems as though Panacea isn't as thrilled about the idea of killing Coil as our mysterious 'Security' is."

Amy felt her lips compress slightly, just as she felt the spill-over of the annoyance from the presence sharing her head. “Really?” he asked Tattletale, resignation mixing with the annoyance. “You had to bring that up?”

Tattletale grinned, her smile very fox-like. “Hey, you show off, I show off,” she replied unrepentantly.

Amy's eyes rolled. “Not the time, and not the place,” her voice stated flatly. “Now, can we get down to business? We need to make a plan, and do it fast.”

“What's the rush?” asked Regent. “He doesn't know we're coming, so we can take all the time in the world.”

“Except that in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he will have one of the world's most powerful precogs addicted to whatever drugs he's been feeding her, and she'll be desperate for more, so she will answer any questions he has for her. Questions that he'll be carefully formulating to have a very real chance of uncovering whatever plans you are hatching behind the scenes, unless we're very careful about this.”

Tattletale grimaced. “And we're going to have to do this before he calls me in for our next chat. Because if you're right … “

She paused expectantly, and Amy heard herself chime in, right on cue, “And we both know that I am.”

Tattletale nodded. “Yeah. He will find out. All about this. About you. And about how we're planning to take him down. Take him out.” Her voice was grim, her face set.

Reminded of what they were planning, Amy found her mental voice again. I'm still really, really not comfortable with this.

What can I say to convince you that he really does deserve the quickest death we can give him?

If you know me at all, you'll know that I've spent the last three years of my life helping people, saving lives. I can't even imagine helping to kill someone. Much less …

Much less kill them yourself. I got it.

Have you ever killed anyone?

He paused for a long moment. I ... yeah, I killed someone. Special circumstances. Saving the world. He didn't elaborate, although she got the impression there was much more that he could have said.

Not Coil?

No. The last time I was in this situation, we had the PRT and the Wards to call on. Plus Canary. Fuck. How am I gonna help her now?

Who, Canary?

Yeah. Sweet girl, getting railroaded by the system. I -

“Hey, Panacea, Security, whoever you are,” called Tattletale. “Don't zone on us now. Any information you've got on Coil and his operation, it would be handy to know.”

Amy felt herself sigh. “Right. Information. Real name, Thomas Calvert. He's the leader of a PRT strike squad. He bought his powers a few years back, but had to spend time using them to earn enough money to pay for them before he was able to strike out on his own.”

Tattletale was staring at her again. “Wait, back up. Bought his powers? Who from?”

Fuck. Did not mean to let that slip. I'm really not good at this off the cuff shit.

Her hand made a gesture, as if erasing a blackboard. “Not important.”

Grue spoke up. “But if -”

Amy's head shook in negation. “Really not important. I am not going to name the people involved, but I will assure you they aren't involved directly with Coil's organisation. We do not want to get on their radar in any way, shape or form.” She focused directly on Tattletale's bottle-green eyes. “Do. Not.”

Whatever Tattletale saw in her eyes seemed to shake the blonde supervillain slightly. She blinked. “Okay. We'll shelve that. So he bought his powers, and now he's Coil.”

“He is,” Amy's voice agreed. “He's also head of a company called Fortress Constructions. They build Endbringer shelters.”

“I know 'em,” Grue commented unexpectedly. “Did some summer work for them, the year before I triggered.”

Amy heard Michael mumbling in the back of her mind. Two thousand and eight, or early oh-nine.

Is that important?

Nope. Sorry. I have a habit of fixating on details.

Great. Listen, I'm really not happy with killing -

There's an alternative, but I can almost guarantee you'll be less happy with it.

What's that one? she asked incautiously.

Brain surgery.

I don't do brains, she replied automatically.

But you could if you wanted, he responded. So very easily. Brains are biology, after all.

It's wrong! I could give in to the wrong impulse, make them do, think, whatever I wanted. What if I'm as evil as Carol thinks I am? What if doing it once makes me want to screw with the heads of everyone I meet?

A mental sigh. Wasn't saying you should. But it's an alternative. You could change just one aspect of his personality, so that he uses his powers for good.

Her voice was bitter. And if you decide I should 'fix' another villain, and another? Where do I stop? Where do I draw the line?

His was almost gentle. These are desperate times, kiddo. The world's going to end in two years, or fourteen, depending on whether we manage to stop a psychopath in time. Sometimes, it's not 'where' we draw the line, but 'when'.

Her heart tried to lurch at his words, but she didn't have control over her body at the moment. The end of the world?

Afraid so.

Psychopath? Coil?

No. Jack Slash.

He ends the world?

“Good grief,” muttered Tattletale. “Are you two having an argument or making out in there? Is there anything else we need to know?”

His attention swung outward, toward the Undersiders, who were all watching her. “Uh, yeah,” she heard herself say. “Fifty mercs, more or less. They have undermounts on their guns, fire a purple laser beam that'll cut steel. Tinker-built. The mercs are well-trained. Also, there's a vault in the lower level that's got a monstrous Case 53 inside. You do not allow her to come into physical contact with you. If you're lucky, she'll eat you alive.”

“And if we're unlucky?” Tattletale's voice was hushed.

Amy drew a deep breath. “She holds your body inside hers, and spits out evil twisted clones. Clones that know everything you do, and hate everything and everyone you love. They'll have powers based vaguely on yours, but different. Sometimes more dangerous. These clones are independent, sentient, living creatures from the moment that they're produced, but you have to kill them. Consider them to be Smurfed in the worst possible way.”

“You mean 'Simurghed',” Tattletale corrected her.

“Same same,” Amy's voice conceded irritably. “You knew what I meant.” She looked at the villains in the room. “Her name's Noelle, and she's well on the way to becoming an S-class threat. So we have to figure out what to do with her before we go in there. Before we take down Coil.”

Grue raised his hand slightly. “I'm beginning to wonder if we even can.”

“You're the fucking Undersiders!” Amy heard her voice rise sharply. “In another reality, you fucking owned this city! You took on the Protectorate, the PRT, the Nine, Dragon, Echidna -”

“Fucking what?” interrupted Regent, his voice amused. “What the fuck's an echidna?”

“A small Australian animal, like a porcupine but not really,” Tattletale told him absently. “Echidna … that's this girl Noelle, isn't it?”

Amy felt herself nodding. “It was a codename they gave her. She did a lot of damage, killed a few heroes. One of her clones killed Myrddin. And she really wanted to kill you guys for killing Coil. So any plan we make has got to include a way to neutralise her.” She took a step forward. “But what I'm trying to tell you is that you guys have the wherewithal to step up, to take on the big leagues. Before you're done, you totally rearrange the political landscape. One of you kills Alexandria, for fuck's sake.”

What?

“What?” blurted Grue.

“What?” echoed Tattletale.

“You're shitting me,” Regent declared.

Even Rachel glanced up from where she was sitting with her dogs; up till this point, she had apparently spent very little time paying attention to what was being said.

“Who?” Tattletale asked.

Amy felt her eyes fix on the supervillain's face, and not leave it. “Not important. Plus, special circumstances.”

For the longest time, Tattletale stared back at her, then the bottle-green eyes flickered sideways just once, almost too fast to see. She nodded. “Oh.”

Amy hadn't quite seen who she'd been looking at; she waited for the villain to reveal what she'd realised, but no word came.

“Oh, indeed,” her voice replied. “Now, we can do this. We just have to figure out how.”

<><>​

“Mom?”

Carol put the iron down and looked around. It was probably a good thing that Vicky had interrupted her; she was driving the hot implement over the clothing with a little too much force and vigour, and the chance of causing damage to the delicate fabric was rising all the time.

“Yes, Victoria?” she asked. “Are you feeling better?”

Vicky, still wearing her pyjamas, had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, that nap was just what I needed. The fight at the bank really took it out of me. I wanted to thank Amy for fixing my bug bites. Where is she?”

Carol breathed deeply through her nose, trying to stem the irritation she felt at hearing that name. “Amy,” she replied, biting the name off sharply, “has gone out. She did not tell us when she would be back.”

Vicky frowned. “Mom, what's the matter? What happened? Is something wrong?” She came forward to put her hands on Carol's shoulders. “Are you angry at Amy?”

Carol gathered her daughter – her real daughter – into her arms. “It's nothing that you need to worry about, Vicky. Everything's fine now.”

Vicky hugged her back. “Are you sure? Because you were ironing those clothes like you had a personal grudge against them.”

She felt her anger flare up again. “Vicky. Please. Drop it.”

Her daughter put her at arm's length again and studied her intently. “Mom, you're starting to worry me.”

Carol sighed; the genuine concern in Vicky's voice served to damp down the heat of her irritation. “Okay, come on. Let's sit down. I have something to tell you.”

<><>​

“Next bus should be by in about five minutes,” Tattletale – or rather, Lisa – announced, as the bus stop came into view.

“Thanks,” Amy told her. “And I appreciate you guys walking me back.”

“Still think we could have been faster riding,” Rachel growled.

“Some of us have costumed identities,” Grue reminded her.

“So we costume up,” Alec observed; he was no more a fan of walking than Rachel was.

Grue raised an eyebrow. “Which draws attention. Which we do not need, especially not now.”

Taylor stepped up alongside Amy. “I'm really sorry about the knife thing. And the baton thing,” she told the older girl in a low voice. “And the black widow thing. I just didn't want anyone getting hurt.”

“So you put deadly poisonous spiders on everyone,” Amy returned dryly.

She had found the Undersiders, once they had decided to unmask to her, to be surprisingly likeable. Lisa had led the trend, noting that Security knew all their faces and identities anyway; Amy had been surprised to see how much difference the mask and the messy hair made to her appearance. She had already seen Brian's face, while Alec's had higher cheekbones, was more delicate. Rachel almost ignored the whole concept of a secret identity, which kind of made sense, as her real identity was out there anyway, along with her face. But Taylor, the newest member, the bug girl …

Amy had been ready to dislike her. After all, the girl had threatened a couple of dozen innocents with black widow spiders. But there was nothing of the hardened criminal about her. Removing the mask had revealed a reasonably plain face, with large eyes and a wide mouth. Putting on her round-lensed glasses had completed the transformation from supervillain to perfectly normal high-school student.

“I wasn't going to use them to bite anyone,” Taylor insisted. “It was just to make sure that no-one tried to be a hero, you know? That sort of thing gets people hurt. We just wanted to get in and out with the money.” She still felt bad about it, Amy could see.

“So meanwhile,” Amy agreed with a crooked grin, “I tried to be a hero and got hurt.”

“I'm sorry,” Taylor repeated. “I was never going to hurt you. Things just … got out of hand.”

Amy rubbed the sore spot on the side of her head. “Yeah. I suppose you could say that.”

“Hey, you made my head ring, too,” Taylor reminded her. “You swing a mean fire extinguisher.” She paused. “Is Glory Girl all right? After she dislocated Lisa's shoulder, I didn't want to take any chances.”

Amy nodded. “Yeah, but she's still a bit shell-shocked. No-one's ever done that to her before.” She paused. “Uh, Security says that it's probably a good thing. Now she'll be a bit more careful. She's always been too dependent on her invulnerability.”

Reminded of her passenger, she sent an inward query. Are you still there?

Sure. I'm staying out of it for now. Carry on, you're doing fine.

Okay, thanks.

“I have to say,” Lisa commented, leaning up against the bus stop, “that it was one hell of a shock to have you show up on our doorstep like that. Did Security tell you to come?”

Amy shook her head as she gratefully sat down. “No, actually. He wanted me to reach out to you, but it was my idea to come here today, now.”

“Why did you?” asked Brian bluntly.

Amy didn't answer for a moment. Instead, she watched Rachel with her three dogs; giving them commands both verbal and silent, sending them here and there, retrieving a stick or a ball with absolute precision.

Raising her eyes back to Brian's face, she spoke slowly, consideringly. “He told me about Dinah Alcott, and the situation she was in. I didn't believe him, not at first, not until I had confirmed that the Mayor had a niece, and that she'd been kidnapped. Then I wanted to see what sort of people you really were. I didn't believe him about that either. But that's why I came. So I could see, and decide what to do next.”

“You did the right thing,” Taylor told her firmly. “We will help her.”

Lisa was rubbing her chin. “Not the only reason,” she mused. “Something else. Some anger there. A fight. A confrontation.”

Oh. Which reminds me.

What? What of?

Tell you later.

Oh, uh, okay?

Amy watched Lisa cautiously. “Do you have to go there?” she asked.

Lisa made a vague gesture. “My power. It feeds me conclusions.”

Amy sighed. “Okay then, yes. I confronted my parents about what you said in the bank. About my father. They didn't want to tell me, there was some yelling, so I went out, and came here. Because I wanted something positive to happen today.”

Lisa tilted her head. “I never told you who your father was.” A pause. “Ah. Security. Does he know about the other thing – oh, yeah, I see he does.” A frown creased her face. “How does he feel – ah.”

Amy felt her cheeks flaming red. “You can shut up now,” she gritted.

Ahem. Ask her how Rex is doing these days.

Amy looked at Lisa's dancing eyes, her mischievous grin. “I just got told to ask you how Rex is doing these days.”

And just like that, the light died in Lisa's eyes, the grin fell away. “Low blow,” she muttered. “Low fucking blow.”

Who's Rex?

Her older brother. Committed suicide. Caused her to trigger.

Christ, you could have told me. I'd never have said it like that.

She was giving you a hard time!

It was all in fun! Jesus!

Amy stood up, opened her arms and hugged Lisa. “Look, I'm sorry,” she muttered. “I didn't mean to – he told me to say it, didn't tell me who Rex was.”

Just for a moment Lisa leaned into the embrace, then she pulled away. “Hey, don't go getting ideas now, just because I'm blonde,” she snarked, the grin returning to her face.

Amy rolled her eyes and jabbed Lisa in the ribs. “Seriously,” she growled. “You villains and your sense of humour.”

“Help, help, I'm being brutalised by a superhero,” Lisa announced in a deadpan voice. Brian started chuckling, followed by Taylor. Alec looked bored; Rachel glanced over, then ignored them thereafter.

The dogs heard the bus first; they turned their heads and one of them barked; Rachel hushed it with a word. It was still a little distance away; Amy turned toward Rachel. “I've been meaning to ask,” she commented. “What are your dogs' names?”

Rachel pointed at them each in turn. “Brutus. Judas. Angelica.” As they heard their names, their heads came up and their ears twitched.

Amy nodded. “Before I go, if you want, I could check them over.”

Rachel glared at her. “What, you think I don't take care of my dogs?”

All I did was offer. What did I do wrong?

Don't be tentative. Be positive. Look her in the eye.

Amy took a deep breath, and forced herself to look the bulkier girl in the eyes. It wasn't easy for her; she naturally tended toward deference. “No, I don't think that,” she stated as firmly as she could. “But my power gives me the ability to see if anything, anything at all, is wrong with them. Parasites that have only just lodged. Diseases they've only just caught. Cuts, bruises. I can fix all that. But only if you want me to.”

She held the stare as Rachel continued to glare at her. Gradually, a little of the hostility leached out, and Rachel nodded sharply. “Okay.” She whistled, and the dogs sat down in front of her in a row.

Amy went to thank her, but found that the words would not come out.

Don't thank her. It doesn't mean anything to her.

Oh. Okay.

Dropping to one knee, she ran her hands over the muzzle and head of the dog called Brutus. He was in good health; there were a couple of old injuries, but they weren't hampering him. She moved to Judas, and found a cut on his pad, which she closed over, and the beginning of an ear infection, which she cleared up. Finally, she went to Angelica. The torn ear was only cosmetic, but the missing eye -

“I can grow her eye back if you want.”

Rachel stared down at her. “What?”

“Her eye. I can grow it back.”

“Will it work?”

“Yes. It will work.” Did the girl think she'd give the dog a non-working eye?

“Good. Do it.”

Wow, I see what you mean about not understanding 'thanks'.

She doesn't think 'human'. She thinks 'dog'.

Oh. Okay. I think.

Angelica whimpered and shifted under her hands as the eye began to reform in the socket, but a sharp word from Rachel held the animal still. In seconds, the operation was complete, and the dog was blinking at them from two perfectly normal eyes. She looked somewhat confused for a few moments, but seemed to be adjusting well. Rachel leaned down and snapped her fingers on either side of the dog's head; covering the good eye with her hand, she watched as Angelica tracked her finger with the the regrown one.

She slapped Amy on the shoulder. “It works. Good.”

I see what you mean. I feel as though I've just been fed a doggy treat for doing a trick properly.

There was an amused snort. Something like that.

The bus pulled up at the stop, and the doors opened; Amy got up, dusted her knee off and nodded to the Undersiders. “I'll see you guys later then.”

Brian nodded back. “See you then. And thanks for stepping up.”

Amy shook her head. “Can't let that shit fly.”

She turned and climbed on board the bus; to her surprise, Taylor followed.

“What's going on?” asked Amy. “Are you bodyguarding me home?”

Taylor shook her head. “Nope. I need to get home, too.”

They found seats down the back, away from everyone else. Amy shook her head. “Somehow, I never thought of supervillains riding the bus. It just doesn't fit the image.”

Taylor grinned. “You'll have to excuse me. I'm only new at it.”

For some reason, this struck Amy as being very funny.


End of Part Six

Part Seven

 

I, Panacea

Part Seven: Questions and Answers


Taylor looked directly at Amy. "Listen ... before we go any farther, can you answer some questions for me?"

Uh ... what do I say?

Say yes. I suspect that these are questions you'd like answered, too.

Amy nodded. "Yes." She paused. "That is, Security will be telling me the answers, and I'll be passing them on to you."

Behind her glasses, Taylor frowned slightly. "Not to say that I don't trust you, but ... "

May I?

Amy sighed internally. Okay. Go ahead.

"But you're wondering if she'll give you the answers I give her, right?"

Taylor blinked slightly. "I'm talking to ... Security, now, right?"

Amy's mouth curled into a slight smile. "That's me. Mike Allen, at your service."

"Right." Taylor took a breath. “How can I know that I can trust what you have to tell me?”

Amy felt herself shrug. “You'll have to make up your own mind on that. But I'll tell you now; I know things about you that you don't think anyone else knows, I know things about you that not even Lisa knows … and I know things about that you don't know. And I'm willing to share.”

“I'm really not sure how to take that,” Taylor responded. “You could be running a huge bluff.”

“Not on Lisa. She'd know if I was lying. Or if Amy was. You noticed she could tell between when I was talking, when Amy was talking, and when Amy was telling her what I was saying?”

Reluctantly, Taylor nodded. “Yeah. So, uh, talking about Lisa, would you be able to tell me … “

Amy felt her eyebrow lift. “Does she know? Yeah. She knows.”

Taylor paled. “Shit.”

Amy's head shook slightly. “Don't worry about it. She knows that you'd decide, eventually, to join them for real. She's not going to out you to them.”

“Oh.” Taylor paused, her gaze becoming introspective.

Is this about her being a hero and infiltrating them?

Yeah. Lisa knew from the start. But she was kind of suicidal, so Lisa took her under her wing anyway.

Oh. Because of her brother?

Basically, yeah.

Amy paused to consider that. Lisa was being nice to Taylor because she wanted to help her …

You realise, this is really screwing with my perception of how villains are supposed to act.

I find it helps if you ignore the descriptor and focus on the actions and the motivations.

Oblivious to the silent conversation, Taylor spoke up again. “Armsmaster told me that there are two murderers in the Undersiders. Who are they? And who kills Alexandria?”

Amy felt her throat being cleared. Oh boy. This is going to be interesting.

Why? What's the matter?

You'll see.

“Before I answer that, Taylor,” Amy's voice replied, “I need you to remember to keep an open mind. All right?”

Taylor grimaced. “Oh shit. Lisa?”

A shake of the head. “Taylor. Open mind. Okay?”

“Okay.” Taylor bit her lip slightly. “So tell me.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Alec is one of them. I mentioned that he's Heartbreaker's son, yeah?”

“Uh, I've heard of Heartbreaker,” Taylor admitted. “But I don't know too much about him.”

“Canadian villain. Emotion controlling powers. He can rewrite your entire mindset regarding himself. Make you love him, utterly loyal, scared to death, whatever. And it doesn't wear off, if he doesn't want it to. He meets celebrities in the street, talks to them for thirty seconds, and they willingly come home with him.” Amy was surprised by the flat, hard tone of her own voice.

Wow, you don't like him very much.

Would you?

She considered for a moment. I don't suppose I would.

“Christ,” muttered Taylor. “Why haven't they - “

“Arrested him?” Amy's shoulders rose and fell in another shrug. “They tried. Everyone who comes near him falls under his spell. Anyone who tries to get close has to get through all the innocents; people who will literally lay down their lives for him. So they leave him be.”

“That's horrible.” Taylor looked sick. “And Alec is one of his kids?”

Amy's head nodded. “He wanted to get away from the old man. But before he managed it, he was ordered by Heartbreaker to kill one of his minions, a man who had let him down. So he did. Forced the man to kill himself.”

“A murderer.” Taylor's voice was hard.

“Under duress by Heartbreaker,” Amy's voice reminded her. “The reason he doesn't seem to be a very nice person? That's years of his father screwing with his head.”

“Oh. Okay.” She paused for a moment. “And the other murderer?”

“Rachel.”

Taylor's eyes opened wider for a moment, then she slowly nodded. For a moment, one hand rested on the other sleeve. “Yeah. I can believe that.”

“Taylor.” Amy's voice was flat. “Listen to me. Rachel has had a really horrible deal. You already know that she spent ten years in the foster system, right?”

Taylor nodded again. “Yeah. Brian told me.” Her tone wasn't as flat, any more.

Amy's voice went on. “Abandoned by her mother when she was four, put into the foster system. Systematically targeted by all the other kids, until she learned to fight back, and hit hard and fast, before they could hit her.”

That shot went home, Amy saw. Taylor was jolted to her heels.

Why did that affect her so much? Then she realised. Oh – you said she was bullied.

Yeah. Up till now she's seen Rachel as a thug. Now, she might see why she's like that.

Taylor looked at Amy. “When did she … “

“Become like she is now? It took ten years. She was seen as a troublemaker, nothing she did was good enough, nothing she owned was sacred. Until she found a stray dog, coaxed it home, kept it in secret, went hungry to feed it her own lunches. But then her foster mother … well, let's just say, the dog was drowning, and Rachel triggered. Her power activated, the dog got big, it had never been trained, and it went after the foster family. People got hurt. Killed.”

“Oh god.” Taylor's hands were clenching tightly. “I've been seeing her all wrong. She … she's like me, in a way.”

Amy felt her head nod, her hand reach out to rest on Taylor's forearm. Taylor glanced up at her, wary.

“Your arm,” Amy's voice observed. “Where her dog bit it. Still sore?”

Taylor blinked. “How did -” She cut herself off. “You said you knew stuff I thought no-one knew.”

“I did,” Amy heard herself confirm. She didn't try to say anything for herself; her head was whirling over what she'd just heard herself say, about two of the villains she had just been talking to.

“Oh, uh, yeah, still a bit sore,” Taylor admitted. “But it's fine.” She took a deep breath. “How about the other bit? Who's due to kill Alexandria?”

Amy took a deep breath. “Okay, first off? Me telling you this makes it a whole lot less likely to happen. Which is probably a good thing. But second? What I said earlier, about an open mind? Goes twice as much for this one.”

“All right,” Taylor agreed, her voice steady. “I can do that. I'm listening. I won't judge.”

Amy nodded, but her passenger did not speak through her. She could feel his mind racing, even though she couldn't see the shape of the thoughts themselves.

Are you trying to figure out how to break it to her? Which of her friends is going to murder Alexandria?

Kind of. This is going to be a real tough one.

If you tell me who, I can maybe offer advice?

A mental shake of the head. Sorry. I'm going to have to … hmm.

“Taylor.” Her voice was quiet, almost contemplative. “Let me ask you a question. Hypothetically.”

Taylor nodded warily. “Okay.”

“Let's say, hypothetically speaking, you're in the place of the person who's going to kill Alexandria.”

Even more warily, Taylor nodded again. “All right.”

“Now, you don't want to do it. Who does? Seriously, Alexandria's a hero. Or at least, you're used to seeing her as a hero. But right now, she's threatening to capture your friends, one by one, unless you surrender to her. She's already grabbed a couple. And the last one she brought in, in a body bag. And you're fairly sure that it's Brian.”

Taylor's face had paled again, and her hands were clenched. “Oh god.”

Amy's head nodded. “Yeah. So, hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to prevent her from killing the rest of your friends, including Lisa, and killing her was the only way to do it, would you?”

Taylor's head was lowered, but her knuckles were white. “God help me.” Her voice was barely audible.

Amy's arm went out, and her hand rested on Taylor's shoulder for a moment. “If you really want to know who kills Alexandria, I can tell you. But you don't have to know, not really. The circumstances, yeah. The culprit, not so much, yeah?”

There was a long, long pause, then Taylor raised her head. “No,” she managed. “No. I don't.”

“And anyway,” Amy heard herself add briskly, “because I've told you this, I doubt very much that it'll ever happen. So cheer up. Bullet dodged.”

Taylor blinked. “ … right.”

So who does kill Alexandria?

Given that it's never likely to happen now, does it matter?

Amy paused; there was a tone in his mental voice … It's Taylor, isn't it?

One more time. Does it really matter?

She looked at Taylor. The girl did not look like a murderer to her. No. I guess not.

Taylor sniffled and pulled out a tissue, to wipe her nose. “So. What else do you have to tell me?”

Amy's head tilted slightly. “Did you have any more questions?”

“You said that you know stuff about me that I don't know about myself. What is it?”

Amy felt herself smile. “Good question. Several things, in fact. One of which is that you're becoming less and less likely to change sides back to being a hero, at this stage. Lisa is a good friend, you're developing feelings for Brian, which he's too focused to return, and Armsmaster is still a dick.”

Startled, Taylor let out a giggle. “Yes, he is, isn't he? But Brian … “ Her expression became lost. “I … he … “

“He's fixated on making a proper home for his little sister,” Amy heard herself explain. “Besides, you're two years younger than him; he's growing to see you more as a sister than as a potential love interest.” A shrug. “Sorry.”

“Okay, fine,” she replied, her voice perhaps harsher than Amy thought she intended it to be. “That'll just make it easier to break free. I know who their boss is now. I can turn them in.”

Amy's head shook. “Probably not a good idea,” her voice cautioned Taylor. “If you try to inform the PRT about Coil, they will stuff it up. Taking him out requires immediate action, and the PRT is a bureaucracy. They never do anything fast. And that's if they take you seriously. Worst case, Lisa is killed or enslaved, and the Undersiders with her.”

Taylor's head hit the backrest with a soft thump. “Fuck.”

“On the other hand, I can offer you something we can act on,” Amy heard herself continue brightly. “Something that will improve your life measurably.”

Taylor glanced at her sharply. “What?”

Amy felt herself smile. “What if I said I could stop the bullying? Flat, dead, over and done?”

Silence fell between them; Taylor's eyes bored into Amy's. She had never been on the receiving end of such an intense stare before.

“You can do that.” It was not a question.

Wait, you can do that?

His tone was amused. We can do that. If you're willing.

“Well,” her voice responded to Taylor, “given that I know who and why, and Panacea is a well-known hero, I'm thinking if I walked into Winslow tomorrow morning, and had a word with Principal Blackwell about Emma Barnes, Madison Clements, and … “ A pause, inviting.

“Sophia Hess,” Taylor completed the statement, biting the words off.

Wait, what? Sophia Hess? I know that name. That's …

Oh yeah. That's Shadow Stalker. There was grim satisfaction in his voice.

Wait, Taylor's being bullied by a Ward?

Since before she was a Ward, but yeah. That's the gist.

Oh shit, that's so wrong.

“Exactly and precisely,” Amy heard herself say; she wasn't sure if he was responding to Taylor or herself, or both. “If I told Blackwell that those three were bullying you, and that I wanted something done about it now … “

“But would they do anything?” protested Taylor. “Would they even listen to you?”

“I'll let Amy answer that one.” Amy felt the control over her body relax and withdraw. Over to you.

What? What do I say?

What would you say in a situation like this?

She took a deep breath. “Yeah, they would. Especially if I brought along Glory Girl. You know, my sister?” She grinned at Taylor. “I tell her about this, and I guarantee she will go to town on this Blackwell person. She's got a thing about people hurting those weaker than them. Also, she loves a good media spectacle.”

Taylor grimaced. “But … how are you going to explain why superheroes are getting involved anyway? It's likely to make people look closely at me. I don't want to be outed for this.”

Amy shook her head. “No, you won't. Because there's another cape involved. And this will mean that Blackwell will want to keep it as quiet as possible.”

“What, Blackwell's a cape?” Taylor shook her head violently. “I can't see that.”

Amy chuckled. “No. She's not.” Is she?

Nope. Carry on, you're doing fine.

Thanks. “But if I tell her that one of her students, who she knows is a cape, is bullying someone, she's not going to want that to get out.”

Taylor stared at Amy. “ … what?”

Should I tell her again?

A grin. No. Let her sort it out in her own mind.

Amy felt a sudden doubt. Should we really out Shadow Stalker to her, in this way? Taylor might decide to take drastic action.

She won't.

How do you know?

Because she didn't, the last two times that she did find out.

That's very confusing, when you talk like that, you know.

A grin. I know. The grin faded. And besides, Shadow Stalker needs to be shut down, hard.

Okay, I can get that. Bullying is -

Taylor spoke, interrupting her train of thought. “So what you're saying is, either Emma, Madison or Sophia is a cape.”

Amy nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Are you going to make me guess?”

“No.” Amy took a deep breath. “It's Sophia.”

“Sophia?” repeated Taylor. “Sophia Hess?She's the cape?”

Amy glanced around. No-one was paying attention to them. “Keep it down,” she suggested anyway. “But yes, that's what Security tells me.”

Taylor ran her hands through her hair, disarranging it thoroughly. She didn't seem to notice, or care. “Shit. Shit. Who is she? Which cape?” Without waiting for an answer, she moved on. “Is she a Ward?”

“Uh, yes,” Amy answered.

Taylor's eyes snapped into focus. “Shadow Stalker,” she whispered. “She's Shadow Stalker.”

Amy nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “But you've got to listen.”

The sharp tone in her voice seemed to get Taylor's attention. “What?”

“We don't just go in looking for trouble,” Amy urged her. “You shelve it, for the evening. Tomorrow, we go to the school. I'll back you up. I'll get Vicky to come along too. She'll enjoy the chance to yell at someone. We confront Blackwell.”

Tell her to bring the pages.

Pages?

She'll know what I mean. The ones she's been working on.

Taylor was looking at her; she realised that she had stopped talking. “Uh, he says to bring the pages. The ones you've been working on.”

There was a light in Taylor's eyes now, one that had been absent before. “Oh, you can bet I'll bring the pages.” She paused. “Did you know that she's carrying lethal arrows?”

Amy blinked. “I … no, I didn't know that. Isn't that kind of against the rules?”

“Oh yeah,” Taylor replied. “Totally against her probation.”

Amy held up her hand. “Wait a second.” Probation? We didn't cover this.

Because we didn't get to it. Shadow Stalker used to be a vigilante, right? Joined the Wards?

Uh, yes?

Yeah. What they don't tell you is that she nearly killed someone. Nailed him to a wall. So it was a choice between juvey and the Wards. And guess who took her side in that case.

I have no idea.

Ask Taylor what Emma's dad does for a living.

Taylor grinned as Amy focused on her. “So, he fill you in, did he?”

“Uh, some of it, I guess,” Amy admitted. “He wanted me to ask you what Emma's dad does for a living.”

“Mr Barnes?” Taylor asked. “He's a divorce lawyer. Why?”

“Ah,” Amy replied. “He's the one who represented Sophia in her hearing, to see if she'd go to juvey or not.”

Taylor's jaw dropped open. “Wait, so he knew? He knows?”

“About her being a cape, probably?” hedged Amy. A little help?

Yeah, he knows. About the bullying, probably not. But he's also likely to threaten legal action if you try to nail anything on Emma.

Oh. Oh, I see. Aloud, she continued. “Yeah, he knows about her being a cape, but not about the rest of it. But Security says that he's likely to pull out all the stops to protect his daughter if we make accusations against her.”

“Oh god.” Taylor leaned back against the seat. “Him and Dad have been friends like forever.” She looked hopefully at Amy. “Would that … ?”

Not in this case.

“I just got told, not in this case.” She shrugged. “Well, it probably won't matter anyway. Because you know who my mom is.”

Oh shit. After the scene we had earlier …

So tell Vicky, and she can get your mom in on it.

You're altogether too good at knowing which buttons to press, did you know that?

Sorry, did you want me to be polite and ineffective, or actually get this shit sorted?

Amy sighed internally. Point taken.

Taylor was looking curiously at Amy. “Would your mom get involved?”

“Not sure.” Amy shrugged.

You do know that Emma's dad works at the same firm as Carol does.

Oh wait, does she?

Sure. Alan Barnes.

… yeah, I remember the name now. Huh.

She blinked. “Actually, I've just been reminded of something else. Emma's dad works at the same firm that Carol – Mom – does.”

“Oh, okay,” Taylor replied cautiously. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

Amy grinned. “Well, if I can get Vicky to talk to her, and convince her in the matter, she might just step in and tell him to back off on any legal action.”

Taylor took a deep breath. “That … would be good, I think.” She glanced at Amy. “Do you think you'll be able to talk to your sister about all this, without outing me, that is?”

“Trust me,” Amy told her with a roll of the eyes, “Vicky doesn't see anything that Vicky's not interested in seeing. She's very self-centred that way.”

Taylor nodded. “Huh. Okay, cool. Should I bring Dad to school as well?”

Should she?

Hm. To be honest, I'm not sure. On the one hand, it might do well to turn up in force; on the other, that will slow things down, as they get their parents in as well.

I could ask Carol her legal opinion on it.

Might help. Oh, just one thing. The 'social worker' who's going to be turning up to represent Sophia? That's her PRT handler. Just so you know.

Amy blinked. Wow. Okay. Good to know. Aloud, she went on. “Tell you what; I'll talk to Mom about it. See what she says.”

“Yeah,” agreed Taylor. “Might be a good idea.” She smiled at Amy. “You know, when we first met, I wasn't at all sure that we were going to be getting along.”

Amy snorted. “You put three poisonous spiders on me, and I hit you on the head with a fire extinguisher. The basis of a lifetime friendship.”

“Which reminds me,” Taylor observed. “What did you do to the spiders, anyway?”

“Oh, to screw up your control over them?” Amy shrugged. “I could see the parts of their brains that were sending back feedback, so I turned it from a tight, clean signal to one with as much garbage as possible.”

“Well, it worked,” Taylor admitted ruefully. “I could barely concentrate. You really did a number on me.” She paused. “But what happened to the rest of them? Once I lost fine control, hell, I had no idea where they even were. They could've been biting everyone in the room, and I wouldn't have known.”

Amy grinned. “Oh, uh, I found them on the people, paralysed them and left them sending back the same signal that they'd been sending when I touched them. Then I sent everyone upstairs while I tried to deal with you.”

“Huh.” Taylor blinked. “Wow, that nearly worked, too. It did work, right up until you clocked me with the extinguisher.”

“Yeah, about that,” Amy commented. “How's your head? I hit you pretty hard.”

“Still sore,” Taylor admitted. “How's yours?”

“Probably more sore,” Amy confessed. “But I can do something about yours, if you want.”

“I – uh - “ Taylor hesitated.

Amy sighed. “If you're worrying about the threats I made back in the bank, don't be. I've learned a lot over the last few hours. Security's told me so much … I'm still getting my head around it all.”

Taylor looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

Amy reached out and took her hand; Taylor did not stop her.

Should I heal her?

Up to you. But it's a good thing. You and Taylor could be good friends.

Not -

He chuckled. No, not that kind of 'good friends'. She's straight, and you're … what you are. Just … friends. There's a synergy you two could reach with your powers; she controls bugs, and you can make new bugs.

Amy began the process of fixing the damage. Taylor had sustained a very mild concussion, but nothing that would affect her. The bruising and swelling was also relatively mild, but she brought that down to nothing. She also noted the bite-marks on Taylor's arm, probably from Rachel's dogs. It was the work of a moment to fix that as well.

I'm not sure if I want to enable her as a villain.

With you helping her, she could be a seriously effective hero. And what did I say about paying too much attention to descriptors? She wants to do the right thing. And, you know, save Dinah Alcott.

If I hadn't told her about it … what would have happened?

His voice was serious. She would have found out, eventually. And she would have quit the Undersiders in protest, when they didn't back her up in wanting Dinah freed. Because Coil had too tight a grasp on them, by then. And even Lisa didn't get the full implications.

What happened in the end?

Oh, she rejoined them, and they did end up freeing Dinah, and killing Coil. But that caused a whole other set of problems. Which is why I want to bring him down early.

Oh. Okay.

She let go Taylor's hand. “That should do it.”

Taylor reached up and gingerly felt her head. “Huh. Doesn't hurt any more.” More confidently, she touched her forearm. “And you fixed that too?”

Amy nodded. “One's as easy as the other.”

“Well, thanks.” Taylor smiled. “I appreciate it.” She looked out the window of the bus. “Oh, this is my stop. So, this evening?”

“I'll be ready.” Unbidden, Amy's hand came up, formed a fist.

Taylor blinked at it, then shrugged and bumped it with her own fist. “See you then.”

“See you, Taylor.” She watched Taylor get up and shoulder her bag, then make her way off the bus. As the bus pulled away from the curb again, she could see the tall, lanky figure making her way down the street.

What was that about?

Oh, it's a thing I did with her, last time. Seemed appropriate.

Huh. Okay. So, you're serious about making new types of bugs for her, huh?

Absolutely. It'll make life so much easier for both of you.

Okay, I'll think about it. Got any ideas?

He chuckled. Many.

Okay, let's hear them.

As he began to speak, Amy leaned back to enjoy the bus ride.

Today had been a very interesting day, and it wasn't over yet.


End of Part Seven

 

I, Panacea

Part Eight: Facing the Music


Amy mulled over the descriptions of the types of bugs that Michael had suggested to her.

I could make these?

You could definitely make these. I've seen you do it.

When you say 'me' …

… I mean the previous version of you, yes. But it's still you. Still able to do it.

I … still not sure if I should. After all, she's a villain.

His voice was very dry. In about the same way that Sophia Hess is a hero.

That jolted her. I'll accept it when you say that Shadow Stalker's a bully, sure, but -

She's also repeatedly attempted to murder Grue.

You're joking.

Nope. His powers interfere with hers, so she's decided that he needs to die. She uses lethal arrows at every chance, to try to kill him. Not arrest, not capture. Kill.

Amy took a deep breath. You're actually serious about this. This is so against the unwritten rules.

Silently, he made a rude noise. Like she cares about those. Next time you get a chance, do a body read on him. He has a scar on his stomach from a through-and-through wound. Shadow Stalker shot him there with a lethal arrow, after she joined the Wards.

Fuck. Amy rarely swore; this was an indication of how shaken she was. Has she ever actually killed anyone?

At least one that I know of, but that was basically an accident. Possibly more. There was the guy she nearly killed, the one that got her into the Wards. And then there's the people she's let it happen to, because they were too scared to fight back -

No, no, wait, what? Shadow Stalker?

He sighed. Yeah, see, her personal philosophy is that the strong survive, and the weak don't deserve to. If you're being attacked, mugged, raped, whatever, if you're too scared to fight back, then she doesn't stop them. She just watches, then presumably comes in afterward and kicks their asses. But unless you prove you're willing to fight back, she won't lift a finger to help you while it's happening.

Amy shook her head, just a little, not wanting to get anyone's attention. That's wrong on so many levels.

Well, yeah. His tone was almost matter of fact. She also caused Taylor's trigger event.

Amy had thought she couldn't be shocked any more. Do I want to know?

Probably not. His tone was contemplative. I'll just hit the high points. You know about the bullying.

Yes, I recall. Amy's tone was cautious. She could not imagine any act of bullying so egregious that it would trigger powers in someone.

Okay. January third. Her locker had been 'somehow' filled with the contents of the special bins found in the girls' bathrooms, over the holidays. With me so far?

Unfortunately, she was. Did Sophia do that?

His tone was almost cheerful. Easiest way, isn't it? So, she smells the smell. Opens the locker. Goes to toss her cookies. Sophia grabs her by the hair and shoves her in the locker. Locks her in. Leaves her there. She doesn't get let out until the janitor gets told, after an hour or more.

Amy's eyes went wide, and she put a hand over her own mouth. Oh my fucking God. That's a trigger event, right there.

Sure as hell was. First and second triggers, one after the other.

Oh god. Amy was no expert, but she knew about both types of triggers, and the sort of stimuli needed for each one. And Shadow Stalker did that?

Signs point to 'yes'.

Oh god. Oh my god. And I thought the Wards were so nice.

He sighed again. Most of them are. Kid Win loves being a Tinker, but he doesn't know what his specialty is yet. Clockblocker is a smartarse, but his dad's got leukaemia. He's gonna ask Vicky to ask you about helping him, sometime in late May, after - He cut himself off.

After what?

After something else happens. Right now, not a huge concern. But yeah, Clockblocker. Not a bad kid. Vista, she's good at what she does. More experience than most. Prefers her hero life over civilian life. Her parents are on the outs with each other. Browbeat's a little on the cold side, but that's just the way he is. Aegis and Gallant are good people, too. The only really bad apple in the bunch is Shadow Stalker.

Amy felt relief that her judgement had been not found totally wanting. So she's an isolated case, then?

Not so much,he told her. Taylor went to Armsmaster before the bank robbery. Her intention was always to infiltrate, to be a mole. She asked him to give her an assurance that if it went wrong, if they were captured, she wouldn't go to jail. This is after she let him take credit for Lung.

Amy had a feel for the way this was going. He said no?

Got it in one. Called her a stupid girl. So then she stuck with it, continued to gather information. If things go as they probably will, in a while there'll be more clashes with the PRT and Protectorate, which the Undersiders will win, mostly because Taylor's a friggin' tactical genius when it comes to her bugs.

Oh boy.

So, anyway, during the next Endbringer battle, Armsmaster sets it up so she'll be killed. Only, she isn't. He nearly dies, but she saves his life. And then she takes on Leviathan, hand to hand, more or less.

Holy shit. She takes on fucking Leviathan?

Well, she shoves Armsmaster's halberd up Leviathan's arse, and gets her back broken for her trouble, and she nearly dies, but yeah.

Amy was nearly lost for words. Jesus Christ.

He chuckled. Basically, yeah. That's when she accidentally finds out who Shadow Stalker is. And then, because she refuses to unmask in return, they're all threatening her with the Birdcage. When Lisa more or less blackmails them into pulling their heads in, Armsmaster turns around and outs her to the Undersiders.

Outs her?

Tells them that she only joined in order to betray them.

Oh, that's just … wow. He is a dick.

Yyyup.

When she next spoke, she was more contemplative. I can see why she wouldn't unmask. If Sophia's got it in for her that badly, if she knew who she was under the mask …

Correct. In fact, afterward, Sophia goes hunting Skitter, with the express purpose of killing her. Holds her down and tries to cut her throat.

Tries?

Spider silk is pretty well knife proof, it seems.

Oh. Well. She tried to haul her mind back on track. So, all this has yet to happen?

It might not happen. A lot of it won't now, given that you've reached out to the Undersiders, and that Taylor knows what she knows, and what you and Vicky are going to do tomorrow at Winslow.

Because of you.

Yeah. And hopefully you'll be willing to help me make a lot more changes. Help people out, save the world, that sort of thing.

Amy blinked. I … wow. Save the world?

Not all at once, he assured her. One step at a time. But will you give it a try?

She drew a deep breath. I … guess I can, at that.

He smiled. Excellent. Isn't this your stop?

Oh. Oh, wow, it is too. She scrambled up and out of the seat, and only just made it off the bus before the doors closed.

<>^<>​

The house loomed large before Amy. She took a deep breath before starting up the path to the front door.

I don't suppose you have any advice for getting through the next half hour?

His tone was grimly amused. I did suggest asking for a place to stay, with the Undersiders.

You did. Maybe I should have done that.

Or you could stay with Taylor and her dad. They're good people.

I – what? She was moderately startled. Would that even work?

Did last time. You and Taylor ended up great friends.

I mean, would that even work, this time?

Hm. He thought about it. Maybe we can look into it, tomorrow. But right now, maybe you should open the door. Amusement tinged his voice. Unless you plan on sleeping on the lawn tonight.

She blinked, realising that she was standing on the front step, staring at the door. Fishing out her keys, she unlocked the door, and let herself in.

The first voice she heard was Vicky's. “Amy! You're back!”

This was followed by the appearance of her sister, wearing a robe over pyjamas, as she ambush-hugged Amy, and held her tight. “I've been so worried about you!”

Amy patted Vicky's back; she was going to go for a hug, but her hands instead worked to extricate her from the embrace. “I'm okay, Vicky, really,” she heard her voice say. “Just a bit tired, all right?”

What the hell are you doing? Why can't I hug my sister?

Because she's in her pyjamas, and I'm not hugging a sixteen year old girl in her pyjamas if I can possibly help it. And yes, I saw what you were thinking when you went to hug her. We are not going there.

You said you weren't going to take over my body without my permission. You lied to me!

A sigh of resignation. Yeah, I promised you that, didn't I. She felt control return. Just remember what I said. Bad things happen if you keep going down this path.

Wait, you didn't tell me anything about that!

I didn't? Fuck, I didn't. I'm getting my timelines mixed up. Look, if you keep thinking that you and Vicky have a chance, then bad things happen. She's not interested. Barring pretty extreme circumstances, she never will be interested.

Vicky was eyeing her. “Amy, are you okay? You kind of zoned for a moment there.”

Amy nodded. “Yeah … things have been happening. I've kind of got a lot to think about.” She put her arms around Vicky, and felt her sister returning the hug. But she didn't make it as deep, or as long, as she could have.

I'm going to need more explanation than that. A lot more.

You probably won't thank me for it.

I'll take that chance.

Carol was the next to appear. “Amy, where have you been?” Her voice was sharp and disapproving. “Your father and I need to talk to you.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “You mean, you need to talk at me, and Mark will sit there and nod his head occasionally.”

Vicky stared at her. Carol's jaw dropped. Even Michael seemed to be taken aback. Ouch.

To give her credit, her foster mother recovered quickly. “What's gotten into you? You will not speak to me like that.”

Amy looked her in the eye. “Tell me that's not exactly how it's going to go down.”

“Amy Dallon!” snapped Carol. “You do not get to speak to us like you did earlier, then storm out of the house, and come back with more … more … “

“Backchat?” suggested Amy, feeling as though she was riding the crest of a wave. She knew she was going to crash, and crash hard, really soon, but right now she was flying. “Insolence? Truth?”

“Amy!” protested Vicky. “Don't talk to Mom like that. She's your mother too, you know.”

Amy snorted. “In name only. And my name's not Amy Dallon. It's Amelia Claire Lavere. We may as well use it, from now on. Seeing that I know the truth.”

Carol shook her head. “I always knew this day would come,” she observed, more to herself than to anyone else. “I just didn't think it would come this soon.”

Vicky frowned at her. “What day? And who's Amelia Claire Lavere?”

“I am,” Amy told her. “This may come as a surprise to you, but Tattletale, back in the bank? She was telling the truth. I'm a supervillain's daughter.”

“Yeah, I know,” Vicky replied, surprising her slightly. “Mom told me. Marquis.”

“Wow, fucking thanks, Carol,” Amy responded. “You tell Vicky, but you can't be bothered telling me?”

Carol opened her mouth to reply, but Vicky got there first. “This afternoon,” she added hastily. “She told me this afternoon, after you left.”

Taken aback, Amy blinked. “Oh. Okay then.”

“I only did it so that Victoria would be fully informed once you returned,” Carol informed her tartly. “Though where you got that name from is beyond me. It's only written down in three places that I know of, and you don't have access to any of them.”

Amy let a smile curl her lips. She imagined that it might look a little like Tattletale's know-it-all smile. “Let's just say, I have access to information sources that you don't know about.”

Carol's eyes narrowed. “You've been talking to villains.”

Amy's eyes widened. How the hell does she know about that?

Michael seemed equally surprised. I have no idea.

“Villains?” Amy squeaked, through a suddenly-constricted throat.

“His old allies,” Carol clarified bitterly. “They finally contacted you, didn't they? Looking to see if you'll take up where your father left off?”

There was a long moment as the realisation soaked into Amy's brain. Then she burst out laughing. Looking around, she found a chair and sat down, still chuckling.

“This is no laughing matter,” Carol told her severely. “If Marquis' old organisation -”

Amy shook her head, letting the occasional snicker escape. “No, Carol. I haven't been contacted by any of Marquis' crew. I wouldn't even know who they are. I don't think they even exist any more. Anyway, I'm not about to become a supervillain. That's not in my life plan.”

Unless, you know, you join the Undersiders.

Shut up. That's different, and you know it.

Vicky knelt beside her. “Then what is going on, Amy? Something's different, and you're scaring me.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Can we go into the living room? I think we're all going to need to be sitting down for this.”

<>^<>​

They sat on the two sofas, on either side of the coffee table, facing one another. Carol sat on one sofa, with Mark beside her, with Amy opposite. Vicky went to sit beside her mother, visibly changed her mind, and sat beside Amy, although she maintained a certain distance.

Well, at least it's not three to one. How are you going to play this?

Amy's internal voice was a lot less sure than her outward facade. By ear, I guess. Any help?

When and if I can.

Thanks.

Carol opened the running, her voice harsh. “We're all here. Care to explain your actions?”

Amy was about to answer, when Michael broke in. Make Mark ask the questions.

What?

Tell her you'll only talk to Mark, not her. That brings him into this, and slows her down.

Oh. Yeah. Okay.

Amy took a deep breath. “Carol … you're a lawyer. You've got experience in tearing people apart on the witness stand. I'm not going to answer your questions.” She looked at her foster father. “But I'll answer them from you.”

Mark, who had been staring into the distance, blinked and roused himself. “Hmm, what?”

“Don't be ridiculous!” snapped Carol.

Amy raised an eyebrow. “So Mark doesn't have equal say with you?” It was true; she knew it was true, and so did Carol. But they both also knew that Carol wasn't about to admit it.

Her foster mother growled deep in her throat and turned to Mark. “Very well, dear. Ask her.”

Mark looked mildly at Amy, and thought for a moment. “Sweetie, you were a bit rude to your mother, earlier. Maybe you should apologise to her.”

Amy nodded. “I'm sorry for being rude to you, Carol. I apologise.” Her voice was contrite, but inside, she was grinning broadly. Okay, that's just genius.

Nope, just knowing how to rig the game.

“Not that!” Carol snapped. “Tell her to explain her actions!”

Mark sighed. “Maybe you're being just a little harsh on her?”

Carol shook her head. “Mark, we need to know. So please, ask her.”

Mark turned to look at Amy. “Honey, your mother wants to know why you acted like you did, earlier.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Okay, seeing as you asked so politely.” She looked around at the three of them. “I've discovered some things about myself today. About myself and about some other stuff. My name is Amelia Claire Lavere. I'm the daughter of a superviillain. Marquis, to be exact, but you all knew that.”

She paused; Vicky seemed to be hanging on her every word. Mark was gazing at her benignly. Only Carol made an impatient gesture. “Get on with it,” she muttered.

“You named me Amy Dallon,” Amy went on, locking eyes with Carol. “But that's not how you treated me. You didn't treat me like your daughter. You treated me like Marquis' daughter. Like a supervillain, ready to slap me down at the first sign of danger, of walking down the wrong path. Didn't you?”

“Well, it's true,” Carol snapped back. “You are Marquis' daughter, and from all indications, his blood is coming out in you, just as I suspected it would.”

Amy ignored her words and glanced significantly at Mark. He got the hint, and looked at his wife. “What do you want me to say, Carol?” he asked plaintively.

“Ask her where she found all this out,” Carol replied, her eyes never leaving Amy. “Ask her who contacted her.”

There was a long pause as Mark looked expectantly at Amy, and Amy returned the look. After a few moments, he seemed to realise that there was more expected of him. Not a good day to skip your meds, huh, Dad?

“Amy, your mother wants to know -”

She held up a finger. “Sorry, Mark, but I'm going to have to stop you right there. That's not true, and you know it. Carol isn't my mother, and you're not my father. I'm sorry to say it, but Carol's never acted like my mother, and you've only been a father on occasion.”

He paused, then nodded. “I suppose that's fair,” he agreed.

Carol stared at him. “Mark!” she exclaimed.

He looked at her and shrugged. “What am I supposed to say, Carol? I might be depressed, but I'm not stupid. You've never treated her the same as you've treated Vicky.”

“And what if I haven't?” she demanded. “Look at her, the way she's acting. After all we've done for her -” They devolved into a low-voiced argument.

Amy became aware of Vicky's gaze. “Amy, I've been an all right sister, haven't I?” she asked quietly.

Amy nodded. “Yes, Vicky. You have.” She swallowed a lump in her throat. “But -”

“But what?”

“I'll, uh, tell you later.” She looked back at Carol and Mark.

Her foster father cleared his throat. “Uh, Carol wants to know who told you this information. Where you found it out.”

She looked him in the eye. “I'm sorry, but I can not and will not give you that information.”

Mark grimaced. “She really wants to know.” From the thunderous look on Carol's face, that was the understatement of the year.

Amy heard her blood roaring in her ears. She had never, not ever, defied Carol and Mark like this before. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

Are you doing this?

Nope. It's all you.

I think I'm going to throw up.

If you do, aim at Carol.

She only just managed to stifle a wholly inappropriate giggle, and took a deep breath to settle herself. “And I really don't want to tell you. It wouldn't help the situation. In fact, telling you would only make it worse. Sorry.”

Carol's eyes narrowed. “I'm going to have to insist.”

“Uh, Amy,” Mark responded. “She says -”

“I heard her,” Amy replied. “But my name is Amelia Claire Lavere, and I'd really prefer you used it. And I don't care how much she insists, I'm not going to tell either of you where I learned my information. Because, in legal terms, that information is not germane to this case. Now, do you have any other questions you want to ask me?”

Carol's expression became more forbidding. “If you're not more forthcoming, young lady, penalties will be in order. Grounding, for a start.”

Amy didn't reply; she just looked at Mark.

“Oh, uh,” he began. “If you don't tell us where you got this information, you'll be grounded.” He leaned forward, his expression pleading. “Don't make this hard on yourself, sweetie. We only want the best for you. Whoever told you this stuff might not have your best interests at heart.”

Wow, good cop, bad cop. Took them long enough.

Yeah, with Carol, it's usually bad cop, bad cop.

“Well, whoever it was told me stuff that I'm better off for knowing,” Amy told Mark steadily. “And which you guys were keeping from me. So who's got my best interests at heart, again?”

Silence, while Carol regrouped. Amy could see her expression changing second by second as she thought furiously.

“Fine,” she gritted at last. “What did this person tell you, exactly? He or she might have given you false information. We might need to clear that up. Any misconceptions.”

Mark took up his cue. “Sweetie – Amelia,” he corrected himself. He ignored the sharp glance that Carol shot him, and went on. “Did this person tell you anything else that's important? We might need to know.”

She nodded to acknowledge his use of her name, then considered her reply. “I was told some other stuff, yes,” she agreed cautiously. “But I believe it all to be true. And if you decide that it's false, and you act on it, you could cause problems.”

“If you tell us, and it's important enough, we could help you with whatever it is,” Mark urged.

She looked him in the eye. “And can you guarantee that Carol will accept whatever I say without question? Because some of it's some pretty way-out stuff.”

“My job is to question,” gritted Carol.

“Which is a no,” Amy confirmed. “Which means that I can't tell you a lot of the stuff that I learned.”

Mark frowned. “Sweetie – what stuff? How did you learn it?”

Amy shook her head. “I can't tell you that. But I got it all from the same place that I got my name and who my father really is. And I believe, totally, in its accuracy.”

Wow, thanks. I'm touched.

A fleeting smile. You've been a lot more up front with me than they have. And you kept your promise, and gave me control back.

Carol compressed her lips. “I'm beginning to think that there's something more at play, here. Ever since you hit your head -”

Amy rolled her eyes. “You're acting like I was just clumsy or something. I was hit on the head by a supervillain and knocked out. After she held a knife to my throat.”

Mark frowned. “Why didn't you use your powers?”

“Full body costume, Dad,” Vicky put in. “Armoured too, by the looks of it.”

“Huh, wow,” he replied. “That's the bug controller?”

Amy nodded. “They're calling her Skitter.”

“Sounds creepy,” he observed.

Vicky shook her head. “Oh, trust me. You have no idea.”

Amy snorted. “You think you had it bad? Clockblocker had bugs crawl in under his eyelids.”

“Clockblocker?” asked Vicky, her brow wrinkling. “But he wears a full-face helmet -”

“Swapped with Aegis, to put them off guard,” Amy informed her. “But I'm guessing someone figured it out.”

“We're getting off track here,” snapped Carol. “Amy, you've been acting strangely since this Skitter hit you and knocked you out. I suspect some sort of outside influence.”

Vicky looked startled. “What, like a Master?”

“Seriously?” Amy snapped. “I get hit on the head, I learn some stuff, I act a bit differently because of what I learn, and all of a sudden it's Master/Stranger protocols? What are you gonna do? Lock me in my room until you find out what's going on? Because honestly, that shit isn't going to fly.”

Well, to be honest, you were under a sort of Master influence for a bit there.

It wasn't a Master, it was you. Which makes it an inside influence, not an outside one.

Wow, semantics even. I love it.

Oh, shush, you.

“Maybe the hit on the head jarred some memories loose,” Mark theorised. “And you remembered things that you'd forgotten. Add some concussion in there, and bingo.”

Should we pop that balloon, or let them think that's that for a while?

I guess? I don't know.

“A concussion that causes delusions? We're going to need you to be checked out, in that case,” decided Carol briskly. Her glance spoke volumes.

To make sure you don't become dangerous, right.

Wow, you really know how to read Mom.

A grin. I've got thirty years on you in that regard.

What's your mom like?

She's nice. You'd like her.

She became aware that Carol and Mark were watching her expectantly. “What?”

“Uh, Carol has suggested that you get your head checked out, to see if the damage is more problematic than we first thought,” Mark explained. “Are you all right with this?”

“And if I'm not,” Amy noted, “you're likely to think that something more sinister is going on with me, right?” Her eyes cut sideways to Carol. “Whereas mom of the year, over there, starts with that basic assumption.”

Wow, ouch. Did you mean to actually say that out loud?

Um, no, not really?

Mark's tone hardened. “Amelia, please don't be impolite to your mo – to Carol. I'm doing my best to be fair, here. Could you please answer the question?”

You know, he really is.

Okay, yeah, true. A lot more fair than she is.

Amy nodded, conceding the point. “Okay, sure. I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to make sure I'm not bleeding into my brain or something.” She took a breath. “And sorry, Carol. I didn't mean to be rude.”

He smiled. “Good.” A sideways glance at Carol. “Is that good enough for you, honey?”

The look on Carol's face stated that it really wasn't, but she nodded reluctantly. “Good enough for the time being,” she conceded.

“I'll phone the doctor, to make an appointment for tomorrow after school,” Mark decided, getting up. Carol got up also, muttering something about cooking dinner. They both exited the living room, leaving Amy and Vicky alone.

Vicky eyed her closely. “Are you really all right?” she asked solicitously.

Amy nodded. “Better than I have been for a while, actually,” she assured her sister. “Oh, I'll go along and let the doctor look at me. But that's not what's causing this.”

“Then what is?” asked Vicky, her expression curious.

For a moment, Amy considered telling her, then shook her head. “Sorry. You probably wouldn't believe me. Maybe later, when things are different.”

“Man,” Vicky observed, looking her up and down. “Mom wasn't wrong. You've changed. More self-confident. I think I like it.”

Amy smiled. “Thanks. I think I like it, too.”

Now to go off and hide in a corner until I stop shaking.

Yeah. I know how that goes.

Spontaneously, Amy hugged Vicky. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Vicky was surprised, but she hugged Amy back anyway. “Wow, okay. What for?”

“For supporting me,” Amy told her. “For taking my side. For being my sister.”

Vicky cheerfully tousled Amy's hair before letting her go. “Hey, what are sisters for?”

Amy smiled, but she was already thinking of what was going to happen later that night.


End of Part Eight

Part Nine

 

I, Panacea

Part Nine: Discoveries and Revelations


Dinner had been an awkward affair; Vicky had done her best to keep the conversation going, but between Mark's vagueness and Carol's less-than-thrilled demeanour, it had been hard going. Michael had stayed in the background, doing his best not to distract her. Amy appreciated it; she didn't need Carol and Mark having any more doubts about her mental capacity.

And now, after all of it, Amy lay awake in the darkness. Waiting for everyone to go to bed, go to sleep, so that she could sneak out and meet the Undersiders.

She stirred, rolled over to check the bedside clock. It was after ten. So how much longer?

Not sure. Taylor's probably waiting till your parents go to sleep.

Oh, right.

There was a tap on her bedroom door. “Ames? You awake?”

Shit. Pretend to be asleep.

I can't. Vicky's my sister. Aloud, she called out, “What's up, Vicky?”

Yeah, but you're lying on top of the covers, fully dressed. She's gonna know something's up.

Oh. Shit. Right.

“I can't sleep. Can I come in, talk awhile?”

Tell her no.

And then she'll really think there's something up. Amy scrambled to pull the sheets over herself. “Sure, okay. Come on in.”

The door opened, letting in soft light from the hallway; Vicky was silhouetted against it, wearing her robe over her pyjamas. Her brushed blonde hair made a gentle halo around her head.

For a mercy, she left the light off; she was of course familiar with Amy's bedroom, so she made her way straight to the side of the bed and sat down on it. Amy felt the mattress sag with her weight.

Momentarily, she wondered if Vicky's fearlessness at walking around in the dark stemmed from her immunity to stubbed toes and barked shins.

Heh. Probably.

Shush. “What's the matter?”

Vicky sat with one leg up on the bed; she reached forward, patting with one hand.

What's she after?

Oh. My hand. She holds my hand when we talk like this.

Oh god. Okay. Just push your sleeve up a bit, okay? So she doesn't realise.

Following Michael's advice, Amy was wearing a dark long-sleeved pullover. She slid the sleeve up toward her elbow, then reached out from under the covers to grasp Vicky's hand; their fingers interlocked in the familiar pattern. With the skin contact came Vicky's body rhythms; her heart rate, her brainwaves, everything working in the interlocking pattern that people called 'life'.

“I haven't been hurt like that since I got my powers,” Vicky began, as if continuing a conversation. “And I haven't seen you hurt like that in a while, too.”

Amy felt her own heart rate pick up a notch, at the skin contact.

Ahem.

I can't help it, okay? Now shush.

“We just got unlucky,” Amy told her. “It happens. Tattletale figured out your weakness. She's good at figuring stuff out. But she didn't want to hurt you badly, or kill you.”

“Seriously?” Vicky asked her. “Could've fooled me.” Amy couldn't see her grimace – all she could see was a vague shape in the dimness – but she knew which muscles were tensing and which were relaxing, and she picked up the changes of brain chemistry which spelled out 'disgust'. “Those bugs were … well, 'creepy' was the nicest thing I could say about them. And what if I'd been allergic?”

“Well, you had me there,” Amy replied reasonably. “If you were in distress, I would've healed you anyway, headache or no headache.”

Would you really have? Even with me in the driver's seat?

Of course. This is Vicky. If it came down to saving her life, yeah, I would've chanced it.

“Still, it was a pretty dick move,” Vicky stated.

“She could have just shot you twice,” Amy pointed out. “Or three or four times. I would've definitely have had to heal you on the spot then. If she didn't shoot to kill, that is.”

"I guess," mumbled Glory Girl. "I just don't like feeling that vulnerable."

Welcome to the rest of the human race, kid.

That's a little bit mean, isn't it?

Hey, she might just learn to be a better hero from this. See what it's like for the poor bastards who can't bounce bullets.

Amy squeezed her sister's hand. "You know, some of us feel like that all the time."

Vicky's brain chemistry shifted; Amy automatically read the change as 'contrition'. "Oh shit. I didn't mean it like that."

"That's okay, sis," Amy assured her. "I'm used to being the squishy one here." Her tone became contemplative. "I guess I really shouldn't have tried to play the hero."

"Well, duh," agreed Vicky, her demeanour becoming more cheerful. "Any course of action that ends you up with a knife at your throat is generally a bad course of action."

"I don't think she really meant to hurt me," Amy pointed out before Michael could remind her.

"Ames, she had a knife at your throat," Vicky reminded her, in slow and patient tones. "I really think she did."

"No, but I pulled away from her," Amy pointed out. "She had to let me go, or she really would have cut my throat. And she could've, really easily. But she didn't."

"It was still a huge fucking risk," Vicky told her. "Why did you do it?"

"That Tattletale girl," Amy told her. "She was talking about my dad, remember? Either you locked yourself in the vault or she told me something worse than even that."

"And you were willing to risk a cut throat for that?" asked Vicky. "What the hell's worse than finding out that your dad's Marquis?"

Amy froze. What do I say to that?

Fuck. I have no idea. It never came up like this before.

Well, how did it come up?

Once, really badly. And once, after you'd been doing therapy for a while. That time came out a bit better.

“Ames? What's up?”

Therapy? Why was I taking therapy?

Because I told you to.

And did it help?

You were smiling a lot more, so I guess so.

“I, uh, can we talk about this another time?” Amy asked, feeling trapped.

“When?” asked Vicky. “It's obviously a private thing, and I can't see you wanting to talk about it in front of Mom and Dad. You didn't talk to them about it, so it's not something they know. And any other time we're out and about together. When's a better time than right now?”

Shit.

No kidding. She's smarter than people think.

What am I gonna do?

Well, outside of using your powers on your sister, which might be a little extreme -

Amy was shocked at the very idea. Well, no shit! I'd never do something like that to Vicky!

- your three options are to lie your head off, say nothing … or tell the truth. But if you take the last one, for fuck's sake, leave the aura out of it.

Why?

No time to explain. Just trust me on this one.

Okay, fine. She took a deep breath. I hate lying to her, and she's not gonna leave this alone.

Oh god. Good luck. Please don't fuck this up.

Thanks, I think.

“Ames?” asked Vicky. “Talk to me, please.”

“Okay,” Amy replied. “I'll tell you what's going on. But I don't think you're going to like it a whole lot.”

Vicky shook her head; in the darkness, Amy could hear her hair swishing back and forth. There was a fond smile in her voice – and on her face – when she replied. “Seriously, Amy, the last time I was actually angry with you was when you messed up my fifth grade class presentation.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “I said I was sorry. I was trying to help.”

Vicky chuckled. “I know. Which is why I forgave you about an hour later.” Her free hand came out, smoothed Amy's hair back from her face. “So give. Whatever it is, we can deal.”

Amy took another deep breath; the lingering feeling of Vicky's fingertips on her cheek was not helping her composure any. A mental image came to her; an older man, dressed in some sort of uniform, heavy set, bearded, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. She almost giggled, but calmed herself instead.

“Vicky … you know how you keep setting me up with boys, but I don't like any of them?”

Muscular contraction and relaxation told Amy that Vicky was rolling her eyes. “Yeah, picky much? We've still got that double date with -”

Amy shook her head, then recalled that Vicky couldn't see her. “No. I'm not going. Vicky, I don't like those boys. Any of them.”

“But you haven't met this one -”

“Vicky.” Amy tried again. “I don't like boys. I'm not interested in them.”

“Oh?” Vicky seemed vaguely puzzled. “Oh.” That was a sound of realisation. “Oh.” And finally, the penny dropped. “Oh, you're gay. Why didn't you tell me? We could have sorted something out. I know a guy, his sister's your age, she's kind of interested in girls too -”

Okay, that's a start. Michael's voice was tense. Can we leave it there?

I'd love to, but Vicky'll see through that bit. She'll want to know why it's such a huge secret. Wow, Panacea's gay. Big deal. It 's not like people care any more.

“No, Vicky,” she pressed on. “I'm not interested in 'girls' either.”

Puzzlement entered Vicky's voice. “But if you're not interested in boys, and you're not interested in girls, then what … ?”

There was a snort of amusement within her mind. Many options. Most of them illegal.

Shush. Aloud, she went on, before her nerve could fail. “You.”

There was a long, long silence. Amy could hear the chirping of night insects outside her window; there didn't seem to be any great concentration of them -

- but Taylor could tell them not to chirp if she didn't want them to.

Michael, what if she hates me now? She hasn't said anything.

What do your powers say?

Amy was shocked; she had been so wrought up that she had totally tuned out what her powers were reporting via Vicky's body. This was the first time that had happened in … forever. She looked for anger, disgust, repulsion … and didn't find it.

“Ames.” Vicky's brain showed a trace of confusion, then embarrassment, blending into understanding and then compassion. “How long … ?”

Amy sighed. “Ever since … “ Time to shade the truth just a little. “ … ever since I started developing, I guess. Started being able to feel that way. I mean, you're my best friend, I've always loved you, it's just that now I love you a little more … “

“Amy.” Vicky was shaking her head again. “We can't do this. We can never do this. I'm straight. And you're my sister.” Through the link, there was sorrow and regret.

“Adopted.” Amy didn't even really mean to say the word out loud. “But yeah, I know. You're straight. It's not going to happen.” She tried to keep the pain out of her voice, and did not totally succeed.

“Shit.” Vicky's voice was filled with emotion; Amy felt, for the first time, loathing in her brain chemistry. Oh god, I've made her hate me.

No.Michael's voice calmed her. It's not you. It's herself. She's upset with herself.

How do you know that?

An impression of a grin. Life experience, kiddo. Talk to her.

“Vicky … ?”

Her sister was crying silently; Amy could feel her tear ducts working. “So sorry, Amy. I am so goddamn sorry. Every time I undressed in front of you, or hugged you or kissed you, I was sending you mixed messages. All this time, you must have thought I was the most godawful tease.”

Amy had to chuckle. “You are the most godawful tease. Wearing a short skirt, with pants underneath? As a flier?”

Vicky sniffled, but stopped crying. “You're making fun of me.”

“No.” Amy reconsidered. “Well, maybe just a little. But it's all right.” She squeezed Vicky's hand. “I've been carrying this load around for way too long. It's a relief to be able to share it, just a little bit.”

“But you're still … attracted to me. In love with me, whatever.”

Amy sighed. “Yeah. Still am.”

“And every time I showed off my new underwear, or got changed in front of you, or we swapped out in the shower, you were checking me out, weren't you?”

A blush started creeping over Amy's cheeks. She was tempted to lie, but Michael's silent presence urged honesty. “I … yeah, I guess so.”

Another eye-roll. “Figures.” A pause. “Hey!”

Amy was a little startled. “Hey, what?”

“If you're holding my hand like this, you can read my whole body, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” Amy frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“So you can see the shape of my body with your power. So you're kinda checking me out right now.”

Amy had to chuckle. “Heh, no. My power doesn't give me a three-dimensional image of your body. It just tells me how it's working, down to the most minor detail. I'd need a whole new set of kinks to find that sexy.”

“Or you could be just, you know, lying. So I would keep holding your hand while you got a load of my bod.” Vicky's tone was light, bantering.

Amy shook her head in the darkness. “Not lying. You deserve the truth about this.”

“So you're not going to lie about this at all?” Amy detected mischief in her sister's brain, as well as her voice.

Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?

Not entirely sure. I'm just hoping she doesn't ask what I think she's going to ask.

What's that?

Better you don't know. She's waiting for an answer.

“I, uh, yeah. Total honesty, all the way.” Amy waited for Vicky's reply.

It wasn't long in coming. “So,” her sister murmured, “have you ever had, uh, fantasies … ?” As far as Amy could tell, she was asking the question from morbid curiosity, as opposed to actually reciprocating Amy's feelings.

Oh god, she asked it.

Fuck. I said I'd be honest.

I'm presuming you have.

Well, in my place, wouldn't you?

I reserve the right to not self-incriminate.

Hah. And thank you for showing me how to answer. She took a deep breath. “Vicky, if I answer one way, I'm going to be horribly embarrassed. If I answer the other way, you'll know I'm lying my ass off. So can we just accept that we both know what the answer is, and drop this subject? For all time?”

“Hm.” Vicky seemed to be thinking this over. “Can I tease you again later?”

“Only if you catch me checking you out later.”

A shrug that made the bed shake slightly. “Okay, deal. And I'll stop giving you mixed messages. Okay?”

“I … yeah, okay. I appreciate it.” She paused. “You know, like sneaking into my room late at night and climbing into bed with me.”

“I haven't done that for at least -”

“- two years, four months, one week and three days,” Amy recited promptly. “After you got your costume and went out for the first time. You were so excited that you couldn't sleep, and you actually wore your costume to bed. My bed, as it turned out.”

“Wow.” Amy could feel Vicky trying to look at her in the darkness, her eyes searching. “You remember that, then.”

Amy felt herself blushing. “Vividly.”

“Oh.” Vicky seemed to be lost for words. “Well. I … uh, kinda forgot why I even came in here.”

Shit, I have too.

Talking about the bank robbery.

Oh, thanks. “We were talking about the bank robbery.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Okay, I guess you're right. It wasn't as bad as it could've been. They could have hurt us a lot worse than they did. Though hitting you on the head was a bit risky. That could have killed you.”

“Don't remind me,” Amy retorted. “My head still hurts. Not badly,” she added hastily. “Just, you know, bump-on-the-head hurt. You know what that's like. You got a few bumps playing basketball.”

“Nothing that knocked me out,” Vicky pointed out.

Amy conceded the point. “But I'm not nauseous, I don't have double vision, none of the signs of concussion.”

How about hearing voices in your head?

Oh, shut up.

“Yeah, but I still worry about you, Ames. You know that.”

"And I love you for it."

Amy didn't realise what she'd said for a moment, until Michael did a very realistic throat-clearing noise inside her mind. "Oh, uh, you know, appreciate," she added hastily. "The other kind of love." She felt herself starting to blush, all over again.

"You know," Vicky observed, "I was looking forward to teasing you about this. But you're doing a better job than I ever could." She was amused, Amy could tell.

She's right. You are.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered. And that goes for you too.

Look on the bright side. She's not mad at you.

"Okay, fine," Vicky replied, still sounding amused. "You've given me a lot to think about, so I'll be going to bed." She paused for a beat. "My own bed, just so there's no misunderstanding."

"Night, Vicky." Amy let her sister's fingers go, and the awareness of Vicky's body vanished from her powers.

Vick got up and moved to the door, then paused. "So am I still flying you in to school in the morning, Ames?"

"Oh, uh, if you're fine with it?" returned Amy. "Knowing I've got feelings for you and all?” She cleared her throat. “How come you're so cool with this, anyway? I would've thought you'd be more upset about it.”

Vicky snorted. "I'm kind of used to it. About ninety percent of the boys in Arcadia have 'feelings' for me, and more than a few of the girls. If that sort of thing squicked me out, I'd never leave my room. I mean, yeah, it's a bit of a surprise, finding out that you've got the hots for me too, but it's not something I haven't had to deal with before. Just so long as you don't try to break up me and Dean – oh god.” She paused. “So that's what that was all about.”

“What was?” Amy thought she knew, but asked anyway.

"We were talking about you awhile ago, and he got kind of evasive."

“Yeah,” sighed Amy. “I ... I don't like him. The fact that he's with you. He more or less let me know that he knows about that, today.”

“Shit. And you see us together all the time.” Vicky's voice was that of someone undergoing a revelation, or seeing something in a new light.

“Yeah,” Amy replied again. “Please don't tell him that you know? I don't want things to be even more awkward between us than they already are.”

Vicky paused for a moment. "Okay, Ames. If that's what you want.” She went to open the door.

Amy got up on one elbow, and spoke before she could think too hard about it. “Vicky? I'm sorry. To put this on you.”

“Hey.” Vicky's voice was warm and understanding. “This shit happens, okay? You can't control who your body thinks it likes. We can work through this, now that we both know about it. You okay with that?”

Amy sighed. “Yeah, I'm good with it.”

"Good," Vicky told her. "See you in the morning. Good talk, Ames." She opened the door, allowing the dim hall lighting to spill into the room momentarily, and slipped out. The door clicked shut behind her.

Amy lay back, letting out a long sigh. Well, now I'm exhausted.

Michael echoed her sigh, silently. Yeah. That went off a hell of a lot better than it had any right to.

Okay, tell me.

Tell you what?

About the time it went badly.

There was a pause. Do you really want to know? Because I'm not kidding when I say 'badly'.

Amy swallowed, and steeled herself. Yeah, I want to know. So I know what to avoid.

Okay, for a bit of context; New Wave had attended an Endbringer battle. Mark had brain damage. You hadn't fixed it, because you don't want people knowing you can do brains.

Oh god.

Carol was at you to try anyway; Vicky was upset with you because she knows you can do brains, but choose not to. But you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. Way too much stress on you.

If I fixed him, everyone would know. If I didn't … oh god.

Yeah. Then the Nine came to town. Bonesaw had a robo-spider inject acid into his brain. You had to fix him – right then, right there – or watch him die horribly.

Amy was shocked. But why?

Because she wanted you to use your full potential. And join the Nine. To be her big sister.

Her eyes wide, Amy started at the darkness. Oh god. And she thought I was Nine material.

Well, she was wrong. But. You fixed Mark, and he drove her off.

I didn't really have a choice, did I?

Not really, no. Not and stay sane. Bonesaw had you in a no-win situation.

So what happened then?

Well, you'd just learned a little while previously that your dad was Marquis. There was a letter from him to Carol that you found. So that was on your mind too. You basically decided that you'd betrayed everyone by refusing to fix Mark earlier, so you grabbed some stuff and bolted.

But that's not the end of it, is it?

No. Vicky found you.

What did I do?

Okay, understand that you were at the end of your rope. Other bad stuff had happened. Gallant had died fighting Leviathan. You'd been just a little bit secretly glad, because that let you get closer to Vicky. You had the Mark thing, and the Marquis thing, and Carol wasn't letting up on you. When Vicky came to you, she asked you to go home.

And I refused.

Yeah. She wanted to hug you, and you told her to not touch you. Because you'd just broken your own rules, and it had been so easy.

Amy could see where this was going. And she did it anyway. Because Vicky. Because she trusts me not to use my powers on her.

Yeah. So you broke, right then. Because you wanted so much for her to be with you. And you changed her brain, just a little. So she'd feel the same way about you as you do about her.

Fuck.

He didn't answer. She didn't wait for one.

Fuck. No. No, I would not do that shit to Vicky.

Amy -

No. No, fuck you. I would not do that fucking shit to my own fucking sister. I. Would. Not.

Amy -

No, that's it. I'm done. I don't believe it. I wouldn't do it. No fucking way.

I believe you.

… what.

I believe you. You wouldn't do it.

But you just said -

The Amy who did that is not the Amy that you are now. You're in a much better place. You've faced some of your issues, and you don't have the pressures on you that the other you did, in the other place and time. You, here and now, would not do it.

His words, measured and reassuring, cut through her anger.

So you're not telling me that I'm going to do it?

Nope. In fact, all this stuff I'm telling you? It's so you don't do it.

… oh. Uh, sorry.

For what?

Yelling at you.

A snort of amusement. Heh. No worries. You want to hear how it ends, or will you take my word that it gets worse?

I … I want to know, but not right now, okay? Maybe later?

There was the suggestion of a hug. Sure. Any time.

Thanks.

For what?

Walking me through this. Being there. Helping me.

It's what I'm here for, near as I can tell.

Huh?

Helping you, and a lot of others, to avoid the shit that's coming down the line.

That sounds ominous.

Oh, trust me, ominous is only the start.

But you can help us through it?

I can only try. And I will try. Every step of the way, I'll be with you.

Amy didn't answer; she smiled, knowing that he felt it, and rolled over in bed.

<><>​

Amy! AMY!

Huh? What? Amy blinked her way awake. She was already standing up, with her shoes on. Half a dozen fireflies were orbiting her head.

Taylor's outside, with the others. Time to go.

Wow, was I asleep?

Just a little bit. There was amusement in his voice.

Were you sleepwalking me? Realisation shocked her fully awake. Wait, you can control my body while I'm asleep?

He sounded almost apologetic. It's more like, you sleep and I don't. I can already control your body while you're awake; I just don't lose that control when you go to sleep.

She tried to control her reaction to that revelation. That's got the potential for all sorts of creepiness.

I thought you'd already figured that out, when Regent tried to control your body.

I ... I guess. But I didn't think it applied when I was actually asleep. She paused. Wait, you don't sleep?

Not as such, apparently. I sat you up first, to see if that would wake you, but it didn't. I could have slapped you awake, but I didn't think you would appreciate that.

No. I would not. Thanks, I guess. She glanced at the clock. Eleven thirty, wow.

Yeah, I thought they'd come earlier. Maybe your parents stayed awake later than normal.

Talking about me, probably.

Do you blame them? You put the cat among the pigeons, earlier. And really, I think it's a good thing.

Softly treading over to the door, Amy turned the handle gently. As with the other times she had sneaked out to go to the hospital, it opened with barely a creak, barely a click. The fireflies had quit their circling, and had flown out the window.

A good thing? How so?

Well, for one thing, they'll stop taking you for granted. Stop looking at you in the same way.

Not sure if that's a good thing.

And what you had before was so great?

… okay, you have a point.

So engrossed was she with the internal conversation that she didn't notice the door opening behind her. Not until, that is, Vicky spoke.

“Amy!” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

Amy glanced back at her guiltily. “I … I'm going down for a cup of water,” she temporised. “Go back to bed.”

Instead, Vicky left her room and followed Amy down the passageway. “That isn't your pyjamas,” she murmured. “You're wearing shoes. Are you going to the hospital?”

Oh. shit.

Crap on a stick.

“Oh, uh -”

Vicky shook her head. “You're not going to the hospital. You'd be wearing your costume if you were.” She leaned closer to Amy. “Where are you going?”

What do I tell her?

Don't look at me. She's your sister. Way I see it, you've got three choices. Go back to bed, lie, or tell her the truth.

Fuck.

And do it now, before she wakes up your parents.

Amy made her decision, and drew a deep breath. “Okay … “


End of Part Nine



Part Ten

 

I, Panacea

Part Ten: Anger Management


“Okay … “ began Amy, with the feeling of stepping through an open door into a darkened space, which may or may not be an open elevator shaft. “Vicky, I need you to keep a secret for me.”

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Ames, what else are you gonna hang on me tonight?”

Amy inclined her head toward the stairs. “Come on, let's get downstairs before we wake up Carol and Mark. I'll tell you there. But you gotta promise not to freak.”

Vicky's eyebrows drew down in what Amy knew to be her 'worried' face. “Seriously, just saying that is kind of freaking me out already.” But she followed on as Amy crept down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Amy turned to Vicky. “Okay. Now please, promise.”

Vicky nodded in the darkness. “I promise. I won't freak.”

Amy took a deep breath. “I'm going out to take down a supervillain.”

There was a long moment of utter silence; Amy fancied that she could hear the house settling around them. Then Vicky spoke, her voice a harsh hiss.

“Amy, geez! Come on! What the hell do you think you're doing? Especially after what happened today!”

“Vicky!” Amy protested, in the same hushed tone. “I know what I'm doing. I'm not going alone. I'm going with some others.”

Vicky blinked at her in the gloom. “What the fuck? Who's the supervillain? Who's going with you? And most importantly … “

She paused for effect.

“Why the fuck haven't you invited me along?”

What?

Oh, shit. I should have realised. Vicky's gonna want in on this.

She's gonna go nuts when she realises who's coming with me.

So break it to her. Really gently. If you can.

Amy breathed deeply again. “Vicky. Before I even let you in on this, you've got to promise that you won't do anything to screw the mission. Anything. At all. If you have a problem, talk to me before going off the rails.” She hardened her tone as much as she could. “I mean it.”

“Wow, geez, secrecy much, Ames?” asked Vicky.

Amy nodded her head vigorously. “Yes. Totally. And these are people you're not going to want to work with. But this mission has to go through.”

“Mission against who?” asked Vicky.

She had to tell Vicky sooner or later. “You've heard of Coil, right?”

“Yeah, I've heard of him. Small-time crime boss. What's he done that's got you sneaking out in the middle of the night?”

Amy drew a deep breath. “Kidnapped the Mayor's niece. We're going to rescue her and take him down.”

“Seriously?” Vicky seemed about to laugh, but she held back. “That's a Capes of Our Lives plot if I ever heard one.”

“Well, it's true. Her name's Dinah Alcott. But I don't have time to argue about it. Like I said, I'm working with some people that you're not going to enjoy associating with. So if you can't do it, can't suck it up, let me know and leave me to it. But with you or without you, I'm doing it.”

Vicky's eyes were almost glowing with her intensity. “I'm in. I don't care if it's Clockblocker teamed up with Shielder. There's no way in hell you get to pull a secret mission without me at your back.”

“Okay. Just so long as you remember that you promised,” Amy reminded her. She held up her hand, smallest finger crooked. Vicky hooked her own finger through it, completing the childish ritual.

“Pinky promise,” she assured Amy. “So let's go meet the rest of the team.”

Amy eyed her pyjamas. “Sure you're dressed for crimefighting?”

“Shit, hang on,” Vicky muttered. “I'll just go and change.”

“Not your costume,” Amy warned her. “Something dark.”

“Gotcha. Back in a sec.”

With a whoosh of air, Vicky was up the stairs, leaving Amy alone in the dark. Her heart was racing; she knew that the next few moments were going to decide the events of the rest of the night. Michael? How's she going to react?

I have no idea. She's your sister. How binding is that promise?

She's never broken it before.

Good. Let's hope that holds. Or maybe we could make a break for it, get away before she realises we've gone.

No way in hell. She'd catch us before we got two blocks.

You're right. I wish you weren't, but you are.

<><>​

Moments later, Vicky returned, drifting silently down the stairs; now she was a ghostly presence in the dimness, wearing a long sleeved sweater as well as dark jeans, and her long blonde hair was even tucked up under some sort of cap. Amy felt the presence behind her eyes scanning her sister from head to toe, then she realised that Michael was just making sure that she didn't have anything bright on her.

For a moment there, I thought you were checking her out.

Okay, young enough to be my daughter, all right? Also, not the time and place.

Amy's reply held a tinge of mischief. Aww, you're no fun.

Shush, you.

She became aware that Vicky was looking at her expectantly. “So where are these people you're working with, Ames?”

“Outside, waiting for us.” She eyed Vicky. “You know, last chance to go back to bed and pretend this is all a dream.”

Vicky shook her head. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Okay then.” Leading the way to the front door, she unlocked it and carefully pulled it open. She had done this enough times to be familiar with it, though this time the long walk to the hospital did not lie before her. Vicky followed her as she stepped out through the door. Almost immediately, Amy spotted the newcomers waiting on the front lawn.

Despite the glare from a street light painting the scene a washed-out yellow, darkness slid away from Grue, roiling across the ground, hiding everything from the knees down. In contrast, Skitter stood in a shadow of her own making, cast by the thousands of bugs orbiting her. Bitch stood foursquare, arms folded, her dogs bulking menacingly behind her. Only Tattletale and Regent didn't seem to ooze menace and intimidation; the latter stood alongside Grue, while the former stepped forward with that cheeky grin plastered across her face.

Behind her, Amy sensed Vicky coming to a complete halt. She stopped and turned. Frozen in the act of pulling the door to, her sister was staring at the arrayed supervillains before them.

“Vicky … “

Vicky grabbed her shoulder. “Get behind me, Ames.” Her voice was low and controlled. “Back into the house. Wake Mom and Dad. Now.”

“Vicky, no!” hissed Amy.

“What? Go! I'll hold them off!”

Amy shook her head desperately. “No! They're the people I'm working with!”

A long, frozen moment. Vicky stared at her, then at the arrayed villains. “No. I refuse to believe this. Not this. No fucking way.”

“Vicky. You promised not to freak. Listen to me. Please.”

“Y'know,” commented Tattletale, “if we were here to be hostile, we could've attacked by now. Amy's telling the truth. She's working with us.”

Vicky stared at her, then at Amy, her mouth dropping open. “Fuck, what's happened to you? What's going on? What sort of hold do they have over you?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “They don't have a hold over me. I went to them.”

Vicky looked as though she were having trouble processing this. “What? When? Why?”

“Look,” Tattletale told her briskly. “Our boss ordered us to do that bank job. We didn't know that it was a diversion so he could kidnap the kid. Amy came to us, told us a whole heap of stuff, convinced us it was the right thing to do.”

“Convinced you, maybe,” muttered Regent, clearly audible to Amy.

“Shut up, Regent,” Grue told him quellingly.

“So, just because you find out your crime's a cover for another crime, you've decided to go straight?” asked Vicky disbelievingly. “That's bullshit. I don't buy it.”

“If it was as simple as that, sure,” Tattletale agreed. “It would be bullshit. But there's more to it than that. He's an asshole. The type of guy who gives supervillains a bad name. The girl he kidnapped? She's a precog, a powerful one. He's gonna be drugging her, using her as a slave so that he's got full access to her power no matter what she wants.”

“So wow,” sneered Vicky. “You find out that your criminal boss is an asshole, and now you want amnesty? Sorry, it doesn't work that way.”

“No,” Amy told her. “They just want to help me take him down.” She searched for a way to convince Vicky of her reasoning, had an inspiration. “Thing of it like our own personal Endbringer truce.”

Vicky gave her a long, searching look. “ … okay, fine,” she admitted. “I can see that.” She hooked her thumb at the assembled teen villains. “But what do they get out of it?”

“Not working for an asshole, for one,” Tattletale put in. “Also, it's possible to be a villain and have scruples.”

Vicky moved away from Amy, stepped up to the other blonde, looked her in the eye. “Really,” she replied flatly.

“Really,” Tattletale agreed. “I only joined his organisation because there was a gun at my head. Imagine how that makes me feel.”

“And I never knew he was going to be kidnapping kids,” put in Skitter. “I'm not standing for that.”

Vicky looked at them both for a long moment, then turned back to Amy. “So where do you come in? How come you're joining them on this? When did you even arrange this?” She paused. “This afternoon. When you went out. How did you even know where to find them?”

Amy took a deep breath. “That's a really long and complicated explanation. One that we don't have time to get into now. Just … what we're saying is true. We need to take him down, tonight, and rescue Dinah, before he gets her addicted and working for him. So if you're going to help us, help us. If you're not, then please don't tell anyone.”

Vicky shook her head. “Fuck, Ames. I was never not going to help you. I just didn't know it was going to involve supervillains.”

Amy went to speak, but her voice didn't work.

Michael?

Shh. Let her work through it.

Oh, okay.

Tattletale waited, watching Vicky expectantly; Regent fidgeted. Skitter's swarm buzzed sullenly. Bitch waited, a glowering presence. Grue could have been a statue carved from obsidian; his darkness still flowed over the ground, almost like a living thing. The massive dogs panted silently, the puffs of steam from their nostrils highlighted by the street lamp.

Vicky raised her chin. “Okay, fine. Truce. I'll work with you to take Coil down, this one time. But after it's all over and done? I see you, I'll smack you down.” She pointed at Tattletale. “Especially you.”

Tattletale's grin widened slightly; Amy could tell that she was about to say something. Something that might just set Vicky off. “Okay, that's settled,” she interjected hurriedly. “So, can we go?”

“Yeah,” Grue agreed, his voice hollow and more than a little creepy. “Let's get on with this.”

<><>​

It was a dark night, and there were very few cars on the road; the Undersiders galloped their oversized canine mounts down the middle of the street, with Vicky flying Amy above and beside them. The only sounds came from the huffing of the great beasts and the impacts of their paws on the road surface, so it was relatively easy to maintain a conversation.

“So where are we going?” asked Vicky.

“Coil's base,” explained Tattletale.

Vicky waited, but the blonde supervillain obviously wasn't interested in explaining further. “And what're we going to do once we get there?” she asked, biting the words off.

“We're waiting for a little bit, then busting in,” Tattletale told her with some relish. “You've got a job elsewhere first.”

“She does?” asked Amy.

Remember the plan? We were going to send Bitch. Vicky can get there quicker.

Oh, right. Amy paused, thinking. This actually makes the plan easier, doesn't it?

That's the idea.

“Wait,” Vicky objected. “Where am I going?”

Tattletale grinned. “To break and enter the house of a PRT strike squad leader, and beat him up if he's there.”

“Wait, what?” Vicky stared at her. “Okay, now you're just fucking with me.”

Amy shook her head. “She's really not. This is Coil's secret identity. You've got to bust in there, grab him, and beat him up. Hard. Let him know that you know who he is.”

“Wait, wait,” Vicky objected. “Coil's a PRT squad leader? Do you have any idea how unlikely this sounds?”

“It is what it is,” Tattletale informed her blithely. “Getting cold feet?”

Vicky swooped down in front of the dogs and dropped to the ground, forcing them to stop or hit her. “No, but this stinks more every second. You assholes somehow convince my sister to come out with you to take down Coil, and now you're saying that this bastard's secretly a PRT officer? Shit, even if I believed you, that's a breakage of the unwritten rules, right there.”

“Coil doesn't care about the unwritten rules,” Amy pointed out, wriggling out of Vicky's grasp until she was standing on the ground. “He's got information on nearly every cape in Brockton Bay that they don't know about, and he'll use it to hurt us all if he has to.”

“Yeah, I find that hard to believe, too,” Vicky retorted. “Ames, I have no idea how they managed to get you to believe all that shit, but this ends now. I'm -”

“They didn't tell me,” Amy told her desperately. “I told them.”

Vicky frowned. “And where the hell did you get all this stuff from?”

Amy hesitated. Michael?

Yeah?

I'm going to have to tell her.

Ah crap.

Please?

An impression of a nod, and a sensation of resignation. Okay. Let's see how this pans out.

Thanks.

Vicky was still waiting for an answer. “Ames?”

Amy took a deep breath. “Uh, you know when I got knocked out in the bank?”

Vicky nodded, scowling at Skitter. The bug controller didn't show any emotion in return. “Not like I can actually forget.”

“Right, yeah, well, when I woke up, there was someone else in my head.”

Vicky's attention swivelled to focus on Regent. “You.”

Amy shook her head quickly. “No, not him. Besides, he takes hours to get a proper hold on someone. It's someone else. From elsewhere. He's not a bad guy. He's been telling me stuff, helping me out. He's the one who told me about Marquis.”

Vicky's face held an expression of deep suspicion. “If he's controlling you -”

“He's not,” Amy told her hastily. “He could, but he's not. But it's why I've been acting a bit strange now and again.”

“Strange or not, I don't want him in your head. Tell him to get the hell out, now.”

Amy shook her head. “It doesn't work like that. He doesn't want to be here either. But he's got a job to do, and until it's done, he's stuck here. As far as I understand things, anyway.”

Vicky frowned. “What the fuck? What job?”

Amy shrugged, very slightly. “As far as I can tell, he's here to save the world.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Vicky growled, rolling her eyes. “Let me talk to this jerk myself.”

Michael, you're up.

Fuckin' yay.

Amy felt herself draw a breath, then she gave Vicky a nod. “Victoria Dallon,” her mouth stated.

“And who the fuck are you?” demanded Vicky.

“Michael Allen, at your service,” Amy heard herself say. “Once upon a time, I called myself Security. Not that you'll know either name.”

“Never heard of you,” confirmed Vicky. “What the fuck are you doing inside my sister?”

She must have realised what she'd said only after the words passed her lips; Tattletale's smirk widened slightly, Grue may have snorted inside his helmet, and Regent snickered.

Amy's expression didn't change at all. “I'm going to presume you didn't mean that to sound quite that way. What I'm doing here is that I ended up in your sister's head through no intent of my own. I'm not a hundred percent on what actually placed me here, though I have my suspicions. But like she said, I strongly suspect that my job here is to save the world, and just to make that job so much fuckin' easier, I've got to do it as the voice in the head of a traumatised sixteen year old girl. Joy.”

Mentally, Amy winced at the biting sarcasm that came out in the last sentence.

Michael, am I really … that traumatised?

Trust me, kiddo. Nine out of ten people in this shitty old world of yours is walking wounded. You're hurting and you don't even know it. I'm just trying not to make it worse.

Accompanying the words was a fleeting sensation, as of a hug. Obscurely, she felt comforted. Thanks.

You're welcome.

“Wait, seriously, so that's it?” demanded Vicky. “That's all the explanation you're going to give me?”

“Vicky,” Amy's voice told her patiently. “You're the one who wanted to come along on this expedition. Now, I've given Amy and the Undersiders all the information I can on how to take down Coil, and why it should be tonight. I'd much rather leave her out of all this, but I can't very well do that when she's all the mobility I've got at the moment. So do me a favour. Either come along and give us a hand, or back off and leave us to get on with it.”

“Or I could just fly Amy back home,” Vicky countered. “Wake up Mom and Dad, let them know what's going on.”

Shit. She could too.

Michael, let me talk.

Amy felt control returning to her. Okay, go for it.

Thanks. “Vicky, no, don't, please,” she urged her sister. “It's me, Amy. What Michael is telling you is the absolute truth. And you promised not to pull this exact shit on me.”

Vicky hesitated. “Shit. No, the promise doesn't count. I didn't know -”

“Like hell it doesn't count,” Amy retorted. “Have I ever broken a promise I made to you? Even if I didn't know all of what was going on, or if I'd get in trouble?”

“But this is more important -” began Vicky.

“No, it's not,” argued Amy. “There's a twelve year old girl who's currently being addicted to drugs right now by a man who doesn't care at all about her, except that she's got a power he can make use of. That man is willing to make use of his authority as a PRT squad leader to cover up what he does as a criminal.”

Well, I don't know that he does -

Would he? If he had to?

Shit, yeah. In a heartbeat.

Well then.

“And you know this for a fact?” Vicky asked reluctantly.

“Michael does,” Amy informed her. “And he told me, and the Undersiders, stuff that no-one should be able to know. Stuff that convinced them to turn against their boss.”

“So tell the PRT,” Vicky suggested. “Put it out there. Let them know about it.”

Tattletale slid down off the dog she had been sitting on. Turning to face Vicky, she shook her head. “No can do. Absolute best case scenario is that he disappears with her. Anything slightly less than best case? We each end up face down in a back alley with a nine-millimetre lobotomy. Because he can find us, and he can make sure that we die, and he can get away with it.”

Vicky frowned. “Fuck.” She stared at Amy. “You're certain of this.”

Amy nodded. “Absolutely. I believe Michael implicitly.”

The blonde hero grimaced. “Fuck,” she muttered again. “Right. I said I'd back you up. Okay, fine. Who's this guy I'm supposed to beat shit out of?”

“His name is Thomas Calvert,” Amy supplied. “Did you bring your phone?”

Vicky nodded. “I did,” she confirmed, pulling it out.

“Texting you the address now,” Tattletale told her, tapping away on her own phone.

“Wait a minute,” Vicky protested as her phone chimed. “I never gave you my number.”

Tattletale grinned. “No, you didn't, did you?”

Vicky set her jaw and took a step toward Tattletale; Amy felt her aura flare. Gritting her teeth against it, she put a hand on her sister's shoulder. “Vicky, not the time. Please.”

Slowly, Vicky nodded. “Okay, fine. I'll go beat this guy up.” She took off straight up; her dark-clad form was quickly swallowed by the night.

“Well,” commented Regent quietly, “I never thought I'd meet someone who produces more testosterone than you do, Grue.”

“Fuck you, Regent,” Grue replied, just as quietly. “And keep a lid on comments like that. Both of you.”

Tattletale approached Amy. “You okay?” she asked the biokinetic, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Amy nodded. “Sorry about that. She caught me leaving the house.”

“Figured as much,” Tattletale told her. “Shit happens. Let's get closer to Coil's base. You can ride behind Skitter.”

<><>​

Amy was glad for the tough fabric of her jeans, because the rough back of the grotesquely oversized dog-thing was not conducive to ease of sitting. She hung on to bony spurs and hoped that her hips weren't about to dislocate, as they felt they might; the roadway blurred by below them, for all that the gigantic dog was merely lolloping along at a steady pace.

“Much further?” she asked Skitter.

The skinny bug controller shrugged. “I have no idea. I've never been there myself.”

“Oh, right. You said you'd only been working for him a short time.” She still had a hard time connecting Taylor with the creepy-looking girl with the flat yellow gaze.

“Yeah.” Skitter shrugged again. “When the heroes are dicks and the villains are actually nice to you, what are you gonna do?”

It wasn't something Amy had ever considered. She had been born into a family of superheroes, and Vicky had been cape-mad ever since she had known what capes were. Even when she got her powers, it had never been a matter of doubt as to what she was going to do with them. The decision had been made for her, it seemed, and she had never been able to find a good enough reason to overturn it.

Maybe I should have put my foot down. Maybe I should have asserted myself a little more.

Not sure if it would've done any good. You had constant pressure from Carol to be good or else, and from Vicky, expecting you to be a hero.

Well, I doubt that I would've become a villain.

So you reckon maybe just a healer for hire?

I don't know. Amy thought about that. I'd probably have just as much pressure on me as I do now.

Heh, no. He sounded amused. You know what the great thing about having sole access to a very rare, very in-demand commodity is?

Amy frowned. What?

Being able to set your own price. Also, your own working hours.

She felt somewhat disquieted. That makes me feel … cheapened.

Hell no. Expensive. Very expensive. Also, set a limit on how many people you see a day, and tell the ones who can be dealt with by doctors to see a damn doctor!

She blinked at his vehemence. Are you actually saying that's what I should do?

Nope. Not gonna tell you what to do. Just telling you what you can do, if you feel like it. You don't have to be a hero. You're under no obligation to keep putting yourself out there.

Amy was still trying to get her head around that when her phone rang.

<><>​

Vicky hovered in the air near the house. It was a typical suburban cookie-cutter dwelling, the same as every other house near it. Tapping in Amy's number from memory, she dialled.

“Vicky? What's up?”

She wasted no time on pleasantries. “Look, are you sure of your information? I do this, there's all sorts of consequences if I'm wrong.”

“Vicky, I told you. He's a supervillain. Plus, Michael tells me that his power lets him think he can get away with anything. Especially with female capes that he's captured.”

She felt a chill of rage go down her spine. “You mean he -”

“I mean exactly that, yeah.” Amy's voice was equally cold. “And he's got a way of making sure that no-one ever finds out.”

“Shit. Right. Okay.” Vicky eyed the house. “So I bust in, grab him, beat him up.”

“Yes,” Amy told her. “Make sure he knows why you're doing it. Break a few bones. I'll fix any permanent damage.” She paused. “You are at the right place.” It wasn't a question.

“Checked it three times.” She took a deep breath. “Okay then. I'll call back when I'm done.”

“Okay. Kick ass.”

“Always do.” Ending the call, she slid the phone into her pocket. Momentarily, she considered walking up the front path and kicking in the front door, then she shrugged. Lining up, she accelerated at the front wall of the house.

If something's worth doing, it's worth doing properly.

<><>​

Coil's head came up as he sat at the computer console. In the other timeline, he had been awoken by a tremendous crash, as of the house coming down around his ears. He blinked as he tried to figure out what was going on; at the same time, he picked up his phone and tapped in a query. The answer came back immediately; the alarm system in his house had been triggered.

Who's attacking me, and why?

His other self scrambled out of bed, switching on the light and reaching into the bedside drawer for a firearm. A surge of terror nearly disabled him, the weapon slipping from his nerveless fingers and clattering to the floor.

“Coil!” a feminine voice screamed. “Coil! I'm coming for you!”

Fuck, how did this get out? And who is this?

He forced himself to pick up the pistol; he was terrified, but he could still act. The very fact that he was terrified puzzled him; he had been in far worse situations. Are my emotions being affected from the outside?

Whatever it was, it didn't affect the version of him sitting in his base, of course, but it was affecting the combat capability of his other self. He only knew of one female emotion-altering cape in Brockton Bay. Why is Glory Girl attacking me in the middle of the night?

His bedroom door smashed off of its hinges, and a dark-clad figure lunged through. The accompanying wave of terror turned his guts to water and made him soil himself, but he still managed to get off a couple of shots. One hit, but the other missed; she didn't falter in the slightest.

Enough of her face was showing that he was sure it was indeed Victoria Dallon as she blurred across the room and smashed the gun from his hands; next, she grabbed him and threw him at the wall hard enough to crunch plaster. The plaster wasn't all that crunched, either; he felt his shoulder and some ribs go.

“Why are you doing this?” he pleaded as she grabbed him again.

“Shut up, you bastard,” she growled. “Thomas Calvert, aka Coil, I'm making a citizen's arrest.” She threw him across the room again, back at the bed. He felt more ribs go, and there was something wrong with his legs as he landed on the floor.

“You can stop … hitting me,” he grunted, racked with agony.

“Nope,” she replied. “I need to hit someone, and you're it.” She picked him up by the front of his pyjamas, just as he brought his hand up. Holding the pepper spray that had been on top of his nightstand.

He sprayed it liberally in her face, but of course she ignored it. Until he punched her solidly in the jaw. His fist stung, but she inhaled the cloud of spray, and doubled over, coughing and choking.

“Okay,” he growled, grabbing her by the throat. “Who sent you after me, and why?”

Too late, he saw her straighten up, resolve in her eyes. Too late, he saw her fist coming up. It smashed into him.

Blackness.

That timeline ended.

Coil sat back in his chair, confused. Splitting the timelines had been a regular precaution of his for years, and occasionally it had proven useful. This time, it had saved his life. He just didn't know why Victoria Dallon had burst into his house, out of costume, with the clear intent to maim or kill him. And the fact that she was still out there posed a clear and present threat to his safety.

He split the timeline. This required investigation.

<><>​

Amy's phone rang again. She answered it immediately. “Vicky?”

“Ames? You sure this is the right place?”

“Absolutely certain. Why?”

“Because I just busted the place up and there's no-one here. And now I hear sirens.”

“You'd better get out of there.”

“But I can't find him.”

“You won't. Trust me. I'll text you the address of where we are now.”

“I'm going to need some explanations.”

“You'll get it. Just don't get caught on site.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

Vicky hung up, and Amy sent the text, then put her phone away. Well, you were right.

It's what he does.

So if Coil wasn't there …

He's in his base. Vicky just flushed him there for us.

So why did we want him in the base and alert? Surely it would've been better if we separated him from his men.

He's got it wired to self destruct. And I don't trust him not to be able to do it remotely.

Oh. Oh yeah. Wow.

Yup.

At that moment, Tattletale's phone rang. She let it go for a moment, then picked it up. “Yeah?” she asked, yawning.

Amy didn't hear much of the conversation that followed, but it obviously had something to do with Glory Girl, and their encounter in the bank. Tattletale hung up just as Vicky came swooping in out of the darkness.

“Okay, someone please tell me why the fuck I just committed several felonies for no visible gain,” the blonde hero snapped.

“Long story short?” Tattletale grinned. “He's a precog who can experience two timelines at once. One timeline he's at home, the other he's in his base. He'll shut down whichever one he doesn't like.”

“So you sent me to his house, and in the other timeline I beat him up,” realised Vicky. “How do we know it even worked?”

“Because he wasn't there,” Amy supplied. “So we're in the timeline where he's in his base.”

Vicky nodded slowly. “I've heard weirder things. So what do we do now?”

“Simple,” Tattletale told her. “We go kick his ass.”


End of Part Ten

Part Eleven

 

I, Panacea

Part Eleven: Stations of Canon


Wait.

What?

I said wait. There was something else that you needed to do before we go in.

What's that?

Bugs. Lots of bugs.

But Taylor – I mean Skitter – already has a swarm with her.

Remember what I told you on the bus? The sorts of bugs you can make?

I … I've never done that sort of thing before.

Actually, yes, you have. I saw you do it. It just wasn't you, that time.

… that doesn't actually make any sense. Although she knew it did, in a really weird way.

There was a sigh inside Amy's head. So tell me what part of this does.

… you have a good point.

She heard Vicky clearing her throat, and looked up guiltily. “Sorry, what?”

“I was just asking you if you're ready to rock and roll,” Vicky told her. “You were a million miles away.”

“I, uh, just thought of something I had to do,” Amy replied. She looked toward Skitter. “What sort of bugs do you have here?”

'Here' was a shadowed alleyway just across the road from a construction site. Amy wasn't sure why they were here, but this was where Lisa had led them to.

“Uh, hornets, honeybees, wasps, brown recluses, black widows, fire ants -”

Amy cut her off. “I'll need some beetles and hornets.”

“How many?”

She pushed her sleeves up. “As many as you can give me. Land them on my arms and hands.”

Tattletale suddenly looked very intent. “He's told you something, hasn't he?”

“'He'?” asked Glory Girl. “Wh- oh, right. The guy in your head, right?"

Amy nodded. “Yeah."

"This is still very weird, and not a little creepy," Vicky decided. "What's he told you?"

"Stuff," Amy replied. "Lots of important stuff." Already, beetles of all sizes were descending upon her upturned arms and hands, interspersed with large hornets. She couldn't see them at all well – the alley was ill-lit – but as they touched her skin, she registered each and every one.

What should I make?

Think about what she's going to need them for. That should inform your choice.

Ah, right. She recalled which bugs he'd told her she could make. Visualising them, she could see the steps to making it work. Okay, yeah, I think I've got it.

Good. He paused. Now, I don't want to beat a dead horse, but you are okay with this, right? I get the impression you're still not so sure about helping supervillains.

Sure. I'll make the bugs but I'm taking away their ability to breed or eat, plus their aggressive instincts. I don't want Skitter to have them for too long.

That sounds fine. So long as they work here and now.

She frowned, wary at his easy acquiescence. You aren't going to give me a speech about how I should be more trusting?

Do you not actually trust her, or are you doing this to see how I react?

I – She paused. I guess it's a little bit of both?

How did you expect me to act?

To, I don't know, tell me that we don't have time for this crap, and remind me how well Taylor and I got along on the bus.

Listen, if you still don't trust her, if you don't trust the Undersiders, I can't make you trust them. It's as simple as that. You're still going through with this, and making the bugs. So long as you're comfortable with your motivations in the matter, I'm good with this.

And the bugs?

If you change your mind, you can always make more that can breed and eat – though I'd advise you to put the breeding function solely under Taylor's control. We don't want them escaping into the wild.

His reassurances steadied her. That's a good idea. She took a deep breath. Okay then. She began altering the hornets; it was only a small modification, and she finished with each one in seconds.

“What do they do?” asked Skitter quietly, and Amy jumped; the dark-clad girl had moved up right alongside her.

Amy explained briefly. “You can use them for -”

“Oh, I get it,” Skitter told her. “I definitely get it. Thanks – and thank him for me, too.”

She stepped back, almost merging with the shadows; the bugs that Amy had finished with were taking wing and flying over to her, landing on her and disappearing.

Are they in her hair?

And a compartment down her back, yeah.

Ew. I don't know if I could stand that.

She was kind of grossed about it at first, but got used to it.

Amy considered that. She takes a lot of this in her stride, doesn't she?

She's got what some would call a low-end power. She thinks a lot about how to leverage her ability. You just gave her some really, really good levers.

Am I going to regret this?

A lot less than you would have regretted certain other choices you're never going to make, now.

Amy let that slide; once she had finished with the hornets, she turned her attention to the beetles. Some of them she took apart with her power and merged together into larger specimens; then she started modifying these as well. It was an interesting modification, one that she wasn't sure she would have thought of on her own.

She was only a few moments into it when Grue cleared his throat; the sound was a hollow echo, the skull-detail of his visor seeming to hover in midair. “Just waiting around like this is a bad idea. If Coil has external security, or even just cameras -”

“He doesn't,” interrupted Tattletale. “Leave her be. What she's doing is going to increase our chances of success considerably.”

“You mean we didn't have a good chance of success before?” asked Regent sharply.

“It was good,” Tattletale told him. “Just not fantastic.” Her phone rang; she answered it, turning away down the alley for a little privacy.

Amy paid little attention, working on creating more useful bugs out of the ones that Taylor was landing on her arms. Michael said little; she got the impression that he was watching the process in sheer aesthetic fascination.

Tattletale returned. “We don't have much time,” she informed the group. “Coil's expecting me soon.”

Amy's head came up. “What? Why?”

“He wants to ask me about Glory Girl's attack on his house, and subtly question me to find out if I know anything about it,” was the candid reply. “After all,” she added, apparently addressing the next statement to Vicky, “you and I did have a conversation of sorts in the bank, and I have been known to be persuasive, from time to time.”

Vicky snorted. “Yeah, that'd happen.”

“How much time do we have?” That was Skitter, standing motionless, almost invisible in the dimness. The greys and blacks of her costume blended with the shadows, almost as well as Grue's did; the only thing that spoiled it was the yellow lenses of her mask, which tended to catch the light. In a way, they were even creepier than Grue's skull visor.

“Couple minutes,” Tattletale told her. “I didn't tell anyone because time wasn't of the essence. We were heading here, after all. But now it is. So I'm telling you.”

Amy concentrated, working on converting bugs while she spoke. “So the plan's still roughly the same?”

“Roughly, yes,” agreed Tattletale. “But now we've got a Glory Girl to hit things till they fall down.” From the tone of her voice, Amy just knew she was grinning that irritating grin.

“Yeah, well, right now I'm considering getting some practice in.” Vicky was already on edge; it didn't seem like it would take much to push her over the edge.

May I?

Feel free.

“Tattletale. Do us all a favour and don't irritate the Alexandria Junior.” Amy heard her own voice, with much more of a snap than she usually put into it. Tattletale paused and looked around; she obviously knew that Amy wasn't the one speaking. “And Glory Girl, don't let her get up your nose. You agreed to do this. You're a hero; act like it. There's a twelve year old girl to rescue, after all.”

Both girls looked at Amy, and shut up; Vicky stepped away from her aggressive stance and came to stand next to Amy.

“You're not normally like this, Ames,” she murmured. “Was that you, or -”

“Amy's busy,” Amy's mouth replied, just as quietly. “We do not need this distraction. Do your sister and yourself a favour and don't let Tattletale needle you. She does it for fun, you know.”

“Do we really need to work with these people?” demanded Vicky in a low tone. “They're villains!”

“Yes, they are, and yes, we do, unless we want Coil to become nigh untouchable, with a drug-addicted schoolgirl at his mercy,” Amy heard herself say. “Endbringer truce, remember?”

Vicky gave an aggravated sigh. “I wish you weren't so right.”

“I'm in,” announced Skitter suddenly.

“What?” asked Grue.

“I've found my way through the air vents. I'm getting my bugs inside right now.” To Amy's ear, Skitter sounded very pleased with herself.

“Firearms are priority,” Tattletale told her. “Security, how many men does he have?”

“About fifty,” Amy's voice replied. “Grue, you're going to need to use your fog once we're in there. They've got powerful laser mounts on their rifles. Skitter, once the attack starts, kill Coil's computer. Shut it down totally. We can extract the hard drive and access it later.”

“What – oh, self-destruct, right,” Tattletale noted.

“Found his barracks. Found his men. Found him. Found his computer.” Skitter paused. “Found the girl.”

“What sort of shape is she in?” asked Vicky sharply.

Skitter paused again. “I don't think she's conscious.”

“But alive?”

“Yeah, she's breathing.”

“Where is Coil, and what's he doing?” asked Tattletale.

“At his computer,” Skitter replied. “Looking at stuff. Talking on the phone. Don't know who, don't know what he's looking at. Bug senses are crap.”

“Let's go,” decided Tattletale.

Amy spoke up. “I haven't done all the bugs I need to do.”

“Make 'em on the move,” the blonde villain replied. “Much more of this and he's likely to try to get out of the base.”

I'll walk you. You concentrate on bugs.

Okay.

Gives a whole new meaning to walking on autopilot, doesn't it?

Oh, ha ha.

<><>​

Moving quickly and quietly, they crossed the road and entered the construction site. At an almost soundless whistle from Bitch, the dogs – gradually reducing in size, now that she wasn't exerting her power on them – followed along behind. Still converting bugs, with more arriving every second, and the finished ones flying off again, Amy found that she didn't have to pay any attention to walking at all; true to his word, Michael was handling that side of things.

There was a fence surrounding the main area, composed of conjoined panels bolted together; a chain, held together with a padlock, secured two panels, one of which was obviously intended to act as a gate.

Well, that's helpful.

Lisa's got a key.

Without much surprise, Amy saw that this was true; in the stillness, even over the sound of their feet crunching on gravel, she heard the click as the lock opened, then the rattle of the chain being pulled through the opening in the 'gate' panel. Of course she does. She eyed the skeletal building above, what she could see of it against the night sky. I'm guessing that Coil owns this construction site.

Pretty sure you're right. Don't forget, he owns Fortress Constructions.

But they … they build Endbringer shelters.

Indeed they do.

They save lives!

And make him squillions of dollars in the process, let's not forget.

Oh. Yeah. There is that.

Nothing wrong with a bad guy doing something good if he can also pull in an obscene profit in the process. Anyway, how do you think he managed to pull off a Bond-villain base under Brockton Bay?

… he had his own construction company build it.

Bingo.

And used his powers to choose the right timeline to ensure that no-one knew about it.

Handy, yeah?

I'll bet.

They were all inside the construction site by now. Lisa draped the chain back through the 'gate', then led the way to where Amy was waiting alongside a hatch cover; it had some sort of warning label on it, that wasn't really readable in the dim light.

“You've been here before, haven't you?” asked Lisa.

Amy's shoulders shrugged. “Once. But that time I had a bulletproof vest on, and I was being escorted by a PRT guy. Plus, we had Canary, as well as Protectorate and Wards with us.” She felt her head turn, as she looked at each of them. “We kicked the crap out of them that time, and hopefully the Travellers won't be in residence.” She paused. “Just remember, once we've got Dinah and dealt with Coil, we pull out as fast as we can, and we call in the PRT. And while we're in there, we don't make any noise we absolutely don't have to.”

“Because of the Case Fifty-Three in the vault, right?” Lisa's voice was chirpy. “You only gave us a few details before. Got any more?”

“Vault? Case Fifty-Three?” Vicky's voice was startled. “First I've heard of this.”

Oh crap, we didn't fill her in, did we?

Nope.

Amy found herself switching her gaze between Tattletale and Vicky. “Like I said, her name is Noelle Meinhardt. She's roughly the size of an elephant or two, and she eats anything that comes near her. Literally; she can absorb anything organic into her body, and once you're touching her, you lose control of your body. You don't come loose unless someone really strong is pulling hard. If it comes to a contest between Amy's powers and hers, Noelle wins. Worse; if she eats something living – anything living – she can spit out a twisted clone of it, one with all its memories and a total hatred of everything it loved. Cloned parahumans also get a twisted version of their powers. So long as she has the parahuman inside her, she can keep spitting them out. If she gets loose, it's pretty damn close to an Endbringer attack. She's also highly regenerative. She survives being literally cut in half at one point.”

“What kills her?” It was Tattletale. “Something does kill her, right?”

Amy felt her head nod. “Sundancer's mobile sun. Which is a problem, this time around.”

“Why?” asked Regent lightly. “Travellers are villains, they probably need the cash. We pay her, she does it.”

“Because she's one of them.” Amy heard the grimness in her own voice. “Trickster is in love with her; he will violently oppose any plan to kill her. Even if she's running rampant at the time.”

“Good to know.” Grue's voice was an almost silent rumble. “Although you might have told us those other details before roping us into this little rescue mission.”

He has a really good point there. Amy was somewhat shaken at the description that Michael had given. I don't want to go up against that. Especially as you say that my power is trumped by hers.

Given that our current plan to deal with her is 'let the PRT handle it' … yeah. Good idea. Though I still think the 'make Coil a good guy' concept has merit.

Ew. No. She paused. How do we know that her power beats mine, anyway?

Coil tried, in a timeline he dropped. Apparently it turned out badly.

… how do you know about that?

Same way I know about a lot of other things.

She waited, but he didn't enlighten her. Okay, fine. Be that way.

Thanks, I will.

I think Grue is waiting for an answer.

Oh, right.

She looked up at the tall teenage villain and felt her throat being cleared. “Because they don't really change matters … and because I wanted them to be fresh in your mind when we go in. Just in case.” A glance at Skitter. “Have you got everyone marked yet?”

“Just about. I hope the bugs work as well as you say they do.”

Amy felt a smile stretch her lips. “Heh. Yeah. They surely do.” Her gaze turned to Vicky. “Having heard that … are you still sure you want to come with?”

“Like I said before, Ames,” Vicky told her steadily, “if you're in this, I'm in this.” She paused. “Quick question.”

Amy's head nodded. “Shoot.”

“This Noelle person. What happens if I hit her with something else? Like a piece of rebar, or something?”

Amy's shoulders shrugged. “You hit her. But she's got serious Brute ratings.”

Vicky's teeth gleamed in a brief smile. “So do I. Thanks. I'm good.”

“Good to hear,” Tattletale remarked, “because it's time we moved in. Coil expects me in the next few minutes.” Lifting the hatch cover with a grunt, she descended a set of steps. One by one they followed her; Grue, the last in, lowered the hatch to the 'closed' position once more.

Within the access tunnel, it was absolutely, utterly pitch black. She heard someone fumbling with something, and then there was a click and a beam of light splashed across the ceiling. Tattletale held a small flashlight; it wasn't that bright, but with her eyes adapted to the darkness, Amy felt that it was bright as daylight. Looking at each of them in turn, Tattletale gestured for quiet, then led the way down the tunnel.

What was it like, the last time you were here?

A lot darker. We were using night vision, and I didn't have a set of goggles.

I suppose this time we're expected. Or at least Lisa is.

Yup. Hoping that makes a difference.

You don't know?

Hey, making this up as I go along.

Yay.

<><>​

I need to find out what's going on.

With his current project still undergoing the process of addiction, Coil had to fall back on Tattletale. He currently had the timelines split; in one, he stayed in his base, while in the other, he left it and travelled to a safe-house. In both timelines, he called upon Tattletale to attend him.

His rule was to not indulge himself on his powered minions; they were hard to replace. However, in this particular circumstance, he really, desperately needed to get the truth; he was aware of Tattletale's attempted machinations against him, and so he had to find out if she was the one engineering this. If it was, he could find out the full plot and deal with it. If not … well, she was still very intuitive. Give her enough details of the encounter, and the chances were that she could work out the plot, and perhaps even point him toward the perpetrators.

And so, in his base, she would be treated with courtesy and respect. In the safe house, she would be treated … roughly. The answers would be compared, and used on both timelines to elicit farther answers from her. It was a technique that he had polished over time. Afterward, he would drop the safe-house line, so that she would never have been there.

Of course, it helped to have both questioning sessions going on at the same time, so he had timed his orders to Tattletale so that she arrived at both locations at the same time.

He leaned back in his computer chair and waited. It wouldn't be long before he got his answers.

One way or the other.

<><>​

Tell everyone, small room coming up. Everyone should hang back, so Tattletale can do her thing.

Okay. Amy cleared her throat as quietly as she could. “Small room coming up. Everyone stay back. Tattletale goes in.”

Lisa's head turned toward her. “I was just about to say that. You have been here before.”

“That's what he says,” Amy replied, flushing slightly.

“Okay then. Grue?”

As Tattletale stepped into the room, Grue moved to the front of the group, billowing his darkness around them. Amy understood the idea; it was to prevent the camera seeing them via a chance movement of the flashlight. She just didn't enjoy being in the almost suffocating lack of light.

It's weird stuff. Generated by his power, it acts like gas. Breathable, but absorbs all EM radiation with perfect efficiency. Dulls sound, and old scents as well. And he can see through it, of course.

How do you know so much about it?

Not my first rodeo, remember?

Hmm. She wanted to push the issue further; there was something he was holding back, she was sure. But at that moment, she felt a movement as someone pushed past her. What was that?

That was Skitter. I'd say Grue and her are dealing with the mercenaries on base.

This part of the plan had been detailed already; as Grue could see through his own darkness, and Skitter could use her bugs to navigate, they would move through the base in a cloud of darkness and take down the mercenaries as they came to them. Mired in Grue's darkness, the mercenaries would be out of touch with one another and with Coil; they would neither see nor hear Grue and Skitter coming.

I suppose it's a little bit unfair.

It's a whole lot unfair. But do you know what they call someone who offers his opponent a fair fight when he doesn't have to?

A sportsman?

An idiot. His tone was hard. Coil doesn't deserve a fair fight. He never gave anyone else one. He shot his commanding officer in the back, once upon a time.

Wow, really?

Yeah.

How did that happen?

Well, this was back in two thousand one. Ellisburg. Remember that?

I read about it in school.

Okay then. Calvert was a junior officer in one of the squads that went into Ellisburg …

<><>​

At first, Coil wasn't sure what was happening. In both his base and the safe house, contact was lost with the guards manning the entrance. And then a swirl of blackness swept in, blotting out everything. He knew, then. There was only one person who could do that, and that person was nominally in his pay.

He had planned for this, of course. It was only sensible to make plans for the possibility of any of his parahuman minions turning against him. Unfortunately, those plans required that he be free and clear in the other timeline.

Drawing his pistol, he fired blindly into the fog, in the general direction of the entrance; his men, as well trained as they were, would also be firing into the darkness, hoping to catch the interlopers in a crossfire.

But his pistol refused to fire at all; investigating, he found that the hammer was frozen solid. No amount of force would allow it to travel back. He tried to work the slide; that, also, was locked solid.

Tossing the useless weapon aside, he turned back to the keyboard. He might not be able to see it, but he could certainly enter the destruct code for the base. There was a secret back way out of the safe house …

In the safe-house, he felt his way along the wall, pushed aside a panel, and stepped into a secret way out. The panel slid back into place; he found his sight clearing, and moved more quickly now. He would have to destroy the base; there was far too much in the way of incriminating evidence there. Pulling out his phone, he sent the destruct signal; as he paused beside the outer panel, he got the return signal that it had been carried out. He pushed aside the outer panel, and found himself face to face with a very large dog.

Something was wrong; the base should have been destroyed by now. That timeline was still active and running. He tried to re-enter the destruct code on the keyboard, but his arms and hands were heavy, floppy, unresponsive. As his other-timeline self was seized and shaken like a rag doll between merciless jaws, he realised with horror that this timeline might be the only viable one left.

Why hadn't the base blown up yet?

As his spinal vertebrae were crunched like so much popcorn between the jaws of the monstrous dog, he shut down the safe-house timeline and reverted to the base timeline. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, save perhaps that they were still dealing with his mercenaries. How they had fixed his pistol not to fire, he wasn't sure. Or disabled his arms, for that matter.

And then his arms wouldn't move at all; they felt almost glued to the arms of the computer chair. He tried to make them obey him, but there was no response, no matter how he strained. But then, ever so slowly, the darkness began to fade away.

His wrists, he saw, were fastened to the arms of the chair with zip-ties. With whatever had been done to him, he hadn't even felt it.

And then the darkness faded farther, and he saw them. The Undersiders; standing in a semi-circle, observing him dispassionately. With them … he wasn't sure. Teenage girls, definitely, wearing dark clothes. One shorter than the other. The shorter one holding Dinah by the hand.

And then he recognised the taller one as having smashed into his house, and everything clicked together.

“Well done,” he stated in as congratulatory tone as he could manage. “I'm proud of you, Tattletale. How did you ever talk these two young heroes into helping you?”

<><>​

“I didn't,” Tattletale told him cheerfully. “They came to me. Told us about Dinah.”

Skitter stepped forward. “How could you?” she asked bitterly. “You used us.”

Coil shrugged, as best he could. Apparently, his best wasn't great. “Villain, remember?” he pointed out. “I needed a diversion.”

This was the truth, Amy judged. Tattletale would be calling him on it, otherwise.

“And talking about that,” Coil went on, “did you delay the self-destruct or halt it, because if the former, we're all in danger here.”

“Self-destruct?” asked Tattletale mockingly. “What self-destruct?”

Amy saw Coil turn his head; the cords leading to and from his computer had been severed. As he did so, several large bugs of what Michael called the 'cutter' type scuttled from under his desk and up Skitter's legs. Although she had to be aware of the creatures, she ignored them. At Michael's suggestion, she had built them with acid glands to better cut through whatever they were gnawing on.

Where did you get that idea from?

Well, last time around, it was your idea.

Oh. She felt oddly pleased.

“Well, then,” Coil stated. “How did you disable my firearm? And what did you do to my arms?”

Grue stepped up to him then. “We're the ones asking questions,” he rumbled. “And I've got a really simple one.”

“So ask.” Coil leaned back in the chair, apparently at ease.

Damn, he's a cool one.

Hell yes.

Grue leaned close. “We were told that you bought your powers. Who did you buy them from?”

Amy felt her eyes open wide. Oh shit -

Is it so bad?

Fucking yes.

Before either she or Michael could speak, however, another voice broke in.

“That is a question that you do not need to have answered.” The voice was feminine, assured, and held no particular accent.

The group before Coil turned; a woman was standing there, where seconds before there had been nobody. Behind her, as a hint as to where she had come from, a portal in midair was just closing. She wore an immaculate business suit; her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin.

Despite being outnumbered six to one, she seemed not at all concerned by the odds stacked against her.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit.


End of Part Eleven

Part Twelve

 

I, Panacea

Part Twelve: Escalation


Amy felt Michael take her body over, and inhale deeply; at the same time, he shoved Dinah behind her.

What - ?

Sorry -

He didn't even bother finishing the thought; the moment that he had finished filling her lungs with air, he expelled it all in a shout.

"EVERYONE STAND THE FUCK DOWN!"

But it was too late. Amy had a split second to consider the fact that if he had not used the expletive, they may have heard him in time. However, around about the same instant that Amy's front teeth were pressing into her lower lip to form the 'f' sound, Bitch gave a sharp command. Snarling and barking – and, incidentally, drowning the final two words out – the dogs leaped to the attack.

Regent lifted his arms to gesture; Grue started forward with blackness welling up around him. But even faster than Grue and the dogs was Vicky; taking to the air, she lunged at the woman. Amy saw the woman sway aside, removing her hat and placing it over Vicky's face in a perfectly-timed move; at the same time, she swung a fist. Blinded by the hat, Vicky went past the woman and hit one of the catwalk supports; the woman's fist struck her in the solar plexus just a fraction of a second later, dropping her to the metal grating with a groan.

The dogs were almost upon her; she darted into Grue's blackness. They followed, of course.

Christ. They'll tear -

Amy was still formulating the thought by the time that one dog came flying out of the black fog backwards and another sideways; each one dragged tattered fragments of the blackness with it. The first one hit Regent at about chest height, while the second struck Skitter in the solar plexus; her spider-silk costume did little to cushion the impact, and the breath whooshed out of her. Both went staggering backwards; Taylor lost her balance and fell heavily, striking her head on the floor. Regent went back against the guard rail; the weight of the dog flipped him back over it, and they both disappeared from view. The third dog, emerging from the cloud a moment after the other two, hit Bitch across the face; she went over backwards as well.

The blackness dissipated; Amy saw, as it did so, that Grue was down, at the feet of the woman. Tattletale had her small pistol out, but the woman was already moving toward her; Tattletale's eyes widened behind her mask and a shot rang out. But it ricocheted from concrete; the woman had swayed from its path. And then she had her hands on it, was taking it from Tattletale's hands as easily as a mother might take a toy from the hands of a baby. Tattletale was on her knees, the arm twisted up at an angle that had to be painful.

- her apart.

In less time than it took to think about it, the mystery woman had gone from being unarmed and at the mercy of half a dozen opponents, to armed and in control of the situation. Vicky was still doubled up on the ground, while Skitter and Grue seemed to be stunned or unconscious. Bitch was also out; the dog that had collided with her was whining and licking her face. And Regent – Regent went over the rail!

Fuck. I did not want this.

What are you going -

But Michael was already moving her body forward. As if in a dream, she saw the woman turning toward her, saw the flash of utter bewilderment as her wrist slapped into Amy's palm, preventing the pistol from coming into line. The woman struggled, tried to use her superior strength, but Michael was still moving, gripping, twisting. She was behind the woman now; one final twist on the wrist and the hand opened, the pistol clattering to the metal catwalk.

Amy was only moderately fit, and not overly strong for her age, but she now saw how a relatively weak person can overcome a stronger, unskilled opponent. Her arm laced around and through the woman's, her biceps under the elbow, her hand pulling the woman's hand down hard against the wrist. The pressure, she could tell through her powers, was moderately uncomfortable, unless the victim struggled, in which case it could become extremely painful.

Paralyse her!

Reflexively, she did what he told her; her power flooded into the woman's nervous system, disabling all voluntary control over her body. Autonomous and semi-autonomous mechanisms remained, of course; she didn't want the woman suffocating. The woman sagged in her grip, and Michael prepared to lower her to the ground.

The shots that rang out took them both by surprise; the woman jolted in Amy's grasp. They echoed through the complex, one after the other; at least five in total. One bullet punched into the woman's stomach, another into her chest. The rest had gone elsewhere.

Fuck. Shit. What happened?

Amy felt the strain in her shoulders as Michael lowered the woman to the ground. Blood covered her chest and her abdomen. It soaked into her clothes, dripped through the metal grating. She could feel the thin pulse of life, getting thinner by the second. Looking up, she saw Bitch holding the pistol, pointing it, the thin curl of smoke from the barrel.

Holy shit, Bitch shot her.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Stabilise her!

What? Why? I thought you wanted her dead!

No, I wanted her not calling for help! Stabilise her! He seemed almost frantic with the need to save this mystery woman.

Amy concentrated; blood vessels closed, the body scavenged fatty tissues for blood. The heart rate steadied.

Okay, she's stable. Now tell me why -

Bitch stepped closer. “Get out of the way.” She aimed the pistol.

Amy felt herself move into the path of the gun. I've been here before. The tiny muzzle, only a fraction of an inch, seemed even larger to her than the last time she had seen it from this perspective.

“Get out of the way,” Bitch repeated. Her voice was dead, flat. The pistol shook, very slightly. Amy was fairly sure that this wasn't due to fear.

“Why? Why kill her? She's not a threat any more.” Amy wasn't sure whether she was asking this, or Michael.

“She killed Brutus. She killed Regent.” Bitch gestured, off to the side. Tattletale was leaning, looking down. She looked back. Amy could read from her expression that the news wasn't good.

“It's only been a few seconds.” Tattletale's voice was urgent. “Amy can save Brutus. She can save both of them.” She stepped forward. “Just don't kill that woman.”

The pistol swung to point directly at Amy's face. “If you can save him, do it,” gritted Bitch. Amy knew she wasn't referring to Regent. “Now.”

“First, give me the pistol,” Amy heard herself say. “Now.”

“No.”

“Give me. The pistol.” She took a step closer.

Why are you so anxious to save her?

Bitch shook her head. “No,” she repeated.

Saving the world will be a fuck-load harder without her.

Saving the world?

Yeah, saving the world. When I grab Bitch, you paralyse her.

When you what?

Amy's eyes lowered, her whole body hunched. “Okay. You win.” She started to turn away, then lunged forward. Bitch was taken off guard by the sudden shift from submissive to aggressive behaviour, and Amy managed to grab her forearm. The pistol went off, a malignant flat crack, the bullet winging past her ear. And then Amy was into her nervous system, and Bitch was collapsing like a marionette with the strings cut.

Michael took a moment to lean against the rail, breathing heavily; Amy could hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears. “Fuck,” her voice muttered. “I do not need shit like this.”

Regent and Brutus. We have to save them.

Oh. Fuck. Yes. Here, have control back.

Jerking upright, Amy scanned to the left and the right for stairs down. Then she turned and grabbed Vicky, who was still suffering from the punch the woman had given her. “Vicky!”

“Ungh?”

Amy pushed her power into Vicky's body, reviving her, removing the bruising, bringing her back to normal. “You need to get me down to the lower level, now!”

“Shit, okay.” Vicky picked her up. “Did someone post the bank thing on Youtube, or does everyone just know my weakness now?”

She just knew it. It's her thing. She can do that to anyone.

“Michael says she knows everyone's weakness.”

“Oh. Well, I feel better now. Not much, but better.”

Over the rail they went, and down to the lower level. Regent lay there, his mask cracked in half. The dog lay half under him, its head twisted at an odd angle.

Falling to her knees, Amy checked on Regent. Alive. Unconscious. Mild concussion. Landed on the dog.

“Regent's alive!” she called out.

Can you fix it?

He'll be headachey and dizzy due to the concussion, but I can fix the bruising, wake him up.

If you can do that, do it.

Okay.

No, actually. If he's fine, then check the dog. I don't want to have to deal with a more-homicidal-than-normal Bitch.

Amy took a deep breath, and rolled him to a more comfortable position. Then she moved to the dog.

Broken neck. Crushed skull.

Is there brain activity?

Some, but -

Can you fix it?

I can, but -

But what?

I'll have to work on its brain. Otherwise it'll be like it's had a stroke.

Do you have a moral problem with working on dog brains?

I … they're pretty intelligent -

Fuck. Stabilise it, so it doesn't die while we're debating the matter.

I can do that, yes.

Drawing a deep breath, she fixed what she could. The crushed skull clicked back into place, the swelling went down, and the broken neck healed itself. She left the dog unconscious, and turned back to Regent.

Aren't you going to say something?

Such as?

That I should fix his brain? Maybe make him a little less sociopathic?

If you want to, go right ahead. You'd just be fixing pre-existing damage anyway.

What do you mean?

I mean that his father is Heartbreaker, and he inflicted horrors on his kids till they triggered. And he's still doing it, even today.

Christ. Amy looked more closely at Regent's brain. Now, she could see the neural scarring. He was terrified to the point that he could no longer feel fear.

Got it in one.

I could change that, but that would change who he is. Who people know him to be. That's not my right.

And that's why you don't do brains.

There's more to it than that. The body is simple; it's healthy, or it's not. It's injured, or it's not. It works, for a given definition of 'works', or it doesn't. The brain is a lot more complex.

I can just imagine.

You really can't. There's so much going on in there, all interconnected. It's biology; I can change it as easily as I fix a broken leg. But where a broken leg is fixed and done, you can't just 'fix' a brain problem like schizophrenia. There are many underlying causes, and you have to go and fix all them, and by the time you've done all that, the person's not really the same person any more.

Oh. Yeah. Ouch.

The worse bit is, I can see it all. I can see how it could be fixed. How I could get rid of this neurosis, and that personality disorder, and make the person a better person. And they'd never know it. Worse, even if they did know, they might thank me for it.

I can see where that could cause problems, yeah.

So the basic problem isn't that I can't do brains, or that I don't know what to do. I'm just scared that I'd always want to do one more -

And that was when they heard the shot.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuuuuuuuuck!

Amy turned to Vicky. “Get me up there now!”

Vicky didn't even argue; she simply grabbed Amy, and they went straight up and over the rail.

<><>​

Calvert tested his bonds and came up short, again. He had two timelines running, of course. In the first, he sat tight, evaluating the three girls left watching him.

<><>​

In the second, he began to speak; softly, compellingly.

“Well, now,” he murmured. “We're all in a pretty pickle now, aren't we?”

“Shut up,” Tattletale told him flatly.

“No, no, what does he mean?” asked Skitter. She addressed Calvert directly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, dear Skitter, that the woman right there is the enforcer of the world's premier shadow organisation. She's struck fear into the hearts of more people than you can imagine. And now you've got her down and wounded. She might even die. There's going to be some very angry people over this. And these are people who don't just shrug and say, 'oh well, it was a fair fight'. These are people who obliterate the opposition.”

“And you've got a solution, no doubt.” Skitter's voice was just a little cynical. She's been spending far too much time with Tattletale and Regent.

“Of course I do,” he agreed. “Work with me on this one. If we combine our powersets – I tell you what to do, you do it – we might just come out of this alive. We may even prosper.”

“Shut up, I said,” Tattletale ordered.

“What's the matter?” asked Coil. “Scared I'll tell her the truth? My dear Tattletale, we're boned here. I know who this woman's allies are; you don't. Even with your vaunted power, you'll never see them coming.”

<><>​

In the first timeline, the three girls were talking quietly.

“So you're really all right?” asked Skitter of Dinah.

“Uh huh,” agreed the middle schooler. “I feel all right. I'll feel cravings for a bit, but that'll fade.”

“So he was just going to keep you prisoner, keep you addicted, keep you using your power for him?”

Dinah nodded. “Yeah. Until you killed him and got me out of there.”

Calvert's head came up. He managed not to respond, but Tattletale caught the movement.

“Wow, that got you where it hurt, didn't it?” she taunted him. “I always kinda thought that I'd be the one to end you.”

“Your reach always exceeded your grasp,” he replied, stung. “Every day, part of my amusement involved dismantling your little plots before they could come to fruition.”

“Not all of them,” she shot back.

“Yes, all of them, you stupid little girl,” he retorted. “I could always out-think you. I was plotting my way around people far smarter than you before you ever -”

The shot interrupted him. He looked down to see the bullet-hole in the middle of his chest, slowly oozing blood.

“Plot your way around that,” Tattletale told him bitterly. “And don't call me stupid.”

As the world went dark, he ended that timeline.

<><>​

In the second timeline, Skitter waved Tattletale to silence. “I want to hear this.”

Calvert split off another timeline, but this seemed to be working well. If I can get Skitter aligned to me ...

“You and I, we could work together,” he told the bug controller eagerly. “You, all of you, work well together. I can provide you with strategy that works. And afterward, after we deal with this problem, we can build up the city, make it work.”

“Fix the schools,” Skitter put in.

“Definitely fix the schools,” Calvert agreed, anxious to go with what seemed important to her. Something occurred to him, and he spoke without thinking. “Your father has a lot of civic pride. Imagine what he could do as mayor.”

Skitter's voice was very quiet. “You know who my father is?”

Calvert was suddenly aware that he had made a mistake; before he could rectify it, Dinah spoke up. “Eighty-seven point three six percent chance that he has your father assassinated before he finishes his first term.”

“I – that's -” began Calvert hastily.

“Because your father wouldn't play ball with him,” Tattletale went on musingly. “He wouldn't take kick-backs or bribes. Would he?”

“No,” Skitter replied. “He wouldn't. And Coil would have him killed?”

“No!” blustered Calvert. “That's ridiculous! I can work with your father! I wouldn't have him killed! Tell him, pet!”

“Ninety-six point nine three seven four percent chance your father survives his first term,” Dinah confirmed. Skitter relaxed; Calvert breathed a sigh of relief. If this went wrong, he didn't have any way out.

“Chances that Skitter survives the same term?” asked Tattletale.

“Eighty-nine point three seven two four percent chance that Coil has her killed instead,” Dinah noted.

“And no doubt you'd have my dad die afterward anyway. Once I was out of the way.” Skitter had the pistol in her hand. It was an untutored grip, but pointing directly at Calvert's chest.

He opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it would do no good. They weren't listening to him any more.

Dinah nodded. “Ninety-six point three two nine four -”

The pistol went off, and Calvert felt the pain in his chest. In both timelines at once.

“ - five percent chance of that happening.”

He clutched at life; there were no more timelines. I can't die like this!

But he did anyway.

<><>​

The mystery woman still lay there; she had no new wounds, and she still breathed. It was Coil, still fastened to his chair, who slumped dead, his head hanging forward. A darker discolouration in the middle of his chest showed where the shot had gone in.

Skitter still stood, holding the pistol. Slowly, she let it fall, where it clattered once more to the grating. She turned as Amy approached.

“Why?” asked Amy.

“He was talking,” Skitter mumbled. “Making big plans. Talking about my Dad.”

Tattletale put her arm around Skitter's shoulders. “He talked about putting her dad in as mayor. Then Dinah mentioned the fact that he'd have the guy killed for refusing to take bribes. Even when he knew that we knew, he couldn't stop plotting, planning to kill one or both of them.”

“I didn't have a choice,” Skitter told herself, told Amy, hopelessly. “I didn't have a choice.”

He would have done it, Michael informed Amy. He was an arse. But I was hoping that we could use him. Fuck. Well.

Amy looked at the dead man, at the almost dead woman, at the figure of Grue slowly sitting up, at the limp form of Bitch. She looked at Skitter, sitting in the chair, staring at the floor, at the still, silent form of Dinah standing by her, then turned to Vicky. “Take me back down there. I've got to finish up.”

Not even going to try to save Coil?

If he'd have Skitter assassinated, he'd have all of us assassinated.

Vicky carried her over the rail, and set her down on the floor below.

Really weird the way things are turning out.

What do you mean? She knelt beside Regent, looking over the head injury. There were no broken blood vessels, nothing that would cause ongoing problems.

She would have killed him anyway, but it would have been months later. After she makes him come good on the promise to release Dinah, but then he goes back on it and tries to have her killed. She gets away, and ends up killing him later on.

Oh. I see. I think. She brushed her fingertips across Regent's forehead, waking him up.

Grue's voice echoed down from above. “What's wrong with Bitch? And who is this woman?”

May I?

Sure.

Amy inhaled and looked up to call back. “She wanted to kill the woman, so I had Amy paralyse her. It's fixable. But do not kill that woman. We desperately need her alive.”

His voice did not sound thrilled when he answered. “Okay, fine. We've gotten this far. We'll see it through.”

Control returned to Amy. Now for Brutus.

What do I do?

He's not human. You don't have to worry about taking away what he is. Surely you can just fix him.

But he's a thinking being. Not as intelligent as a person, surely, but -

Listen, you're going to have to draw the line between bugs and dogs, or dogs and people. Where is it? Where do you not cross over?

Amy felt herself shaking harder, until Michael stilled her hands. She caressed the dog's scarred head. The damage was bad, despite the fact that she had stabilised him. Some of his brain tissue was was totally disorganised from the rest; he would never have a normal life.

He didn't know any better. He doesn't deserve this.

I agree.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent her power into the dog's head, reforming the damaged parts. Fixing them. Making Brutus whole once more.

I swore I would never touch brains. Never.

Never is a big word, kiddo. If Vicky ever suffered brain injury from being hit on the head, would you still not fix her?

Oh god, don't ask me that.

If I don't ask it, what happens when you're faced with it?

Shut up. I don't want to hear this any more.

I'm sorry.

And I wish I hadn't told Vicky, hadn't spoken to her. At least then I could live in hope.

Amy. His voice was grim. That's dangerous thinking.

She knew he was right, but she ploughed on anyway. So what? It's a dangerous world. We nearly died, before. I could have died. Bitch could have shot me. Killed the both of us.

I had to do something. I couldn't let her kill Contessa.

“Ames?” asked Vicky. “What's the matter?”

Amy came to herself, realised that she was still kneeling between Regent and the dog. Regent was sitting up, somewhat dazedly; Brutus was still out cold. Reaching out, she brushed the dog with her fingertips, and he awoke.

<><>​

“What I want to know is, who is this woman?” asked Grue. They were all now on the upper level. Bitch had been revived, and sat on the floor, holding Brutus close to her, shooting Amy suspicious glances from time to time.

Can I talk?

Yeah, sure, go ahead. Amy didn't care any more.

“Her name is Contessa,” Michael explained. “And she's a member of a powerful organisation that operates from the shadows. I didn't expect to get her attention, and I really, really didn't want to get it in this manner.”

“How did she take us down so easily?” asked Regent. “I mean, I missed some of it, but she was dancing between the raindrops, there.”

“More to the point,” Grue added, “how did you take her down? She was in the dark, and she was still ducking past my hits.”

Amy felt her hands rubbing over her face. “This is the part of the conversation that I wasn't looking forward to,” Michael muttered. He raised her voice. “She's a precog of sorts. She can look for a solution, and her power tells her the exact steps needed to reach it. All of them. So she didn't need to see you to beat you; her power told her what moves she needed to make. Perfectly and flawlessly.”

“Okay, so how did you beat her?” Regent persisted. “Are you a precog after all?”

“No,” Michael replied. “It's like I told you. I'm an extra-dimensional being. Kind of extruded into Amy's brain. It's why I can no-sell your power on her. I can't access her powers, but I can puppet her body. Contessa can't tell what I'm going to do, because the majority of me is outside the reality that her power can scan.”

Even Skitter's head came up at that. The pressure of the disbelieving stares was almost palpable in nature.

“And you're just … telling us that,” Grue stated flatly. “Like it doesn't matter.”

“Against you, it doesn't,” Michael assured him, via Amy's voice. “Your power works on Amy's senses just fine, and I can't go outside her body. About the only other person here who might be affected is Dinah.”

Dinah looked up at that. “My power can't sense you at all,” she assured Amy – or rather, Michael. “Every time you speak, it's a surprise, because I'm expecting silence. Or for Amy to say something different.”

“Okay, I'll bite,” ventured Grue. “What's so important about keeping this woman alive?”

“For one, she's a great way to contact that organisation I told you about,” Amy's voice told him. “For another, she's really important to keeping things from going to shit before the end of the world kicks off. And for another -”

“And for another,” a familiar voice intruded on their gathering, “she's a friend of mine, so I'd really rather have her back alive.”

<><>​

Skitter raised her head. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

Amy felt her head bow for a moment. “Fuck,” Michael announced through her. “It's Alexandria, isn't it? I'd know that tone anywhere.”

Slowly, she turned; Alexandria was indeed hovering there, arms folded, surveying the group coldly.

“You may consider yourselves all under arrest,” the Triumvirate hero announced. “If you run, I will catch you. I don't promise not to injure you.” She drifted closer. “What have you done to her? Is she even alive?”

Amy felt her chin being raised. “She was shot twice at close range with a low-calibre pistol. The damage was neutralised and she is stable.”

“How did this even happen?” snarled Alexandria. “How did you beat her power?” She scanned the group. “I've read your files; there's not a Trump among you.”

“It's because of who and what I am,” Amy heard herself say.

“Amy Dallon. Panacea.” Alexandria shook her head. “You could not neutralise her power. Not unless you got into contact with her. And she would not let you.”

Amy stood still. “Look deeper.”

Alexandria's scrutiny was almost a felt thing. She drifted closer again. “The voice stress patterns, the mannerisms. You're not Panacea.”

“Yes and no,” Amy's voice told her. “I'm just visiting. She's here, but she gave permission to talk to you. We need to talk, you and I. And Contessa. And the others.”

The older hero's lip curled, under the edge of the helmet that obscured half of Alexandria's face. “Whoever or whatever you are, you don't get to dictate terms to me.”

“No, I don't,” Michael agreed. “But I'm asking you to agree to them. Because I know.”

“Know? Know what?”

“About everything worth knowing,” he told her steadily. “The dirty little secrets. The dirty big secrets. About you, and Cauldron, how you go together, and why. And how to save the world. How to beat Zion.”

Alexandria was jolted, just a little, Amy saw. But she rallied, spoke strongly. “Anyone can say anything. Tattletale there could say more with just a few hints. You're trying to avoid your just punishment. There's no way you could know as much as you say.”

“There is, and I do.” Amy's feet moved, stepping her forward. “You're really good at reading people. Read me. Tell me I'm lying.”

“You spoofed Contessa's powers somehow.” Alexandria's voice was … wary? “You could be spoofing mine. You could make me think you're telling the truth.”

“You really think that's likely?” Amy's voice was sharp. “Or do you just not want to face up to the fact that there's someone standing in front of you with all the answers, and you didn't come up with them first?”

“That depends,” Alexandria riposted. “How did you get the better of her? I've never seen it done, and I've known her for years.”

“Since … oh, nineteen eighty-six, wasn't it? August, if I recall correctly.” Alexandria's head came up at that. “Doctor Mother visited you in hospital. You didn't take much convincing.”

“If you know that, you know why.” Alexandria's voice was sharp. “All right, you've convinced me that you know more than you should. How did you beat Contessa?”

Amy's shoulders shrugged. “I'm an extra-dimensional being, about as far above Zion as he is above you, plugged into Amy's brain. Fortuna had as much chance as reading me as one of Skitter's bugs has of figuring out who you are under that mask.”

“Whereas you already know.”

“I do indeed.”

“That's very dangerous information to have.”

Amy's lips made a rude noise. “It's the least of it. I know shit that you don't. That you'd sell your soul to get.”

“What do you know?”

“Where Endbringers come from. Why they exist. What's likely to happen if you ever manage to kill one. How to stop them. And that's just for starters.”

“Is this related to Scion – Zion – whatever you call him? Why did you call him that, anyway?”

Amy felt herself grin. “It's what he calls himself. The people who heard him speak got it wrong.” Michael paused, then asked another question. "How come you turned up here, anyway?"

"They'd arranged to meet," Tattletale supplied. "Contessa missed the appointment, so Alexandria came looking."

Ah. Makes sense.

“This information.” Alexandria seemed to get a grip on herself. “You'll share it?”

“Presuming conditions are met.” Amy found herself meeting Alexandria's gaze steadily.

“Define 'conditions'.” The older hero's voice was hard.

“The Undersiders get to go on their way. That's the first one.”

“Hm. Why did Contessa come here?” Alexandria eyed Coil's body. “Because of him?”

“Yeah. Someone asked him where he bought his powers. I'd say he was going to spill the beans so that Cauldron would take notice of these guys. He's a dick like that.”

“Who asked?” Alexandria's voice was steel-edged.

“Doesn't matter. They've learned the error of their ways.” Amy's voice was just as hard. “The Undersiders get to go where they want. Hell, you could bring them in as allies. They're pretty resourceful.”

“I'll consider it.” There was no give, no surrender, in Alexandria's voice. “Next?”

“Amy and Vicky get to keep being ordinary cape teens. No surveillance, no following, no abductions.”

Vicky turned to stare at Amy. Oh yeah, not me in the driver's seat.

“All … right,” acknowledged Alexandria. “Any more conditions?”

“Certain people need to die or be co-opted.”

Amy felt her heart lurch. What? No! Just casually ordering the deaths of people …

Sorry, but it's the way it's gotta be.

Alexandria didn't even hesitate. “Who?”

Michael ticked off fingers as he spoke. “Jack Slash. Crawler. William Manton. Shatterbird. Teacher. Saint and the Dragonslayers.” He paused. “That's that list for the moment. Then there's the ones who need to be gotten out of the situations they're in.”

“You're asking a lot.”

“I'm offering a lot.”

“ … I'm listening.”

“Canary needs to be pulled out of jail, for starters. Kill the court case. Bonesaw needs to be taken out of the Nine, cleared of all dangerous shit, and given lots of therapy. Purity needs to be offered a chance to make up for her crimes. Flechette needs to be transferred to Brockton Bay. Shadow Stalker needs to be booted into juvey as of about tomorrow afternoon.”

Alexandria was staring at Amy. “You're insane. You have to be. I can't pull all that off.”

“Sure you can,” Tattletale assured her. “You'll have Contessa back on her feet. She can pull off anything.”

“And doing all this will get us closer to being able to beat Scion?” Alexandria's voice was sceptical.

“It'll help lay the bare bones of the plan, sure,” Amy heard herself say.

Alexandria frowned. “Very well. You've made your demands. Now I'm going to make mine.”

“I'm listening.”

“You will tell us everything we need to know, at the earliest possible convenience. How to beat Scion. What you know about the Endbringers. Everything.”

“May fifteenth.”

“What?”

“Leviathan is due to hit here on May the fifteenth. We've got one month to stop that from happening.”

“No.” Alexandria shook her head. “You can't know that. Nobody's been able to predict an Endbringer event, ever.”

“Dinah.” Amy turned to look at the girl. “The Boardwalk, by May the twentieth. Useable, or utterly trashed?”

Dinah paused. “Ninety-three point four six one five percent chance that it is wrecked beyond use.”

Amy's hands dusted one another off. “And so.”

“You're coming with me, now.” Alexandria approached Amy. “This information needs to be verified.”

“No. We are not. I'm going to get Contessa back on her feet, then each of us here is going to assure you that we're not going to spread the word, then we're all walking out of here. You get to do whatever you want with Coil and the subdued minions around the base.”

“I don't think you were listening. We need the information. Now.”

“And you'll get it. At my earliest convenience. Which is not right now.” Amy heard herself fake a yawn. “I'm tired. I need my beauty sleep.”

“This is no time to play games!”

“And it's no time to come the heavy.” Amy's body stepped up to Alexandria. “You'll get the information in good time. And if just one of these people is inconvenienced in an attempt to get it out of me, I'll give you wrong data. So play nice, and you get all the cookies.”

If she grabs us, get ready to paralyse her.

I'm not sure if my power works on her.

Now you tell me.

I didn't think I'd be facing Alexandria.

Fair point. Well, do your best.

Alexandria was studying Amy's face. “I think -”

What she thought was never made clear, because at that moment, a phone went off.

Is that yours?

No. It's not Vicky's, either.

“Okay,” growled Grue. “Who forgot to put their phone on silent?”

“Him.” It was Dinah, pointing at Coil's corpse. A dim light could be seen, flashing through the thin cloth at his hip.

The Undersiders traded glances; you get it. No, you get it. Nobody moved, until Tattletale grunted in annoyance and stepped forward. Gingerly, trying not to touch the cooling corpse, she levered the phone out of what appeared to be a pocket set into the side of the costume.

Pressing the answer icon, she held the phone before Coil's dead face and schooled her voice into as masculine a grunt as she could manage. “Yeah?”

The phone lit up with an image that Amy couldn't see from her angle. “It's me. Noelle. No-one's put any food in for me. Could you tell someone to hurry it up? I'm getting really hungry in here.”

Tattletale made Coil's head nod, then she cut the call. She turned to the rest of the group. “I've got a really bad feeling about that.”

Oh fuck.

What?

Amy heard herself clearing her throat. “You're right to be concerned. Remember that Case 53 I told you about?”

“What Case 53?” asked Alexandria sharply.

Amy went to the rail, leaned over, and pointed at a largish metal door on the lower level; it looked to have been assembled in sections. “In there. She's pretty big by now. She absorbs capes that touch her – that does include you – and spits out twisted, evil versions. Just as powerful. And guess what – she's hungry.”

Alexandria absorbed this. “So, can that door hold her?”

“Not if she doesn't want it to.”

“How dangerous are we talking?”

Michael waggled Amy's hand. “A-class to S-class.”

“Fuck me,” muttered Grue. And that seemed to adequately sum up the situation.

In the silence that followed, the phone began to ring again.


End of Part Twelve

Part Thirteen