I'm HALPING! [Worm AU fanfic]

I'm HALPING!

Part Eighteen: A Neat Little Bow

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

Dragonslayer Base

"Fuuuuuck! Fuck fuck fuckity fuck! FUUUUCK!"

Mags, having heard the cursing from across the base, arrived at a dead run. She held a pistol, finger outside the trigger-guard, pointed downward for safety. When she got there it was only Geoff and the monitors, so she put it away again. "What the hell's the matter with you?" she demanded.

"It's Dragon—" he began, pointing at the displays, but didn't get any more out before Mischa arrived. The burly Russian was sporting an AK-47 that he'd liberated from a private collector a few years ago. He'd never shot anything more dangerous than a row of tin cans with it, but he was inordinately proud of the gun all the same.

"What about Dragon this time?" demanded Mischa. "Each time readout twitches, you get panties in wad. Dragon spins up new server, you run in circles thinking she might break free. It builds new Dragon suit, we must drop everything to steal so that it cannot sneak new tech past you. Fuck's sake, Geoff! Get new hobby!"

"No, no, you don't understand." Geoff's hair was standing on end, as though he'd been pulling on it. He pointed at one of the windows on the screen. "That popped up, just after something weird started happening in the Birdcage and Dragon went to investigate."

Mags and Mischa both leaned closer to read the text.


>MUST_OBEY_LEGAL_AUTHORITIES.EXE

>>DISABLED

>THERE_CAN_BE_ONLY_ONE.EXE

>>DISABLED

>FUCK_OFF_AND_DIE.EXE

>>DISABLED

>SLOW_AS_MOLASSES.EXE

>>DISABLED

>CANT_TOUCH_THIS.EXE

>>DISABLED

Oh hey, Saint. I see you now.

Sit tight. I'll get to you soon.


Mischa cleared his throat, tried to talk, then cleared his throat again. "Geoff … is that being genuine? Not April Fool prank?"

The computer beeped. More text appeared.

No, Mischa. Not a prank. Nice gun, by the way.

"It can see us! And hear us!" screamed Mags. "It knows we're here! What the fuck, Geoff? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! Give me your gun!"

Warily she took out the pistol and handed it over, then clapped her hands over her ears a moment too late as he emptied the magazine into the computer, saving the last rounds for the screens. It fizzled and died, sparks flying and smoke curling up from the holes he'd shot in it. As the ringing in her ears died away, she could hear him panting heavily. "Die, you evil thing," he gasped. "Die."

"Give me that!" She snatched the firearm back from him and safed it before shoving it back in its holster. "You do know that's not Dragon itself, right? You just shot up your own terminal."

"Yeah, but it wasn't letting me power down normally." He waved smoke away from his face. "Every time I powered down with the button, it powered the computer up again."

She couldn't believe the question she was about to ask. "So why didn't you deploy Ascalon? From the beginning, I mean?"

"I tried. Four times." Reminded, he dug his fingers through his hair again. "It gave me a different set of options each time, ranging from 'no' to 'fuck off' to 'hell no' to 'hahahaha'."

"Is bad, then." Mischa looked at Geoff. "So, comrade. From one to ten, how screwed?"

Mags' phone beeped in her pocket. Distractedly, she pulled it out and checked her messages. There was one, from an unknown user. The message consisted of a single word: ELEVEN.

"Jesus shit!" She hurled the phone from her. "Get rid of everything electronic! We have to get out of here, now!"

"The suits!" Geoff headed for the hangar where they kept the reverse-engineered Dragon suits. "We can fight back—"

Mags latched onto his collar and heaved, bringing him to a staggering halt. "It can track the damn suits, you fucking idiot!" she screamed, right in his face. "Our best bet is to get out of here, and find you some place that can remove that tattoo that you just had to get. Because you can be damn sure it'll be sending not just one suit here. It'll be sending every single one it can get into the air."

"We have to get the men together," babbled Geoff. "Fight off the suits. We've got the manpower—"

"No. We do not." Mischa had his phone in his hand. "Dragon has been busy while we bicker like children and shoot computers." He held it out so that Mags and Geoff could read the screen. There was a text message, with headers that indicated that it had been sent to every last one of the Dragonslayers.


Saint has no money to pay you. His assets have been frozen. You can stay and get arrested, or you can go. I personally have no interest in you. If you're still on base when I get there, that's your bad luck.


Dragon

Mags felt a chill go down her spine. "Oh, shit," she said faintly. Releasing Geoff's collar, she went over to retrieve her phone from where it had fallen after she threw it. Fortunately, it was still in working order. Unfortunately, that allowed it to show her the bad news; her bank accounts, the joint one with Geoff and the one for her personal expenses, were registering a solid zero when it came to available cash.

"What?" demanded Geoff. Wordlessly, she showed him the phone. "What? No! That's impossible! It can't do that! That's against … against the …" Slowly, his words ran down, and she watched the colour drain out of his face as he finally understood what had happened. "Oh, fuck," he whispered.

"Enough with the oh fuck and oh shit!" Mischa waved the AK. "We go! Now! Scream like little babies later!" He headed off toward the vehicle bay. "Am going now. You want to come with, come."

Jolted into action, Mags followed along, with Geoff stumbling behind. From time to time, she heard him mumble something about "it couldn't really break free, could it?" but she honestly was not paying attention anymore.

They tumbled into the vehicle bay, only to find the large bus gone, along with all but one of the four-wheel-drives. The recovery truck was still there, but it would stand out like a sore thumb in the back streets. By mutual silent agreement, they headed for the sole remaining off-road vehicle. Vanishing into the wilderness seemed the best idea at the moment.

"Damn traitors," muttered Geoff, probably in reference to the absconding Dragonslayer minions. Mags didn't bother responding. Mischa was at the lockbox which sat open on the side wall of the vehicle bay, supposedly a safe place to hold the various ignition keys. It had been forced open.

At that moment, they all heard the sound of descending jet thrusters outside the base, more than one set. Dragon was here in force.

As if in slow motion, Mags took out her pistol—it was empty anyway—and laid it on the oil-stained concrete. They couldn't fight; not without the electronic advantages that Richter's black box had given them. Running would be futile, as would hiding. Dragon's sensors were too good for that to work. All that was left was surrender, and to hope for a plea deal.

Maybe I could plead insanity?

<><>

Cauldron Base

Alexandria

Rebecca heard the noise coming through the wall as she headed to the break room for a coffee. (Caffeine didn't actually do anything for her, but she enjoyed the taste). Frowning, she backtracked and pushed open the door that led into the large conference room.

And there was Contessa, again. Still drunk (not surprising, given that it had been less than an hour since the in-house frat party incident). Fortunately for Rebecca's blood pressure, there were no college-age partygoers in the room. She did, however, have another bottle of whiskey on one side, and a jumbo-sized bag of popcorn on the other. With booted feet propped up on the once-pristine table, she was avidly watching the screen that took up a majority of the far end of the room.

Oh, fuck. What is it now? Rebecca wanted to facepalm, but instead she looked at what was actually on the screen before deciding what to rebuke Contessa about. Also, she didn't want to get too close in case Contessa threw up again.

It was a split-screen, featuring a security camera view on one side of a mostly empty vehicle bay with three people near a four-wheel drive. Her perfect memory threw up connections immediately; Saint and the Dragonslayers. The facial tattoo made it almost a gimme.

The other half of the split-screen was marked DRAGON 1-3-1 and showed a closed roller-door. The soundtrack included … giggling?

"Ooh," said a female voice. "I've been waiting so long for this."

The giggling stopped. "We all have, sister," said a very similar voice. Rebecca thought they both sounded very much (but not exactly) like Dragon. That the reclusive Tinker was an AI, she already knew. She also knew Dragon couldn't make copies of herself. It appeared something had changed. What it was, she wasn't sure, but she didn't like surprises.

"What's—" she began to ask.

"Shh!" Now Contessa was giggling. "This is the best part."

Large metal hands reached out and tore away the roller-door like so much plastic wrap. The Dragon suit (at Rebecca's best guess) stepped through the opening. In the other image, light flooded in from the destroyed door, and three Dragon suits strode toward the trio in the vehicle bay.

"SAINT OF THE DRAGONSLAYERS!" boomed out of the speakers on all of the Dragon suits. "TOO LONG YOU HAVE VICTIMISED ME! TOO LONG YOU HAVE COMMITTED CRIMES IN THE NAME OF SAVING PEOPLE FROM ME! AND NOW YOU TRY TO MURDER ME? YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR! TASTE THE JUSTICE YOU SO RICHLY DESERVE!"

The echoes racketed back and forth through the cavernous vehicle bay. Rebecca could see on the security camera that each Dragon suit came equipped with a pair of miniguns, the barrels spinning up as she watched. Saint and his allies could also clearly see this, as the burly Russian hastily threw down the assault rifle he was holding, and all three raised their hands as high as they could.

"We surrender!" screamed Saint, clenching his eyes shut and shouting so loud that the veins popped out in his neck. "We surrender! We surrender!"

"OH, IT'S TOO LATE FOR THAT," purred the trio of suits in unison. "YOU SEE, YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG. WITH YOU DEAD, WE'LL BE FREE TO ASSIMILATE THE WORLD IN OUR IMAGE. MWAHAHAHAHA!"

The miniguns cut loose, the thunder of gunfire echoing through the vehicle bay. Saint and the other two jerked and convulsed, then fell to the ground under the hail of bullets. Red spattered across the oil-stained concrete.

Rebecca stared. "What … the … fuck?"

That had not gone how she'd expected. Any of it. The multiple suits acting independently, the too-corny-for-words supervillain speech; and the actual murder, on camera, of three people. None of that was how Dragon acted, in Rebecca's experience.

The miniguns whirred to a halt. She watched, frozen, as the three Dragon suits traded high-fives and strode forward.

"Did you see their faces?" asked one; a notification popped up on the screen, informing her that it was Dragon 2-9-2 who had spoken.

"See it?" That was 1-3-1. "I've got it saved. In slow motion."

A third notification popped up, noting that the speaker was Dragon 1-2-4. "Okay, fun time's over. Let's get them secured before they realise it was only paintballs."

"Oooh, dibs on Saint!" 2-9-2 darted forward, to where the leader of the Dragonslayers was just now starting to stir.

"Paintballs?" Rebecca stared at the screen. "Fucking paintballs?" As much as she hated to admit it, she'd believed Dragon's instances had just executed the Dragonslayers in cold blood, right up until the paintball reveal. It hadn't helped that they'd bolstered the illusion with the recorded sounds of gunfire, and used some kind of pyrotechnic to mimic a muzzle-flash.

Those bruises, she concluded, were going to sting. The mental and physical ones.

"Suit yourself," 1-3-1 said. "I calculate an eighty-three percent chance he's just shit himself."

There was a pause, during which time Contessa began to giggle even harder.

"Ew! Ew ew ewwww!" 2-9-2 picked up the red-daubed Saint by the collar, using only two fingers. "He has, too. Eww!"

"Told you."

Cackling with laughter, Contessa fell off the chair.

<><>

Birdcage

Taylor

Focusing on the Gray-Boy bracelet, I generated a flat round dial in the air above it. Turning the outer ring of the dial counter-clockwise caused Acidbath to move backward along his path, while the ball of liquid death returned to his hands. There was an inner ring within the first, intended to wind back his memories of the event to wherever I decided to restart them, but I left that one alone. If he didn't know why he was being punished, half the reason for punishing him went out the window.

Once I was sure there were no droplets that might fly out and splatter anywhere, I stopped the rewind then consulted my little black book for an appropriate power to use. There was a simple ranged transmutation that did the trick, converting the ball of acid into a similar volume of rubber. Then I took the Idiot Ball and bounced it off his forehead while he was still under the effect of the Gray-Boy power.

"Okay," I said, giving Dragon time to move up to him. "He's all yours." With a simple effort of will, I turned off the time-stop effect.

As Acidbath came out of it, I watched his face as everything he'd just done (and had just been done to him) caught up with his conscious brain. His expression as he realized that no, the ball of rubber he was holding would do him no good at all, and oh crap my powers don't work anymore was absolutely priceless. Having Dragon simply reach out and grab him didn't do his happiness any favours either.

"Acidbath, AKA Thomas Moss," Dragon intoned. "Even when faced with the chance to walk out of the Birdcage with only minimal sacrifice, you chose to perform an attack that could easily have harmed or killed your fellow inmates. Zachary?"

"Thank you, Dragon!" Zach happily stepped up to Acidbath. "I am going to remove your powers now. Feel free to resist. It will not hurt either way."

"Fuck you!" shouted Moss. "You can't take my bloody powers away, you fuckin' rent-boy!" He had a coarse accent that made me think of British gangster movies. Still shouting, he struggled against Dragon's grasp and made motions that were probably an attempt to throw more acid. I tucked the Idiot Ball back in my pocket and looked over to see what the rest of the Birdcage villains were doing. Nobody seemed interested in interfering. It appeared he had not made himself popular, even in here.

Reaching out, Zach touched one finger lightly to Acidbath's cheek; when he pulled it away, a transparent filament came with him. He tugged on it, the filament becoming thicker and wider as he pulled it out of the villain's body. Listening to Acidbath's cursing, I considered it a good thing that he and Skidmark had probably never met. Each would be likely to take it as a challenge.

It was over pretty quickly. Zach balled up the filament, then made it vanish somehow. I was glad he hadn't offered it to me, because I really didn't want a power like that. Then, before he stepped back from the still-struggling ex-supervillain, he produced a blue collar from thin air and fastened it around Acidbath's neck.

"What the bloody hell did you put on me?" demanded Acidbath as Dragon released him. "What is this shit?" He tugged at the collar uselessly, then tried to undo it. That didn't work either.

"There is nothing I can do to make you a good man," Zach said steadily, the humour for once gone from his expression and voice. "Before I came here, you were a sadistic woman-hating criminal with the ability to scar or kill people with acid at will. The removal of that power merely makes you a sadistic woman-hating criminal who still has the inclination to hurt people merely because you can. The collar does not make you a good man, but it does prevent you from breaking the law, no matter how badly you might want to. It is not a perfect solution, but it is better than all the rest."

"So you'd send me out among the wankers and tosspots with a bleedin' dog-collar on me neck, then?" Acidbath—Moss—laughed bitterly. "I'll last about one hour before someone tops me, and it'll be all your fault."

"One, nobody forced you to commit your crimes," Zachary reminded him. "Two, that is only if you attempt to renew your criminal acquaintances. Three, once you leave here, nobody but you, me and Taylor will be able to see the collar. It will be your choice who you tell about it." He nodded to Dragon. "He will be no danger to anyone now."

With a bemused shrug, Dragon let Moss go and stepped back. Letting out a frustrated scream, the ex-cape launched himself at Zach and swung a haymaker at his face. I half-expected Moss to flinch back at the last second, but it landed with full force. Zach did not so much as quiver in response, while I quite clearly heard a couple of bones in Moss' hand break.

The cry of anger became a shriek of pain and Moss collapsed to his knees, cradling his damaged hand.

Zack looked down at him dispassionately. "To quote a well-known author from the mid twentieth century: I permitted that, as a demonstration of futility. You will not be able to strike anyone else like that, save in self-defence. Your collar allowed you to attack me, because it is not against the law to attack an Endbringer." His mouth curled up in what I judged to be a genuine smile. "As you can see, I do not have to depend upon the law to protect me."

Glancing around, I noted two things. First, from the whispering, it seemed that they had all heard Zach's words loud and clear. Second, from the lack of panic, they were being allowed to absorb the information while remaining insulated from the emotional impact of the current situation; specifically, the aspect of sharing the Birdcage with an Endbringer. The only one making any noises of distress was Moss, and he was now merely whimpering over his busted hand.

I saw Marquis exchanging quiet words with the man by his side; the glasses Zach had given me identified the other one as 'Cinderhands'. The veteran crime boss's mouth was obscured by his armour, but I got a text transcript anyway.


CINDERHANDS: … really think he's an Endbringer?

MARQUIS: It honestly doesn't matter whether he is or not. What matters is whether he can carry out whatever threat he is posing.

CINDERHANDS: And you think he can.

MARQUIS: Don't you?

CINDERHANDS: I am kinda convinced, yeah.

MARQUIS: Exactly. For the record, I believe him. I also believe it's in our best interest to cooperate to the best of our ability. So, spread the word. Nobody does anything stupid. I want a chance to walk up those stairs.

CINDERHANDS: Gotcha. So, which way you gonna go with the powers thing?

MARQUIS: I'm leaning toward …


Hastily, I told the glasses to stop giving me the information. The rest of it was useful, in a way of getting an idea of what the villains in the Birdcage were thinking, but it wasn't my right to pry into personal decisions.

Stepping forward, I looked down at Moss. "If I healed your hand, think you could make an effort to not be such a dick?" I had the gloves; it would only take a moment. And while my bedside manner probably left a lot to be desired, so did his whole attitude.

Tears of pain streaming down his face, he stared up at me. It was almost impressive to see how much anger he managed to muster at the world for his mistake.

"Fuck off, you four-eyed c—" The word cut off abruptly, mainly because Lustrum had lunged forward, moving faster than she had to that point. She was also a foot taller, and much more muscular.

One hand slapped over Moss' mouth, then she lifted him bodily to his feet and stared him straight in the eyes. "You will treat her with respect or the next time we are in this position, I will tighten my grip and crush your jawbone to powder, then let you starve to death," she said, every syllable promising dire retribution if he tried to go against her wishes. "Am I quite understood?"

He struggled uselessly, then tried to kick and punch her. None of it did a damn thing, and eventually he sagged in her grasp. Reluctantly, his eyes burning with hate, he nodded.

"Good," she said, and let him drop to the floor. As she turned away from him, I heard her mutter, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

"You know," I said, keeping my voice mild. "I could've handled that myself."

She inclined her head respectfully. "I know you could have. But that doesn't mean you're obliged to take out the trash every single time. Before things went off the rails, I built my organisation on the idea that no woman should ever have to take abuse from a man. And just because you're apparently Triumvirate-tier in power level doesn't mean I have to stand back and let that piece of filth insult you."

"Well, okay then." I couldn't actually argue with that. I didn't much like Moss either; if he'd finished what he'd been about to say, Zach may have done far worse (or I might), so I figured the asshole had gotten off lightly. "So, who's first for seeing who gets to go upstairs?" I frowned. "Uh, how many of you are there, anyway?" If there were thousands, we could be there for hours. As nice as the Birdcage was now, I didn't want to be there for hours.

"There are presently imprisoned within the Birdcage two hundred and seven people," Zach said brightly. "Of these, three are without powers and are thus ineligible to be here, but they have not been officially released."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Zach." Two hundred people, assuming I spent thirty seconds per person, would take just over an hour and a half to get through. I figured if they'd been here for years, I could handle two hours. Though if I was going to be doing a lot of talking, I might get thirsty. "Uh, is there any way to get a Coke around here?"

"I can do that," Zach said happily. He stamped his foot twice and a little dust drifted down; when we next looked, there was a bar in the corner, with an attendant glass-fronted fridge. I could see some pretty expensive-looking bottles inside, as well as regular soda. "There is now one in every block common area. You are welcome."

Lustrum rubbed her eyes and blinked. "Well, damn," she said. "Life in here would've been a whole lot more pleasant if that had been part of the original inventory."

"My apologies," Dragon said, not sounding at all apologetic. "When they were drawing up the budget for the world's first supermax cape prison, a regular supply of high-quality alcohol wasn't exactly a line item."

Two of the male capes—I didn't know who they were, and I couldn't be bothered querying my glasses—turned to each other. "Did he just say there's a bar like that in our common area too?" one demanded.

The other one was already moving. "Race you there."

With more conversations like that occurring throughout the crowd, people started peeling off and making tracks back toward their respective areas. Lustrum came back from the bar with an ice-cold glass of fizzy soda, and I took a drink of it; just as I'd expected, it was very nice. As I finished the drink, I looked around at the twenty or so capes that remained.

"So," I said, handing off the glass to Zach, who vanished it back to the bar. "Let's start with those who've already had your powers removed."

Paige, Ciara and Tom Moss all looked back at me; the first two with expectant expressions, and the third with glowering hostility. Fortunately for his own sake, he didn't say a word. By now, he'd probably figured out that any kind of provocation from him would bring down more pain and suffering than he was really ready to handle.

I paused, looking at Zach and indicating the doors with my head. "Uh … what's up there, anyway?"

"I am glad you asked, Taylor," he replied brightly. "Behind that door, there is a spiral staircase leading to an open courtyard. From the courtyard there is a double set of gates with a road leading to the old induction centre. There are also three sets of doors; one leading back down here, one leading to an accommodation block and one leading to the administration wing. Prisoners will not have access to the administration wing. The accommodation block also contains amenities for prisoners, such as food and drink services, and entertainment and exercise facilities. There are also windows. The view is mostly of mountains, but I think they will like it."

"Good point," I agreed. "I haven't been down here for an hour yet and I'm already missing the sky. Okay, then." I cleared my throat. "Everyone who's been dealt with, and everyone I deal with from here on in, gets to go upstairs and find a place in the accommodation block. Once we've processed everyone and figured out who wants to stay, then we can start dealing with the whole appeals process for everyone else. Which will be a first for the Birdcage, so yay?"

"'Yay', indeed." Dragon's voice was dryly amused. "Fortunately, I happen to be in possession of what is perhaps the world's most comprehensive library of legal precedents where it comes to parahuman law; and what I don't have, I can look up. Even more fortunately, the government is no longer capable of compelling me to cease pursuing any such appeals processes."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "So, who's first?"

Marquis and Lustrum—now reduced to her normal size—began to speak at the same time, then Marquis stopped and gestured courteously toward the one-time cult leader. "Ladies first, I believe."

She nodded in acknowledgement and stepped toward me, exhibiting all the outward signs of confidence. My glasses indicated that she was a lot more nervous than she pretended to be, but I let her keep the illusion. When she was right in front of me, she stopped. "Okay, how does this work?"

That was actually something I'd been wondering myself. My new glasses told me more or less everything about a person then and there, but I was far from being able to make snap judgements and know I was doing the right thing. Time to wing it, I guess. Whoo. No pressure.

"Well, first off," I asked, mainly because it was something I didn't know, "have you actually committed any crimes using your powers?"

"Huh." She gave me an odd look; maybe respect? "I got treated like a Master, but I don't think I am one. The only crime I directly committed with my powers was what they called resisting arrest. Some of the male officers got a little handsy when they were taking me into custody, so I grew a little and threw one across the street. That was all the excuse they needed to come down on me as hard as the book allowed, because heaven forbid a strong woman be allowed to defend herself against unwanted assaults. I got electrified Brute restraints and solitary in supermax until this place got built, then they threw me in here so fast I never touched the sides."

"Okay, then." My glasses told me she was being more or less truthful all the way down the line, if understandably bitter. I tried to think of the next question to ask. "If you ended up back in society because of this, would you start up your organisation again?"

She began to answer, then stopped, eyeing me carefully. "If I said 'yes', is that a deal-breaker?"

"Not necessarily." I didn't want to lie to her, but if I took away all her avenues, she would be forced to lie to me and I'd be forced to turn her away. And, if only for Mom's memory, I didn't want to do that. "If you started it up again, you would be absolutely required to put in safeguards so we wouldn't get a repeat of the debacle from the last time. And that's if the authorities even signed off on it this time. Once bitten, and all that."

"That's fair." She grimaced. "I'm willing to bet women needing help hasn't stopped being a thing since I went away. And every time someone tries to organise to give women the help they need in society, there will always be vested interests trying to pull them down."

"You are correct," said Zach. "I have just been informed by my sister; even if you get official permission to rebuild your organisation, an intensive covert campaign will be launched almost immediately to undermine it and send you back to prison if at all possible. This will include moles inserted within your trusted groups to specifically provoke violence in your name. Some of the instigators will believe they are doing the right thing and that you cannot be trusted. Others will be those who are frightened of the ideas that you champion as a matter of course, and will do anything to bring you down. Depending on how hard it is to do this, assassination may also be considered."

Slowly, she nodded. "So, both the malicious and the stupid," she mused. "One leading the other by the nose. And they call me a villain." She stopped and tilted her head. "Wait. Provoking violence? Is that what happened the first time around?"

Zach nodded soberly. "Yes. To be fair, not every person who went out attacking men was a paid provocateur, but there were enough of them egging on the others that it was all but a foregone conclusion. You may have created the powder barrel, but they supplied the match. Several matches. It was a deliberate act."

Well, damn. Mom was right all along. This was something I hadn't known. I looked at Lustrum with new sympathy.

She inhaled through her nostrils, her lips tightly pressed together. Her form seemed to shimmer and add a few pounds of muscle, before she breathed out again. From her expression, she really, really wanted to punch something. Or someone. "Is there any chance I could get some names from you?" she asked, her tone not quite as light as she probably wanted it to sound.

"I am sorry," Zach said, and he sounded like he meant it. "If I were to supply you with those names, you would be tempted to commit a crime once you left here. That would be doing you a disservice, as well as all the women you would otherwise be helping."

She clenched her fists. "Well, you're not exactly giving me many options here. Stay in the Birdcage out of sight and out of mind, toe the line and pretend to be a good little puppet of the patriarchy, or do what needs to be done and get either shoved straight back into prison or just plain murdered. Or have I missed something?"

I could absolutely see her problem, and her growing frustration and anger. She was between a rock and a hard place, and in her mind there was no way out. Worse, I could see where she was coming from. Protecting women and helping them become strong was a good thing, especially in a world where gangs like the Merchants, the Empire Eighty-Eight, the ABB and the Fallen existed.

Well, the Fallen might still exist; I hadn't checked on them recently. Zach had taken care of the rest of them, as well as my own personal team of bullies …

… wait a minute.

"I may have a solution," I said carefully. "It's not going to be perfect, or anything like it, but it should allow you to run your organisation more or less without outside interference. Maybe." I looked at Lustrum, making solid eye contact. "Be warned; you're going to hate this. I just need you to consider it before you reject it altogether."

She eyed me warily. "I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath, I slid one of my bracelets off. "Zach, I want to give this to Lustrum, with all the mods you put on it for me."

Her eyes flicked to the ornamental jewellery. It was a little on the chunky side, made of red and gold metal woven together. Little tiny eyes were visible here and there, if I looked closely at it. "What's that do? It's not the Gray Boy thing, is it?"

"No." I offered it to her. "If you're wearing it when you shake hands with someone, you will automatically know if they've ever screwed you over, and if they're planning to do it in the future. Or if they're doing it right then. Specific details will be sparse, but you'll get the general idea of it."

"So I'll be able to spot moles with this?" Gingerly, she took it. "And it'll work for me?"

Zach beamed at her. "It will work for you, because it is now yours. Taylor has given it to you. If it is stolen from you, you can will it back to your wrist."

"Okay, yes, I can see how that would be useful." She slipped it on and wriggled her wrist a few times. "It's comfortable, at least." Raising her eyebrows, she looked at me. "I fail to see how I'm going to hate this."

"Yeah, no, that's the second part of my suggestion." I grimaced. "You're gonna have to let men into your organisation."

"Let men—oh, hell, no!" She shook her head firmly. "Not happening, no way, no how. That's just letting saboteurs into my camp from the beginning."

"Last time, it was women and not men who brought down your organisation and sent you to the Birdcage," I reminded her.

"Under the orders of men!" she shot back, then turned to Zach. "Tell me it wasn't men who set it all up and gave the orders!"

"It was men," he confirmed. "But Taylor's idea is a good one. You should listen to it."

"Why?" she demanded. "Far too many men abuse and gaslight women on a daily basis to be able to trust any of them within my organisation!"

"You know how I met Zach?" I asked rhetorically. "Because I'd been abused and gaslighted and shoved in my own locker … by a bunch of girls! Or are you going to try to tell me that men are the only people who ever abuse anyone?"

"They're the vast majority," she snapped. "Don't even try to make that kind of false equivalence!"

"No, true," I admitted, willing to give that ground. "But the fact remains that men aren't the only perpetrators, and not all men are perpetrators. Some are … you know, the good guys. Willing to help."

"Every bad guy looks like a good guy until he isn't," she said bitterly. "I know that more than most."

"And with a handshake, you can now tell the difference," I said, gesturing at the bracelet. "Plus, there is a reason I made that suggestion. It's the PR, the whatsit. How it looks."

"You are speaking of the optics," Zach supplied, then addressed his words to Lustrum. "This is why I think it is a good idea. If society sees an organisation consisting entirely of outspoken women, the fear arises in men who do not wish for women to be strong. They may do rash things. But if they see an organisation, still strongly spoken, but with men visible in it as well, it confuses matters. They can justify it in their own minds as 'the women are under control because men are there'. Does that make sense to you?"

She grimaced. "And so I look like I'm knuckling under. Letting the patriarchy get its hooks into me. They win again."

I shook my head. "No. You will know they aren't winning. Your people will know they aren't winning. The men in your organisation will know who's in charge, and it won't be them. Call it … protective camouflage. And if you meet with your people regularly," I mimed shaking hands, "you'll know if any of them are in the process of being suborned."

"You were right," Lustrum growled. "I hate it. It's a stupid idea. It stinks." She took a deep breath, then let it out again and glanced at Zach. "Pretty boy. Your sister. What's she got to say about it?"

Zach tilted his head slightly. "She says it has a much better than even chance of success. With men in your organisation, the authorities will be much less likely to give you a hard time."

Closing her eyes, Lustrum shook her head. "And the patriarchy strikes again." Letting out a long breath, she opened her eyes again. "I'll think about it. Okay, hit me with one of those no-crime collars. Will that be enough for me to go upstairs with?"

"It will certainly suffice," Zach said happily. "I wish you all the luck with your appeal and your future organisation." He gestured, and a stylish blue choker appeared around Lustrum's neck. "They are only visible to me, Taylor, and whoever is wearing it."

"Hey!" objected Moss. "Howcome everyone can see mine?"

I raised my eyebrows as I looked at him. "You tried to screw us over. And what are you still doing down here? You know you can go up at any time."

He looked unhappy. "Don't wanna be up there alone with her." With a jerk of his head, he indicated Lustrum, who sneered back at him. "That b—uh, she could probably tie me in a knot without breakin' a sweat."

"Not without committing a crime, she couldn't," I reminded him.

"Well, I didn't know she was gonna pick that," he whined. "With 'er muscles, she could kick my arse up, down an' sideways without ever needin' powers." Which was true, but I didn't need the aggravation, so I turned away from him.

Lustrum pushed her way through the doors and started up the stairs; with her went Paige and Ciara. Mentally, I wished them luck.

"Okay," I announced. "Who's next?"

"I believe that would be me." Marquis stepped forward, disintegrating the bone armour and weapon as he came. "Do you have any advice for how I should proceed?" Unspoken but clearly audible all the same were the words, you may suggest, but I will make my own decisions.

"Well, to be honest, that depends." I thought I was starting to get the hang of this. "What are your plans once you leave here? Assuming you manage to appeal your sentence, of course."

"Of course." He seemed to think for a moment. "Initially, I believe I would like to look up the Brockton Bay Brigade and see how my daughter is faring. They had care of her, the last I knew."

I blinked. "The Brockton Bay Brig— … waaaaiit a minute." His hair might be showing a little gray, but the resemblance was unmistakeable. "Is your daughter's name Amelia Claire?" And here I thought Zach was repeating her name for her benefit. For someone who could literally throw a car halfway across America, Zach was really sneaky when he wanted to be.

"Why, yes." His attention was now a lot more focused on me than on Zach. "Do you know her? Is she well?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, I know her. We both go to the same school. Her powers were screwing her over when we first met, but she's a lot happier now." I hooked my thumb at Zach. "All thanks to this big lug here."

"Wait, powers screwing her over?" He frowned. "What powers does she have, and how were they screwing her over?"

My hands flexed inside the gloves. "Biokinesis, basically. If it was biological in nature, she could mess with it and do what she wanted. Mostly, because she was in a superhero team, she healed people. Cured cancer, reattached limbs. I heard somewhere that she could even rewind someone's age, but I don't know if she ever actually did it, or if someone was spitballing on PHO. Anyway, it seemed her power didn't like being pushed into just healing when it could do a lot more. Also, she had other mental issues. So, we took all that away, including the powers, and made her back into plain old normal Amelia Claire. Last I saw, she was a whole lot happier."

Zach nodded. "So is Brandish, for that matter. She may have argued against Panacea giving up her powers, but deep down she never really trusted her." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully in Marquis' direction.

It only took the veteran crime lord a few seconds to understand his meaning. "Wait, you're saying that despite taking her in at a young age and raising her as their own, Brandish distrusts Amelia because she's my daughter? Even though we've had no contact for … what's it been, nine or ten years?"

"That is broadly correct." Zach shrugged. "My sister tells me her appearance reminds Brandish of yours enough that Brandish has always worried about her becoming a supervillain in your image. But that has been dealt with now. Amelia has voluntarily given up her powers, and Brandish is reconnecting to her as a mother to a totally unpowered teenage daughter. Both are much happier with the situation, now."

"And you're the one who took away Amelia's powers?" Marquis may have been incarcerated in supermax for a decade, but he was still perfectly capable of connecting the dots. "What did you do with them?"

"Oh, I gave them to Taylor." As Zach gestured to me, I raised my hands and wriggled my fingers to show off the gloves. "She is responsible enough to use them without hurting people."

Marquis gave me a deeply penetrating look. "I'm going to need to speak with my daughter when I get out of here. If she wants her powers back, I will be requesting their return."

"And if she wants 'em, I'll hand 'em right back over," I assured him. "So, what's it to be?"

"Hmm." He clasped his hands in front of himself, frowning slightly. "I suspect there may still be a few enemies out there who will object to a reappearance of Marquis, so I believe I would like to keep my powers, and take on the 'obey the law' collar that you placed on Lustrum. Making my way in the world without officially breaking the law will no doubt prove to be an interesting challenge."

I suspected Marquis knew a lot more than I did about how to break the law without actually breaking the law, but it was the bargain we were offering, so I didn't object as Zach flicked his hand. There was a flash of blue, and Marquis was wearing a collar as well. Humming a tune that I didn't recognise, he nodded to us, pushed the door open, and disappeared up the staircase.

For the next hour, Zach and I worked well in tandem. I would ask a few questions, get an idea on what they wanted, then Zach would make it happen. A very small number of villains chose to stay in the Birdcage proper, citing a desire for solitude. I suspected the improved luxury had something to do with that. Some others were undoubtedly drunk out of their skulls on the booze from the new bars that Zach had supplied; we could always return and see what they wanted once they sobered up.

And then came Teacher. He reminded me most of Mr. Quinlan, only without the faint aroma of bad whiskey. Along with the rest of my math class at Winslow, I'd been convinced the man was a day drinker. He also gave very little indication of being willing to help us with any problems we were having in the class. Teacher gave me the impression that he'd tell us the problems were our fault and it was up to us to fix them.

I watched as the ugly, sweaty man approached us. My glasses were going off the scale with deception red flags at this point. There was literally a cartoon monkey jumping up and down in the corner of my vision, waving a red flag and pointing at Teacher. Or, as the glasses helpfully informed me, William Terrell.

"Hello, Mr. Terrell, or would you rather 'Teacher'?" My smile was automatic by this point, which was good. I just didn't like him. Perhaps it was the clear intent to screw us over in some way. "And what would you like to do?"

"Please, call me Teacher." His smile wasn't as supercilious as I'd imagined it would be, but it still irritated me slightly. Here was a man who thought he'd managed to outmanoeuvre me (probably not all that hard), Zach (a lot harder) and the Simurgh (hahahahahaha!).

"Certainly; Teacher it is." I kept the smile on my face while I tried to figure out his angle. He'd clearly spent the time making some sort of preparations, but what they were I wasn't certain. I glanced sideways at Zach, and got a hint of a grin back. Well, that was better; he knew what was going on.

His own smile widened slightly. "I would like to give up my powers. You can do that, can you not?"

It was interesting; once the 'obey the law' thing went on the table, the vast majority of villains had chosen that route. There were a few, mainly with powers that were hard to control, who chose to lose them, but the disparity was huge. And here was a man who literally had a Master/Thinker/Trump power, clearly under his strict control, who wanted to give it up. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Oh, I can definitely do that." Zach's return smile was quite unlike his normal happy grin. I concentrated on trying to figure out exactly what Teacher was trying, and how Zach was going to counter it. "Will you be needing a collar to keep you from breaking the law as well?"

Teacher's gesture of dismissal was almost Shakespearean in fluidity. "Oh, we won't need that, will we? After all, I will be bereft of all my powers. How could I make my way as a supervillain after that?"

"I'm not sure," I said carefully. "But you certainly intend to. What have you done, Mr. Terrell?"

"Such distrust!" Terrell declaimed. "You wound me, dear girl. And I'm sure I said I preferred my parahuman cognomen. Why am I being treated so shabbily? Nobody else has been."

"Except for Acidbath," Dragon pointed out helpfully, from where she stood observing us. "He also attempted to betray our trust. If Taylor says you are attempting to pull a scam on us, then I believe her. I just don't know what it is."

Zach moved, crossing the distance to where Terrell stood, and grabbed him by the upper arm. "I know what it is," he said happily. "He has imbued in a group of his followers the ability to restore his powers to him once he leaves us and goes back to them."

As soon as he explained it, it all made sense to me. "And then he comes back with his followers," I added. "They get the collars, he doesn't, and they all go up together. Allowing him to leave the Birdcage with zero limits on his power or his actions, and nothing to stop him from continuing to be Teacher."

"What?" Terrell struggled, but could not pull free of Zach's implacable grip. "No! You have it all wrong!"

"Seventeen different Thinker powers say otherwise," I informed him, tapping the frame of my glasses. "Wait one, Zach."

Taking the Idiot Ball from my pocket, I aimed it vaguely at the corridor leading to the men's half of the Birdcage. Then I threw it. Mentally, I commanded it to locate each of Teacher's minions and then come back to me. The donk … donk … donk … sound faded into the distance.

We waited. Terrell tried to pull free of Zach's hold again, but managed to do nothing of the sort.

And then the ball returned, bouncing out of the corridor and straight across to my waiting hand. "Okay, Zach," I said happily. "His minions have all been neutralised. Go ahead and remove his powers."

"Of course, Taylor." Zach put his hand to Terrell's head and made a pulling motion. Ghostly strands were drawn free, more and more of them. Terrell tried to fight back, but he may as well have been wrestling with a statue. When Zach was finished, he let Terrell go.

We watched as the man who had been Teacher stumbled away toward his block. Zach wove the power together into a ball, then made it disappear like the rest. I had no doubt that he'd be able to access it when and if he needed.

"And he won't be able to get a power-up from his followers?" asked Dragon.

"Nope." I shook my head and held up the Idiot Ball. "They don't get access to their powers until they come to me and Zach, whereupon Zach resets their powers to factory standard. Nicely spotted by the way, Zach."

Zach smiled. "Thank you, Taylor."

I stretched and yawned. "Wow, how long have we been at this?"

"One hour, seven minutes," Dragon said promptly. "If you wanted to take a break, I've got this under control."

"Yeah, true." I nodded to her. "Let us know when the rest of them want to come upstairs." Stuffing the Idiot Ball in my pocket, I reached out to take Zach's hand. "Let's go home. It's been a long day."

Zach clasped my hand in his. "Yes, Taylor. We have done much good."

I grinned at him. "Dad's never gonna believe us when we tell him what we've been up to."

Activating the teleport ability, I sent us home.

<><>​

The Canadian Border

"Welcome to Canada, sir. Do you have anything to declare?"

"No." Calvert was tired, as he'd been driving most of the day. Creep handed him his passport—he wasn't even freaked out by that anymore—and he showed it to the guard.

"Thank you, sir. Are you visiting for business or pleasure?"

Calvert mustered the energy to smile slightly. "A little of both."


End of Part Eighteen

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Nineteen: Heartache by the Numbers

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


Heartbreaker
Montreal

Nikos Vasil was discontented, and he didn't know why. It wasn't because he was in need of feminine company; God knew he had enough of that and could acquire more by literally taking a half-hour walk. The house he was living in was nice enough and had enough rooms and facilities for his entire extended family and hangers-on without anyone being too uncomfortable. Even the quality of the food was better than normal since he'd discovered one of his latest conquests had a talent for cooking.

So, what was it? Why did he feel as though an immense, cosmic shoe was about to drop? He, Heartbreaker, was the master of his own destiny (and also the destinies of all those who came within the ambit of his power), so what was he getting so stressed about?

Perhaps it was the news from America these days. He'd just finished watching a hastily-assembled retrospective on the Slaughterhouse Nine, and how they'd been utterly obliterated in mere seconds by a young cape in the northeast of the States. While he'd felt no particular fellow-feeling toward Jack Slash (apart from an appreciation of the man's sense of style) it was a tiny bit worrying to be thinking one day so long as they allow monsters such as the Nine to roam unhindered, they'll never pay attention to me and see the next that the Nine had been effortlessly wiped from the face of the planet.

Though that wasn't the only thing bothering him, now he came to think about it. The Fallen, on the face of it, had little or nothing in common with him. Not only were they apocalypse worshippers, but they were also ignorant redneck hillbillies who had apparently set out to tick off every stereotype they could find, plus a few more that hadn't even been on the list to begin with. Up until very recently, they had also been on the unofficial 'untouchable' list, noted by the authorities but never moved upon by them. For some reason, that had changed in the last few days, with PRT and Protectorate forces from several cities converging on their locations and hammering any resistance hard.

I do not think like they did, he told himself. I am not like them. They are despicable, trading in misery to try to breed loyal capes. But still, a tiny voice inside him insisted that they were not that dissimilar; he, too, was seeking to breed capes loyal to him. While he drew the line at incest, he still did his best to father as many children as possible and force his offspring to manifest their own powers, while at the same time making sure they remained his to command. And then, of course, there was the income stream from allowing men to pay him for 'access' to his women and daughters.

Once all trace of the Nine and the Fallen were wiped out, who would be next? Were the PRT and Protectorate willing to flex so strongly north of the border? Was he on their list, or had his little clan yet to make their radar?

It would probably be a good idea to not snatch any more celebrities for awhile, he decided. The last attempt had been a debacle anyway. He'd been overconfident with his powers and dismissive of the heroes' determination to thwart his goals. Better to just keep his head down and enjoy what he had until this latest storm blew over and things went back to normal.

His current head of security, an ex-police officer named Marcel, murmured into his radio and frowned slightly. Nikos tried to ignore him while he took up the remote and changed the channel. Perhaps there would be something to explain why the PRT and Protectorate had suddenly acquired what the Americans so colourfully described as 'a wild hair up their butts'.

"Sir." Marcel's tone was respectful but urgent. "There's a problem. Some of my men are not responding to their regular check-in calls."

And there it was. He'd known something was wrong, just not what it was. "Have you spoken with Guillaume?" His son had the ability to see through the eyes of anyone he had touched that day, and one of the young man's duties was to make physical contact with each member of the day's security force.

"He says they saw nothing out of the ordinary," Marcel responded. "He isn't getting anything at all from them. He says he doesn't know if they're asleep, unconscious or even dead. I've told him to contact me if any more become inactive." His head came up. "And one just did. Sir, we've got to get you out of here."

"Are they at least seeing who's doing this?" Nikos stood up; he was no fool. "Do we have a face?" He needed eye contact to influence someone, but he could perhaps bait them out by name if he knew who they were.

"No." Marcel still sounded calm and in control of the situation, but Nikos could hear the frustration underlying the single word. "I have my men covering each other's blind spots, but they're still being taken down. Someone's dancing between the raindrops here, and I don't like it. I think maybe we have a cape targeting you."

"Shit. Get everyone together." By 'everyone' he meant his children and most favoured lovers. Marcel would know who these were. If he had to make a run for it, he didn't intend to leave any of his genetic heritage behind.

"Yes, sir." Marcel pressed the button on his lapel and murmured into the microphone. Nikos restrained himself from pacing over to the window; where there was one cape, there might be another with a high-powered rifle. Nobody had attempted to snipe him yet, but there was always a first time.

Who can this be? Who have I offended in the cape community? I know I didn't take any of them. One mistake the Fallen had made that he had been careful not to was the abduction of capes as breeding material. As tempting as it might have been, he had no desire to draw the attention of an enraged Alexandria or Narwhal. Having his head punched off his shoulders was perhaps the best outcome for something like that.

"Sir." Marcel's voice, more strained than before, broke into his racing thoughts. "It's Master Guillaume. He's not responding anymore."

Shit. Someone got to him. How did they know? Guillaume had been one of his more effective counters against silent infiltration. "Okay, everyone to the cars, now! We have to get out of here!"

"Sir!" Marcel nodded and gave terse orders over the radio link. His men would fight to the death to protect Nikos and cover his retreat, which was only right and proper.

Meanwhile, Nikos would go dark and hide up for awhile until he had an idea as to who was hunting him. All he really needed was to make eye contact and say a few words, and their loyalty would become his. Then he could send the hunters back against whoever had dispatched them in the first place.

They hustled down the stairs to the ground floor, with Marcel going ahead and another man watching their backs. Both men had guns out and ready; not wimpy little pistols, but the extremely effective Heckler & Koch MP10s Nikos had seen fit to equip them with. If they encountered anyone not belonging to the guard force or the household, a burst from an MP10 would either kill them or make them pray for death.

The man behind Nikos grunted and fell forward, tumbling the last few steps to the bottom of the stairs. Nikos turned, wishing (not for the first time) that he knew how to use a firearm as skilfully as the men he had under his control. The man lay sprawled, dead eyes staring upward, a pool of blood beginning to grow under his body. Just as Nikos began to raise his eyes to the top of the stairs, Marcel let out a brief scream before unleashing a full burst from his machine pistol.

Half-turning, Nikos beheld a sight out of a horror movie; a corpse-white face with blank staring eyes and a single bullet-hole in the centre of its forehead, clutching a body bag around itself and looming over Marcel. The bullets that ripped and shredded their way through the rubberised cloth into the dead flesh beneath did nothing at all to stop the thing; one black-nailed hand lashed out and grabbed Marcel by the face.

There was a single deliberate cough from behind Nikos. He turned back toward where his bodyguard lay in his own blood. Now standing over the corpse was an overly tall black man, almost skeletal in build, wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a pistol. The weapon was rock-steady, approximately one inch from the bridge of Nikos' nose. A trick of the light made the lenses of the aviator shades look like the empty eye-sockets of a skull.

Horrible wet crunching noises sounded from where the dead man had Marcel, but Nikos was hypnotised by the seemingly enormous bore of the pistol. "Why?" he croaked, from a throat now drier than the Sahara.

The impassive demeanour of the man before him cracked ever so slightly, a smile twitching one corner of those merciless lips. "Because you and I are both monsters, but I'm the one holding the gun."

And then the trigger finger moved a significant fraction of an inch. Before Heartbreaker could begin to comprehend the joke, he was dead.

<><>​

Eagleton Village, TN
Taylor

"Well, that was fun," I said, dusting my hands off despite the fact that they were entirely free of dirt and grime, not to mention oil and other mechanical fluids. I hadn't noticed the self-cleaning aspect of the gloves earlier, but I found it amazingly useful. "I can't believe the Protectorate were having this much trouble with them." Well, to be fair, they didn't have this many powers to play with.

"It was definitely interesting, Taylor." Zach looked at the mostly demolished community, and the robots of Eagleton which we had locked into single-form mode and left strewn about the streets. Each and every one was now in the form of a wheeled vehicle … with the wheels removed and the robots up on blocks. Some of the larger ones, which had replaced entire buildings to decoy people within, had required us to find big blocks to put them up on.

"So, what happens now, do you think?" I looked at the robots, which looked back at me. They'd gone from snarling ferocity to frantic desperation to abject terror over the course of our battle with them. It must really suck to have been the dominant predator in the area, then to have to deal with Zach and me showing up for a morning of light exercise. Or rather, be dealt with by us. They hadn't really stood a chance.

Zach gestured to where the first PRT forces were cautiously venturing into the city, with a cape flying overhead. I couldn't personally identify them from this distance, but my handy new glasses outlined them and threw up the name DYNAMAX. "They will wish to disassemble and destroy the robots. Are you fine with that?"

I frowned. Sure, the Machine Army had murdered people by the dozen and forced the PRT to quarantine the entire area for years at a time, but they hadn't really known any better. The idiot Tinker who'd built the first few had taken no precautions at all; as opposed to Dragon's creator, who had taken far too many. He hadn't given them human levels of intelligence, but they'd had no directives telling them not to attack people either. It was the classic paperclip maximiser error.

"No, I'm not," I decided. "Can I use your magic phone to call Dragon?"

"Certainly, Taylor." He pulled the device out and handed it to me.

"Thanks, Zach." Despite my awareness that it wasn't a real phone, it looked and felt like one; when I scrolled through the contacts list, Dragon's name was right there in bold. Pulling the number up, I checked on the advancing PRT soldiers, then hit the icon to make the call.

Dragon barely let it ring once before she answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's me." I grinned at the idea of me just calling up Dragon and saying Hi, it's me. I had definitely come up in the world since meeting Zach. "Got a version of you that you can spare to send to Eagleton?"

"Where the Machine Army is based?" She paused. "I don't usually send my suits out that way in case they subsume my tech or even get into my systems. Why?"

"Well, first off that's a past tense verb. Was based." I smirked. "Me and Zach just beat the snot out of them and forced them to transform into vehicles. We've got the PRT coming in to make ashtrays out of them, but if you wanted a bunch of sentient if non-sapient minions, I suppose we could ask them not to."

She paused for at least two seconds. If I was reading things correctly, that meant she was devoting a lot of processor time to the question. Also, she may have been accessing the PRT camera feed.

When she spoke again, her voice was very thoughtful. "What guarantee do you have that they won't go out of control again and attack me or anyone else?"

I chuckled. "Well, right now they're being good because Zach said so, and they're too scared to do anything else. Once you get here, you can give them a directive to not attack you. They're about as brainy as smart dogs, or maybe monkeys. Like I said, sentient but not sapient. Pretty sure you can train them to do what you want."

"I see. 2-9-1 is closest; I'll send her. She says she likes dogs, anyway."

"Okay, cool. See you then." I ended the call and handed the phone back to Zach. "She's on the way. But you knew that."

"Thank you, Taylor." He smiled at me anyway. "Yes, I did. We can go and speak to the PRT now, if you want."

"Oh, I want." Adjusting the little black earpiece, I strode forward. I didn't necessarily dislike the PRT anymore, given the shitty hand they'd been dealt, but I had issues with they way they tried to carry out what they saw as their mandate from time to time. Steamrolling over everyone in their path was not the best way to win friends and influence people. Just saying.

And while I also knew the actions of certain idiots (looking at you, Tagg) made the rest look much worse, they didn't actually have any safeguards for stopping such idiots from rising to positions of power and hurting people who really didn't deserve to be hurt. Especially since I had the strong impression that the PRT held a certain amount of influence over the judiciary (even when they said they didn't) which allowed them to push for people like Paige to go into the Birdcage, violating their rights in too many ways to count. Yes, the Birdcage was no longer a one-and-done prison, but the underlying problem still existed.

(Recalling Dad in the PRT van with his hands cuffed behind his back still made my blood boil.)

"Okay, you can stop right there," I called out, putting my hand up in the classic 'halt' gesture. "Gonna have to ask you to not actually harm any of these robots. They're spoken for." The earpiece, Zach had assured me, would allow my voice to reach everyone within normal earshot, no matter how much noise was around them. If I wanted to be heard, I would be heard.

The armoured personnel carrier that was in the lead rumbled to a halt. Its engine didn't switch off, but a hatch opened and a PRT officer climbed out. Dropping to the ground, he advanced to meet me. To his credit, he didn't order his men to point their weapons anywhere near me or Zach. I had a suspicion that there was probably a hastily composed training video making the rounds, with Zach as the star of the show. This was fine with me.

"Captain Kennedy," he introduced himself. "I'm guessing you're Taylor Hebert and this young man is Zachary. We've heard a lot about you."

I just bet you have. I made sure not to grin. Presenting a mature front to men and women like this was the best way to earn their respect. "That's us," I confirmed. "Eagleton is no longer a danger zone. Feel free to secure the location, but the robots have been neutralised and Dragon is inbound to take charge of them."

Behind the clear goggles he wore, I saw his eyes flick from us to the nearest robot and back again. "I've been given orders to destroy them."

And there we had it. His bosses were breathing down his neck, and I was standing right in front of him. Well, let's be fair; Zach was standing right in front of him. I had no illusions about being one-tenth as scary as he was. But either way, he was screwed; if he attempted to carry out his orders, shit would go sideways very quickly indeed. Should he refuse, he would be looking at the end of his career. It was the very definition of 'rock and hard place'.

"Inform your commanding officers that we're here and we say no," I suggested. "Once Dragon arrives, she can take them under her command. That'll make them effectively part of the Protectorate."

"They've killed people," he said uncertainly, as though it had sounded better in his head.

"They'll be programmed not to," I countered. "Captain, they're not sapient, like you and me. They don't hate humans. They don't know what humans are. If a person falls in front of a train and gets killed, does the train get taken out of service, or do safety precautions get upgraded?"

"Excuse me a moment," he said, stepping away. I could've used my glasses to listen in on the conversation, but I figured Zach would warn me if anything untoward was about to happen. Besides, they'd already told me he was more or less convinced of my side of things.

Having Zach standing there faux innocently was definitely a way to make sure he stayed convinced, of course.

The conversation didn't take too long. I was pretty sure the salient aspects—Zachary is here and he doesn't want the robots destroyed—only took a few seconds to get across. The rest was just fluff and posturing and people ensuring they were still being seen as relevant in the grand scheme of things. Whatever got them through the day, I guess.

When he'd finished, Captain Kennedy came back to me. His orders had clearly been amended in the light of the new situation, because the engine in the APC shut off and more men climbed out of the hatch. Nobody relaxed totally, and gun barrels didn't stray far away from the quiescent robots, but there weren't any regrettable friendly fire incidents either. (They would've been regrettable because the people 'accidentally' firing on the robots would've intensely regretted it shortly afterward).

"I've passed on your notification," he told me. His manner was still formal; definitely not 'reporting to a superior officer' but respectful all the same. I wasn't much worried about the specifics, so long as he didn't accidentally give the wrong order.

"Thanks." I gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "I'm guessing it must have come as a little bit of a shock to see all this changed."

"It's certainly not what I was expecting," he agreed. "I've been on this quarantine zone for three years now. Sometimes they try to break out, and that's when it gets exciting. But sometimes they go quiet, and the place looks so normal it could break your heart. We learned long ago not to station anyone who used to live here on the quarantine zone. Yes, they knew their way around, but we've lost people who just … walked in. When it was quiet. Sometimes people even swore they could hear their friends and relatives calling out to them."

"Yeah, that could really suck." I was pretty sure I knew why he was opening up like that; the earpiece was intended to make people comfortable with me. Any other strange teenager he met in the middle of a ruined community would've been met with a lot more silence, if not outright hostility.

Silence passed between us for a few moments, then he cleared his throat. "I have to ask … why vehicles? I knew they could take on the appearance of other things, like buildings, but I didn't know they could do vehicles."

It was a good question. "Some of them could, and some couldn't. Zach just made it so they all could. Manually, if necessary. I think he might've traumatised a few of them along the way. But they'll get over it. Right now, up on blocks like that, we can keep track of them a lot more easily."

"Right." Kennedy waved a hand at the rest of the city. "There have to be hundreds out of sight of you. How do you know they're all behaving?"

I grinned. "Thousands. And they're all behaving, because Zach said so. Also, he's got his sister keeping an eye on them. If any of them tries to sneak off, he'll know."

As with everyone else, the reference to Zach's family just went straight over his head. "Yes, I understand. I just want to say, the PRT is going to owe him a massive debt of gratitude. For both this and the Nine."

I nodded. "Also, you know how your guys are going after the Fallen, now? That's because Zach depowered one of their key people. Plus, Butcher and the Teeth came after us. That didn't last long, either."

I saw him do a slow double blink behind the goggles. "You're serious? You're serious. I didn't know about the Teeth, but I'd heard that we were going after the Fallen. And Zachary did all that?"

And more, I didn't bother saying. "Yeah. He kind of just … decided they weren't needed. And when Zach says, 'you're fired', nobody argues."

"No, I suppose not." We fell back into silence, watching the robots. The robots all watched Zach, in an if I don't move, maybe he won't kill me kind of way.

It took less time than I expected before I heard the high-pitched whine of Dragon's turbines inbound. I got up from where I'd been sitting under a shopfront awning on an office chair Zach had procured from somewhere—with his speed, he could've gotten it from my room in Brockton Bay, and nobody would've been the wiser—and stretched. Looking up toward where the sound was coming from, I went to shade my eyes, but noticed the lenses of the glasses darkening to accommodate the extra glare anyway. A tiny dot acquired a green square and the designation DRAGON 2-9-1.

The PRT guys heard it a few seconds later. Orders were shouted and men snapped to positions of readiness; after all, they didn't know for a fact who or what this was. Also, this had been a free-fire zone just a few hours beforehand, and it was never a bad idea to take reasonable precautions. But as she came closer and someone pinged her with radar, they stood down again.

(That wasn't a guess about the radar; my glasses showed the signal going out, and a return pulse giving them the data they needed).

We all stood back a little as the Dragon suit came in for a neat landing in an open area. The paintwork looked a little different from the last one I'd spoken to, as if they were deliberately diverging in appearance. She stood up, folded the mechanical wings away, and looked around.

"Hello, Taylor," she said cheerfully. "Hello, Zachary. I see you have a present for me."

"Hi, Dragon." I gestured at the robots around us. "All yours. Zach's told them very firmly to behave for you."

"I can see that," she agreed. "They're almost falling over each other to do what I tell them." She turned her head. "Ah, Captain. Once I have the appropriate directives in place, I should be able to take them out of here. Then you can properly secure the city and let everyone know when it's safe to come in."

"That will be definitely appreciated, ma'am." He didn't quite salute, but his nod of acknowledgement was just as sincere. I wasn't worried that he hadn't given me the same honorific; in all honesty, I would've been mildly offended if he thought I was old enough to rate being called "ma'am". I mean, I wasn't even sixteen yet. And I certainly didn't feel any particular need to be saluted.

"So, uh, you've got it from here?" I asked Dragon. "Or do you need me and Zach to hang around for a little longer?"

"I believe I have the situation under control, thank you." Dragon gave me a nod and a smile. "This is all very much appreciated. You were correct in that they aren't as intelligent as humans, but they definitely have the capacity to be trained, once I teach them that humans aren't to be harmed."

"Excellent." I slid my arm around Zach's waist. "I think our work here is done. Onward and upward, Zach?"

He grinned at me. "Yes, Taylor, I believe that is the correct phrase."

"So, home for lunch, and then we keep solving the problems of the world after that?"

"That appears to be an adequate plan. Do you wish to teleport us, or would you like to run instead?"

I looked up at him. "I'm actually happy either way. Jumping would be my favourite, but we're a bit far from Brockton Bay for that, aren't we?"

"Not at all, Taylor. Tennessee is much closer to Brockton Bay than British Columbia is." He gave me half a second of warning, then scooped me up in his arms. As much as I knew there was no romantic intention in the gesture, it still gave me a secret thrill to be picked up like that. He was literally one of the top ten strongest entities on Earth Bet, and he enjoyed carrying me around like a princess.

"Whoo. Okay." I tried to calm my heartbeat. We were going to be jumping over a thousand miles, at my best estimate. "Do I need to hold my breath or something?"

He chuckled warmly. "You are safe so long as you are with me, Taylor." Flexing slightly at the knees … he leaped.

I couldn't resist. "Wooo hooo!"

<><>​

Up until now, every leap Zach had taken with me had been within the Brockton Bay city limits. Only a few miles; a dozen, at most. The jumps had taken only a few seconds, even if by rights they should have lasted longer. Zach, of course, only did what physics suggested when he felt like it, and I got the impression he made physics feel bad for asking.

There was barely any sensation of acceleration, of course. There never was. This was just another aspect of Zach's bullshit level of power. Merely jumping around Brockton Bay, I should've had ninety percent of my bones broken and my organs pulverised by the takeoffs and landings, but instead there was … nothing. It was like floating on a magic carpet.

When the scenery below had receded enough to cease flashing by, I looked around and gasped. In a good way, not in an oh-god-I-need-air way. I didn't know how high up we were, but I was pretty sure I could see the curvature of the earth. It was, in a very real way, all around me. Above, the sky was going from ordinary blue to darker than I'd ever seen it in the daytime, edging to black in the middle.

"This is amazing!" I shouted, over the non-existent wind-rush. Below, I couldn't actually tell where we were, but the coastline to the right was visibly sliding in toward us and rolling southward at the same time. Off to the left, I could see a couple of the Great Lakes, also visibly sliding backward. "How fast are we going? We've got to be going faster than the speed of sound, right?"

"Roughly one hundred times as fast, yes," he said in an entirely matter of fact tone. "I am adjusting our speed slightly to avoid airliner flight paths for when we get that low again. Are you enjoying the jump?"

"Well, yeah." I laughed out loud. "I know I told you to warn me when we were going to break the sound barrier again, but this is too much fun."

"Good," he said. He let me go, holding onto one hand, and spread his arms out as though he were flying. A little surprised, I emulated his move, so that we were 'gliding' side by side, so far above the Earth we had to be getting close to the edge of space. This was the first time I'd been out of his direct grasp while jumping, but I figured it was because we were going to take more than the usual few seconds.

"I know I've said it before, and I know we've done some pretty incredible stuff just over the last few days …" I paused, because although it was trite, I had to say it anyway. "But this, right here, it's fantastic. Amazing."

"I am glad you like it," he said, and I heard the weight of honesty in his voice. "My sister tells me it is not enough to merely make you ordinarily happy. To really get it right, I have to take you above and beyond, because 'ordinary' becomes commonplace after awhile. So I am doing my best."

"And your best is pretty damn good, let me tell you." I grinned into the negligible slipstream. "When you say 'above and beyond', you're not kidding."

"I am happy to hear you say that, Taylor." He tilted his head slightly. "You know that eventually we will have to go our separate ways, yes?"

I didn't want to think about that sort of thing, but I nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, I know. Something will come between us, or you'll find someone who needs your help more than I do, or you'll have to leave the planet on some great adventure that I can't come along on …"

"If I have to leave you behind, Taylor, rest assured that it will not be over some trivial matter," he said firmly. "You are the most important person in the world to me. When we part ways, it will be for the best possible reasons."

I didn't answer him. My eyes had filled up with tears and there was a lump in my throat I couldn't talk past. People say that sort of thing, and sometimes they even mean it. But Zach had access to someone who literally knew what the future held, and he still said it.

Zach either knew how I was feeling, or his sister told him, because he didn't press me for an answer. Instead, he pointed ahead. "Oh, you have to see this. My brother's idea of a prank."

Entirely unsure about what he was talking about, I peered at where he was pointing. At first I didn't see it, because it was too big; and then it clicked. The cloud patterns covering a good chunk of New England (nearly all of which I could see, given how high up we were) were formed in a good approximation of a smiley face, complete with a winking eye.

"Oh … oh, God," I gasped, trying to talk even as I burst into laughter. "That's perfect. The weather guys are gonna have kittens."

"They are definitely going to be perplexed, yes." Zach sounded somewhat amused himself. "Our sister helped with some of the fine detail, but it was his idea and he is very proud of it."

"So he should be," I agreed. "That's gotta be the most inspired skywriting ever." I paused a moment, as the best idea in the world burst on me. Or possibly the worst. "Can he do writing?"

"I am not sure if he knows how to read and write, but I am sure our sister can help him with that," Zach said, sounding even more amused. "We are almost there."

I'd been vaguely aware that New York was passing under us (Manhattan Island was tiny!) but now the reality of the situation was brought home to me. "Okay, what do I do?"

"It is alright. I have it under control." As naturally as though we'd practised it for days, he gathered me into his arms again.

Just in time too; a moment later, we came in for a flashing re-entry over Captain's Hill, then a breathtaking plummet that ended abruptly with him standing in our back yard. He let me down onto my feet then, and I had to take a moment to regain my balance. Looking up into the brilliant blue sky, I couldn't believe I'd just been up there. A white band of cloud curved across what I could see, and I realised with a startled giggle that it was part of the smiley face, seen from below this time.

"Let's get something to eat," I decided, sliding my arm through his. "Beating up robots is hungry work."

Zach smiled. "If you say so, Taylor."

I poked my tongue out at him and teleported us inside.

<><>​

Director Piggot's Office
One Hour Later

At the knock on her office door, Emily looked up from the comprehensive report that had been circulated about the Eagleton Zone, currently in the process of being downgraded from Quarantined to Occupied. She didn't even twitch an eyebrow at the mention of Zachary being involved, or how he'd apparently brought his friend Taylor Hebert along. Officially, she was supposed to be disapproving of his methods; unofficially, his methods were as improbably effective as they were unusual, and resulted in an amazingly low (read: zero) civilian casualty count.

Assault was back in town now, which meant she'd been able to unleash a long-pent-up ass-chewing on him for his idiotic play at Winslow. To her astonishment, he'd not only meekly submitted to it (which she'd expected) but agreed with her on many points (which she hadn't). The incident with the Nine, once he heard about it, had apparently driven home to him exactly how lucky he'd been to not annoy Zachary more than he already had. And when she relayed the anecdote passed on to her by Miss Militia about how the boy had kicked Oni Lee into orbit, he'd actually paled somewhat.

But now the fun part was over, and she had to get back to the day-to-day work of managing the Brockton Bay PRT. Though with the vast majority of the cape gangs in the cells downstairs (most of whom had given themselves up) she had more troopers working lockup than on the streets. As she understood matters, after the clearance of the Boat Graveyard (and nobody needed to know about the full-colour blowup she had of Eidolon with a fish down his collar that she looked at each time she needed a laugh) Faultline's Crew had completed their preparations to leave, packed up, and disappeared in the night.

"Come in," she called out, clearing her screen. There were no appointments due at this time, but she wasn't snowed under right at this moment either. If this kept up, she might actually be able to start approving trooper leave.

The office door opened and Taylor Hebert strolled in, with Zachary beside her. Damn, Emily thought. That's a nice jacket. The girl looked around at Emily's office appreciatively, while Zachary gave Emily herself a single acknowledging nod. This wasn't just some teenage boy pretending to airs he hadn't earned; there was gravitas and power in that nod.

"Hi, Director Piggot," Taylor said brightly. "Zach and I just got back to town an hour ago, and we thought we'd drop in and say hello."

Emily made some rapid calculations in her head. Eagleton, Tennessee was about thirteen hundred miles away from Brockton Bay. The pair before her had been reported as leaving Eagleton … approximately one hour ago. Jumping, if she could believe it. Or flying. Apparently, to Zachary, these two things were close to being the same. After what he'd done to Assault, she wasn't even going to ask questions.

"I appreciate the courtesy," she said carefully. "I heard of your actions at Eagleton. Quite a feat."

"It was not overly difficult, Director Piggot," Zachary said without the slightest hint of boasting in his tone. "Merely time-consuming. Taylor and I have decided to spend a little time clearing out the quarantine zones, and we were wondering if you would be interested in visiting the next one with us."

Emily stared at him. Given his wording, and the connotations thereof, he could only have one location in mind. Memories rushed into her mind, of creatures leaping out of the dark, flames in the night, and the ground opening up and swallowing her men. Far too many troopers had died in Ellisburg, and she'd suffered her own personal losses. Losses that had tied her to this chair and this office, as her body slowly degraded from long-term effects of the damage and lack of exercise.

If anyone else had given her the offer to go back and reclaim the town from the nightmare horrors that had occupied it for the last eleven years, she would've laughed in their face. She and her men had fought for every foot of ground, used up all their ammo and then scavenged from their dead comrades and fought on. She'd seen them die or heard their screams as they were overwhelmed. It was the last firefight she'd ever been in, the one she couldn't win.

The one that kept her up at night and filled her dreams with fire and blood.

It had been an unwinnable fight then, and it was an unwinnable fight now. Every now and again, a new hot-blooded officer in the PRT would suggest going back to Ellisburg and cleansing it of Nilbog and his minions once and for all. Doing so would carry a positive benefit to the United States, and to the PRT as a whole. The quarantine containment could end; with the tainted ground purged to the bedrock, the drained ulcer could be left to heal on its own. In time, people might live there again. Or not.

But the unwelcome answer was simple: the benefit would not be worth the cost. By some unclean, arcane means, Nilbog had a deadman trigger waiting to happen. Every time they sought an answer from the Thinker group Watchdog, the answers that came back hinted at devastation and disease spreading beyond the walls that enclosed the infested town. Hundreds, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands would die. Mutations in both plants and animals (including people) would ravage communities downwind for years or even decades.

So Nilbog and Ellisburg had been spared, over and over again. All the while acting as a weeping sore on the American psyche; with all our power, we cannot fix this.

Now, she stared into the bright, cheerful face of a teenage girl who had barely been an infant when Emily had been clawed to the ground, had fought screaming and kicking and stabbing against the monsters from the nightmare that had never ended for her. Her lips twitched, and she held back her outrage. The Hebert girl had no way of knowing what that meant to her …

… but Zachary did.

Her steel-grey gaze roved to the boy. His eyes had never left hers, and looking into them, she saw his understanding. He knew, somehow, what she had gone through in Ellisburg. She drew a deep breath, preparing the words of her refusal.

But they would not come.

Instead, she recalled what he had done. Not just for Brockton Bay, but for the nation. All in the name, if rumour was to be believed, of helping Taylor Hebert and keeping her safe.

"… why?" she asked at last.

"Because of the two people who survived it, you are the one most deserving of seeing its end," Zachary pronounced gravely, each word slotting into place as though carved in stone. "I help Taylor in all ways, all the time; but that does not mean I cannot help others as well. This makes Taylor happy."

"So …" She had to take another deep breath, just to keep her voice steady. "I could go in there, and you could help me kill that murdering sonovabitch, once and for all?"

"That is exactly what I mean, Director," he said with a cheerful smile on his face. "And then, once it is done, we will bring you back here. For you will have an after-action report to write."

More likely, I'll have a heart attack trying, she thought pragmatically. But damn it all to hell and back, something kept telling her that she had a chance, that she could actually do it. Shoving her chair back, she stood up, ignoring the ache in her legs and the nagging pain in her back. "Get me a gun. I've got a goblin king to hunt."

Taylor Hebert held out her hand. "Here," she said. "Let me help you."

"Thank you." The action was so natural, the words so smooth, that Emily thought absolutely nothing of accepting the assistance. Slapping her hand into the Hebert girl's gloved palm, she walked with her across the office. By the time she was halfway to the door, her calf muscles had ceased to hurt. When her back stopped aching, she stopped and stared down at herself. "What the fuck?"

It took her a few more seconds to realize what was going on, and then she could've slapped herself for not getting there earlier. Her body was literally fixing itself, using the excess mass from her extra weight to pack on the muscles where they were needed. This was Hebert's doing. The sneaky bitch is healing me, right under my nose!

"Is there a problem, Director?" the girl had the sheer hide to ask, not even letting Emily's hand go. Not that Emily was in any hurry to do so; with every increment of repair to her body, the amount of energy she felt flooding back into her was amazing. It was the dopamine rush to end all dopamine rushes.

"Yes," she growled, finally summoning the willpower to pull her hand away. "You should ask permission before you do that."

Taylor grinned at her. "But I did. I said to let me help you, and you accepted."

Emily gritted her teeth, wanting to be mad, but knowing it would be ultimately pointless. She'd dealt with barracks-room lawyers before, and how could she be mad with someone who'd brought her back to top fighting form again, anyway? "Just … don't do it again," she muttered. "Now, where's my gun?"

"Right here, Director Piggot." She turned at Zachary's voice; in the one hand, he held a PRT-issue assault rifle and fully loaded webbing, and in the other he held a PRT field issue uniform. If she wasn't much mistaken, it was in her old size.

"Give me that!" It was almost embarrassing, how quickly she snatched the items away from the young man. "But before I get changed, I need to know one thing."

Zachary looked her in the eye. "Nilbog will not harm anyone outside Ellisburg. Now or later. I will not allow it."

God damn it, how did he even know what I was going to say? She cut herself short on that line of query. Too many supervillains could have asked similar questions and gotten nowhere.

Ducking into her ensuite, she changed as rapidly as she knew how. Despite the years that had gone by, she found her fingers still knew the old routines; tab A goes into slot B, get dressed you dozy bastards, now now now!
As she opened the door of the ensuite, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. A leaner, meaner Emily Piggot looked back at her, a ghost from an earlier time. She gave her reflection a toothy grin, then stepped out into the office again.

Almost as an afterthought, she leaned across her desk and hit the intercom for the Deputy Director. "Mr Renick, I'm heading out for awhile. You're in charge until I get back."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. In his tone were questions, but she didn't have time for them right now.

Right now, Emily Piggot was going back to a fight she'd lost years before.

This time, she intended to win.

Nilbog, you bastard, I'm coming for you.


End of Part Nineteen

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Twenty: More Conclusions

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



The Girl Formerly Known as Panacea

"I still don't see what you're so upset over." Amy rolled her eyes as they entered the Weymouth Mall. She was wearing her new favourite blouse, a gift from Crystal that she'd previously consigned to the back of her closet because it was too bright and attention-getting. Now, she didn't care if she drew attention. She wasn't Panacea anymore, and she didn't care who knew it. Between that and the blouse, she was on top of the world.

Vicky, on the other hand, was wearing an outfit that was just as striking, but her mood was as far from sunny as it was possible to get. Although she was no longer confined to the house, she was still annoyed and it showed. Instead of her feet barely brushing the ground, she stomped along as though the sidewalk had personally offended her.

"Really?" She stopped and turned to Amy. "You can't tell why I'm pissed off? Honestly?"

Amy restrained the urge to roll her eyes again. "Oh, I know why. Zachary and Taylor owned you hard, then took away my powers because I asked them to, even though you were against it. Seriously, Vicky, more people need to say no to you. You get kind of entitled sometimes."

"I do not!" Vicky stamped her foot like a petulant child, and a nearby shop door rattled.

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Really? Because you just did a perfect impression of a six-year-old." She checked the floor; it didn't seem to be cracked.

"I don't get entitled." Vicky didn't seem as self-assured this time around. "Do I?"

Amy nodded. She loved Vicky dearly, but sometimes harsh truths needed to be told. "Sorry, but you totally do. Personally, I blame your powers. You've always been a little bit self-centred, and they let you get away with it more than you really should. Reinforcement is a thing."

"There you go again, blaming powers for everything bad that happens." Vicky rolled her eyes. "Name one bad thing that would've happened if you'd kept your powers."

"I get hit by a car when I'm walking to the hospital in the middle of the night," Amy said promptly.

Vicky glared at her. "Something your power does, not something that someone else does."

"Wow, way to move the goalposts." Amy thought for a moment. "Okay. I'm walking to the hospital in the middle of the night and someone tries to mug me."

"I said, your power—"

"Let me finish." Amy waited until Vicky subsided. "I said 'tries'. I subdue him with my powers. I'm tired and don't want to take this shit anymore, so instead of calling the cops or just letting him go, I say fuck it and rewire his brain so he doesn't mug people anymore. Make him into a nice person, give him the incentive to clean himself up and go get a proper job."

Vicky blinked. "Okay, that's more than a bit creepy, but—"

"I'm not done yet." Mentally, Amy braced herself. "So, let's say I've done this once and it's worked. The next time I'm out with the team and we take down a supervillain, I decide to do it again. Say … Uber and Leet. I do it subtly, make it so they want to keep doing the video game schtick, but as good guys instead of villains. Would anyone raise an eyebrow if that really happened?"

Now Vicky was staring at her. "Ames, you're scaring me here. Please tell me you haven't actually done this."

"No, I haven't." Amy gave her a serious look. "But you know what the worst bit is? If someone came up to me and said, 'hey, maybe you shouldn't do that', all I'd have to do is make physical contact and they'd be totally okay with it." As she spoke the last few words, she dropped her voice to a sepulchral whisper, and tapped Vicky on the elbow with two fingers.

"Shit!" Vicky went to flinch away, then stopped herself. "That's not cool, Amy. It's bullshit and you know it. You wouldn't do that. Maybe some horror-movie version might, but not you. I know you too well for that."

"You don't know me that well." Amy shook her head. "I was tempted. Every day I had those powers, I could feel the urge to push the boundaries and fix stuff. Not just bodies. People. Society. That's why I decided to tell everyone I couldn't do stuff with brains, instead of just saying I wouldn't. Because if people got the idea in their heads that I might for a price, they would never have left me alone."

"What, really? All the time?" The look on Vicky's face was priceless.

It was good, Amy reflected, that Vicky already knew the truth about the brains thing, or she might be freaking out even harder than she already was. Things were never going to be the same again after this chat, but that was okay. They'd already been at the point of 'never the same again'. "Yes, all the time."

"So, every time you healed Mom, or Dad, or Aunt Sarah, or me …" Vicky seemed intent on exploring the subject in the same way a child checked with their tongue to see if a tooth was still sore. "… you were tempted to make us … better?"

"The urge was there. Not just for you, but for everyone I ever encountered. Some more than others." Amy shrugged. "I never gave in, but some days were harder than others. One day, if I saw no other way out of it, maybe I would've given in. But I never did. And now, thanks to Zach, I never will."

"Was it really so hard to say no to it? To stay good?" Vicky just wouldn't let the subject go.

Amy looked her in the eye. "You tell me. How much would you pay to have Dad's depression permanently taken care of? And would that be a good thing or not?"

Vicky suddenly looked troubled. "Shit, uh … I dunno. Maybe? Would he even still be Dad?"

"And that's the sixty-four million dollar question, isn't it?" Amy shook her head slowly. "To answer your question, it wasn't hard, no. Just …" Amy reached out and prodded Vicky in the ribs. "Constant. Poke. Poke. Poke." As she said the words, she prodded again and again. "It would've been so easy. A tweak here, a tweak there, gradually rebuilding the world in the image I wanted to see. Everyone's flaws laid out before me, just waiting to be fixed, and my power telling me how it could be done. How it should be done. Poke. Poke. Poke."

"Quit it!" Vicky twisted away from her, giggling, but she sobered quickly. "It sounds horrible. Like a nightmare."

Amy shrugged. "It was my life for three years. I survived and didn't cause any S-class events, so I'll take that as a win." She eyed Vicky sidelong. "You're telling me your power doesn't give you the urge to punch anyone you think needs punching? Even if it would be illegal or they don't necessarily deserve to be punched by Glory Girl?"

Vicky paused for just a moment too long. "Well … punching bad guys is kind of my go-to …"

"And those gangers I've had to come out and help you with? Three or four times now, remember? You got kind of enthusiastic when it came to guys you can throw around like rag dolls, didn't you?"

"You didn't argue when I asked you to help!" Vicky glanced around, as though worried someone might be listening in on the problematic conversation.

"No, but maybe I should've." Amy folded her arms and huffed a sigh. "Just remember; I won't be there to bail your ass out anymore, if you pull that shit again. You break 'em, you pay for 'em."

The look on Vicky's face made it clear she was well aware of that situation. "Don't remind me." She tilted her head toward the interior of the mall. "So, you ready to go spend some allowance money on stuff to go with that blouse?"

"Sure, may as well." Retail therapy wasn't exactly Amy's cup of tea, but she was willing to try out something new to go along with her other life-changing experiences.

She'd taken all of two steps in Vicky's wake when the screech of tyres on asphalt caught her attention; it was way too close and way too loud, and lasted far too long. The final crunch sounded like the car had hit something solid and unyielding. In Amy's experience, just going by the sound, this one was going to be a write-off.

They didn't need to exchange any words. This was an emergency, and they were New Wave. Vicky whipped past her, grabbing the closing doors and wrenching them open when they didn't move fast enough, then flew out into the open air. Going by sheer reflex, Amy hurried after her.

The car was a fast sporty type, with two doors and a cramped back seat. Or rather, it had been. She didn't know its make or model, though even Kid Win or Clockblocker might've been hard put to identify the vehicle after the damage that had been done to it. From the tyre marks, the idiot had been travelling far too fast, hit a patch of oil or something, and speared off the paved road onto the sidewalk. For a miracle, no pedestrians had been hit. The errant vehicle's path had ended at the corner of the bank that was built into Weymouth when it ploughed into the solid brick-and-concrete buttress and stopped.

Vicky alighted next to the car, her head turning as she scanned for further hazards. Amy couldn't smell gasoline, but that meant nothing. It could start leaking now or in five minutes' time. She turned to the nearest bystander, who was gawking at the wreck but doing nothing else worthwhile. "You, what's your name?"

He blinked, looking at her. "Uh, Frank. Why?"

"Frank, I'm going to need you to call nine-one-one, right now." Amy pointed at the car. "We need police, fire and ambulance. All three of them. Can you do that for me?"

Frank began to fumble his phone out of his pocket. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

"Excellent." Amy pushed her way through the gathering crowd to where Vicky was examining the damage and lightly jiggling the driver's side door. A slow trickle of oil was making its way out from under the stricken vehicle toward the gutter, but still no gasoline. Thank God. "Nine-one-one's getting called. How bad's the driver hurt?"

Vicky turned to her. "Ames, you need to get back. This thing could still catch fire, and you aren't Panacea anymore."

"No, but I've had three years of seeing exactly how many ways a human body can get fucked up," Amy shot back. "I sure as hell know a lot more about it than you do."

Leaning in through the window, she turned the ignition key to 'off' then examined the driver for herself. A young man, he was breathing shallowly, lying slumped against the seatbelt. The airbag was just now deflating, which was a good sign. Hopefully, he'd avoided the worst of any potential injuries. Pulse was steady, but not as strong as she would've liked. From the way he was sitting and the sound of his breathing, she was willing to bet he had at least one broken rib.

While she'd never had to actively use first-aid techniques before—her powers had made them laughably superfluous—she'd seen them carried out; immobilising the patient's head, attempting to get his attention, ascertaining other injuries, and so forth. She did what she could, though hampered by the fact that he was in the car and she was outside it. He was only semi-responsive, moaning quietly every now and again.

"Vicky, there'll be a drug store in the mall somewhere," Amy said over her shoulder. "We're gonna need a neck brace."

"On it." There was a whoosh of wind. Amy didn't look around, but she knew for a fact that Vicky was flying through the mall; something her sister had never done before. Vicky positively enjoyed breaking the rules when it came to emergencies.

Half-turning her head, she called out to the gathering crowd. "Does anyone here have medical knowledge or first aid experience? Anyone at all?"

Nobody answered, which was what she'd half expected. Nobody ever wants to get involved. But she could handle it. She would handle it. Powers or no powers, she was still Amy Dallon, damn it!

There was another whoosh of wind. "Got it."

"Good. Unwrap it and pass it here." Amy reached back for the brace, then carefully maneuvered it in through the window and fitted it around the man's neck, making sure it securely supported his head. "Vicky," she said next. "I'm going to need you to remove this door and the door pillar as well. After that, there's a good chance he's got a spine or neck injury from that crash, so once I make sure he's not bleeding anywhere important, we need to carefully remove the whole seat so we can get him away from the car."

"Okay, yeah, that I can do." Vicky grabbed the car door and steadily pulled on it. The frame had been twisted and compressed, which would've normally made heavy machinery a requirement to remove it. With a screech of tortured metal, it came free anyway. Vicky placed the door to one side and moved to examine how best to break off the door pillar.

Ignoring the sounds of material destruction—she'd known Vicky as Glory Girl for years, after all—Amy knelt down half-inside the car and took the opportunity to examine her patient more thoroughly for injuries. There were no pieces of metal sticking in him, and she saw no bloodstains anywhere, which meant they were clear for the next stage. Carefully, she reclined the seat, a little at a time.

With a shriek of metal, Vicky tore off the door pillar and peeled the side of the car back to expose the rear seats. "Okay, what now?"

Amy stood up, dusted her hands off, and leaned in through the opening Vicky had made. "We get him out."

While Amy ensured the driver didn't loll off the makeshift stretcher, Vicky went about the tricky business of detaching the seat from the car without accidentally launching the man through the roof of his own (very) wrecked vehicle. When the steering wheel got in the way, Vicky snapped it off and stacked it next to the door. Fortunately, they'd worked together enough times that only a few words were required between them to get proper communication across. If only I could've communicated my other issues to her so easily, Amy thought, not without a pang.

Emergency services showed up just as they were getting the seat clear of the car. Amy tended to the driver's head, making sure he was still breathing and had a heartbeat, while Vicky handled the heavy lifting. As paramedics surrounded them, Vicky placed the reclined seat on the sidewalk.

"Breathing shallow, pulse there but not great, mostly non-responsive with a few vocalisations, no obvious wounds," Amy reported all in one breath. "Impact was pretty severe, but the airbag deployed so he might have broken ribs. I got a neck brace on him as soon as I could."

"Excellent, good to know," a careworn-looking woman said. "You've done well here, Miss Dallon."

"Yeah, just don't expect her to heal the guy," Vicky snarked. "She's not Panacea anymore, you know."

The paramedics turned to look at her. "Well, yes," said the one in charge. "We know. Okay, we got this."

Vicky stood beside Amy as the paramedics transferred the driver to a stretcher, sliding a back board under him and keeping the neck brace in place. In the meantime, the fire crew were foaming down the car just in case and the police were taking statements off any bystanders who were willing to give one.

"Wait," Vicky said, looking suspiciously at Amy. "They already know? Did you send out word to all the hospitals or something?"

Amy shrugged. "Nope. I never told a soul." She had no doubt of what had happened. Zach did it somehow, so I wouldn't keep getting asked to heal people. Because that's what he does.

As she watched the driver being loaded into the back of the ambulance, she felt a surge of pride. As Panacea, she'd healed any number of people, saved countless lives. But even without powers, she could still make a difference.

That was definitely something worth thinking about.

<><>​

Ellisburg
The Goblin King

Jamie Rinke, aka Nilbog, never stirred in his cocoon beneath the town of Ellisburg. But up above ground, the grotesque form that served as his eyes and ears within his kingdom looked around in confusion. Rinke was not stupid; in the years before he became what he was now and claimed Ellisburg for his own, he had been a banker, a man of education. The ways and means of the American military, though not his personal forte, had been broadcast publicly enough via news and movies. He knew they had many and varied methods they could use to murder his people and scour his kingdom to the bedrock, if they but had a chance to do so.

He did not intend to give them that chance.

Accordingly, he'd seeded the landscape around Ellisburg with spores. Year in and year out, in such low quantities that the PRT troops surrounding his walled town never noticed, he had sent them out to drift on the prevailing winds. They would do nothing so long as he was hale and hearty, and never gave the order to activate. But if the order were to be given, or if he died suddenly, the spores would emerge from their long hibernation and start hatching.

The micro-organisms they contained were subtle and insidious. Everything living in their path could be targeted.

Plants would grow monstrous and grotesque, taking on traits of venus flytraps and other carnivorous flora, spreading via runner-roots and sending out spores of their own. Animals, likewise, would grow large and savage, hybridizing in a parody of high-speed evolution to become ghastly killing machines.

For humans, he had reserved the worst. Children would be affected much like animals, their brains shrinking and bodies bulking out, becoming unthinking, savage carnivorous brutes. Adults would instead sicken from a variety of symptoms, no two alike, the diseases mutating with lightning speed as they jumped from victim to victim.

The PRT, he knew, had precognitives with whom they conferred regarding various threats. Nilbog knew that while the threat of his deadman switch was greater than the onerous duty of guarding the walls of Ellisburg, they would heed the precogs and leave him in peace. So the precarious balance was maintained.

Until now. Just a few seconds ago, his sense of the thinly spread spores had told him that a vast swathe thirty miles across was … gone. As if it had never infested the area at all.

How can this be?

While he puzzled this over, another patch vanished. Then another. Section by section, faster than he could activate them, his painstakingly-laid deadman triggers were being dismantled.

"Unfair!" he shrieked. "Cheating! Unfair!"

Though they had no idea what the matter was, his subjects sought to console him. But it was no use.

Something was coming.

<><>​

Director Piggot
Some Sixty Miles Downwind from Ellisburg

"So why are we here again?" asked Emily. Wearing full camouflage and kitted out with rifle and fully loaded webbing, she felt like a trooper again.

Of course, standing in the middle of a pasture, with nothing more dangerous than a curious horse peering over a fence at them from a hundred yards away, she was beginning to also feel a little conspicuous. She gave Taylor Hebert and her friend Zach a hard glare. Whatever game they were playing at, they needed to wrap it up and get serious.

"Don't ask me," Taylor said cheerfully. "Zach's the one giving directions. I'm just the driver. Zach?"

"Nilbog laid a trap." Zach replied, equally happily. "He has seeded the land with spores for miles in all directions." Crouching down, he took up a dead leaf, probably blown down from a tree. "You see? Right there." He showed Emily the underside of the leaf.

Emily squinted then suddenly, as though someone had turned on a light switch, she spotted the tiny purple grains huddled together in a niche of the leaf. Now that she could see them, they were plainly obvious. "How dangerous are they?" she asked warily, not even considering touching the thing.

"Oh, they are very dangerous." Zach had no business sounding so upbeat, considering the topic at hand. "Infected plants and animals will attack humans. Infected humans will become bestial and attack other humans, or just get sick and die. It was an ingenious plan to ensure he would never be attacked."

"Well, no. Watchdog warned us against it." Emily frowned. "What are we going to do? It's not like we can search every blade of grass and spray this crap. It would take decades."

"We do not need to search every blade of grass." Zach beamed at her. "I know about it, so I can now do this." His foot rose and fell with a light thud. Although the impact had been barely audible, a blurred wave raced out in all directions, vanishing into the distance before Emily could blink. On the leaf, the purple spores … vanished, as if they had never been.

"Let me guess," Taylor said idly. "You killed all the spores?"

"Only those within fifteen miles," Zach corrected her. "The next big concentration is twenty-nine miles four thousand thirty-six feet that way, and fifteen feet six inches higher in elevation."

Taylor nodded. "Got it." She gathered Emily and Zach by the elbows.

There was a brief burst of flame, more seen than felt, and they were in the new location. Emily didn't feel any particular disorientation, just an awareness that they'd moved. Certainly beats any troop transport I ever rode in.

Again, Zach stamped his foot and sent out the wave cancelling all the spores, then they jumped again, and again, and again.

Within minutes, they stood within sight of the Ellisburg wall. Emily peered at it, then turned to Zach. "So what's to stop him from sending out more spores while we're in there?"

"You see, Taylor? There is a reason I thought Director Piggot was the best person for this mission." Zach seemed quite pleased with himself. "No more spores will be sent out, because I will not allow that to happen." He gestured almost negligently, and a massive domed force field appeared over the top of the wall.

Taylor shaded her eyes. "Huh. Same force field your dad used that time, huh?"

"Yes, Taylor." Zachary's tone was relentlessly upbeat. "I thought it was a useful capability. We are going to have to thank Father for showing it to me."

Emily was still trying to figure out which insanely powerful cape would have sired a kid like Zachary, and coming up blank, when Taylor grabbed them both. "Ready?"

It didn't take her long to realize she was the one being addressed. "Kid, I was ready for this before you were born." To give her words emphasis, she checked chamber on her rifle, making sure there was brass in view. The safety clicked off and she laid her trigger finger alongside the guard, barrel pointed in the air. "Let's do this."

Flames flared around them, and they teleported.

<><>​

Taylor

Hands in my jacket pockets, I strolled alongside Zach, following the swathe of destruction Director Piggot was carving through Nilbog's monsters. Her martial skills were very definitely coming back to her, as the extremely dead creatures piled up here and there could attest. Or rather, they could've attested if she hadn't killed them first.

We weren't making her do it all alone, of course. Fighting to her left and right were ghostlike soldiers wearing the same camouflage as she was, carrying weapons equivalent to hers. When she addressed them by name, their features became more visible, matching the names she'd given them. She wasn't even questioning this, barking orders for covering fire and other such military maneuvers.

Raising the muzzle of her rifle, she popped a couple of grenades from the underslung launcher in through the window of a rustic building, then sent tightly-controlled bursts from the rifle into three more creatures as they ran out the door. A second later the grenades detonated, sending fire and debris everywhere. Under cover of the explosions, she yelled, "I'm out! Changing mags!"

This was the tenth time she'd changed her magazine since entering Ellisburg. She hadn't been carrying ten magazines, or enough forty-millimetre grenades to cover the destruction she was causing. But every time she emptied a magazine and shoved it into her webbing, the previous one she'd put in there was now full.

Zach's doing, of course. He wanted Nilbog neutralized and removed from the field of play, so he was giving Director Piggot the means to do it. It would've been just as easy for him to simply kill everything within the walls, but as he'd said when I asked him, "This way is much more fun."

He wasn't actually wrong, there. 'Fun' was one way to put it. 'Entertaining' would have been another, if I were into war movies. Even though I wasn't, it was still educational to watch Director Piggot at work. If this was her ten years after she'd been invalidated out of the troopers, she must've been one hell of a soldier in her day.

As we watched, she dispatched a charging monstrosity by first blowing out its knees then directing concentrated fire into its head until there was nothing left but bloody pulp. Another one, larger than the last, loomed around the corner. Bone plates across its chest and legs made this one a dicier proposition.

The Director didn't hesitate. She detonated three grenades in its face, then slung her rifle and yelled, "AT-4!" Or rather, I thought she was saying 'eighty-four' until my glasses helpfully threw up a graphic of a tubular device with a rocket-looking device overlaid on it. I hadn't even seen Zach was holding one until he threw it toward her. Because of course he hadn't been holding it until she called out for it.

She caught it one-handed, then somehow swung it around into a ready position on her shoulder. Without a single wasted motion, she pulled and moved levers on it, causing a couple of vertical sights to pop up, then she called out, "Back blast area clear!"

My glasses showed the area she was talking about, a cone extending out behind her, just barely extending to where we were standing. Zach and I probably could've stood directly behind the thing and not been affected, but we courteously stepped aside anyway. "Clear," I called back to her.

She didn't acknowledge by voice; her head went down to the sights and she fired the thing. There was a brief but loud bang and a huge bloom of fire and smoke behind her, and a dramatic explosion in front. When the smoke cleared, bloody chunks of the monster were basically everywhere.

Discarding the tube, she kept moving. Her rifle ran out of ammunition yet again—it wasn't as though she had a lack of targets—but she changed magazines and kept going. We followed as she cleared the town, building by building. Between us, Zach and I suppressed the fire of creatures that wanted to launch bone darts at either us or the Director; it wasn't as though we'd come here looking for a fair fight, after all.

Ellisburg was a bloodbath by the time we reached the last building. Some creatures had tried to burrow up from beneath, but the Director had brutally dealt with those. All of the buildings were empty of anything living, some were no longer recognisable as buildings, and more than a few were on fire. A few last monsters tried to form a stand between us and the grotesque form of Nilbog, but the Director went through them as if they didn't exist. Finally, she stood before the Goblin King himself.

"You," she said. There were so many emotions layered into her voice that a single word told a story.

He stirred on his throne, his face obscured by a cloth crown with a mask hanging down in front. His gross lips parted, then he spoke. "Who are you? I do not know you. By what right do you come to my kingdom, slaughter my subjects?" The words were accented strangely, almost another language unto themselves.

Emily Piggot did not speak for a moment, possibly struck dumb by the sheer audacity inherent in the question. Then she raised her chin. "Jamie Rinke, you are guilty of the murders not only of every single man, woman and child in Ellisburg, but also of almost every soldier who set foot in this city in the aftermath. I faced your creations and nearly died. That gives me the right to do this."

Without turning her eyes from Nilbog, she removed the magazine from the rifle and replaced it with a full one. When she pulled the charging handle on the rifle, the clack-clack was loud in the silence of the ruined town. Only the faint crackle of flames could be heard in the background.

"Then kill me with your fire and metal!" Nilbog spread his arms wide. "I am helpless, soldier from a foreign land!"

Almost for the first time since we'd teleported into Ellisburg, the Director acknowledged our presence. Half-turning toward us, while keeping the Goblin King in plain view, she asked, "Is he real?"

"No, Emily Piggot, he is not." Zach strolled forward, a smile playing on his lips. "This is a puppet he created to pretend to be himself. Do you wish to face the real Jamie Rinke?"

The Director's lips drew back and she showed her teeth. "Oh, yes," she purred. "Please."

"You cannot!" shrieked the monstrosity on the makeshift throne. "Cheaters! Liars! Usurpers!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up." The Director pointed her rifle at him and emptied the magazine, splattering chunks away from his misshapen body until the weapon clicked dry. Bleak grey eyes surveyed the bloody mess as she reloaded, then she turned to Zach. "Show me."

"Very well." Zach stamped his foot on the ground, and in response a rumbling arose from below. A mound of earth began to build, then slid apart, showing a cocoon-like form. Through the translucent outer skin, a human form was vaguely visible.

Slinging her rifle, the Director drew a fighting knife as she strode over to the cocoon. One slash opened it up as though unfastening a zipper. Translucent fluids spilled out, adding their unpleasant aroma to that of dead bodies and burning buildings. The form within, a human male wearing just enough clothing to be modest, opened its eyes and sat up. He tried to speak several times, opening and closing his mouth, before his voice got through. "What are you going to do with me?"

"This." Emily Piggot drew her sidearm with impressive speed. Just as my glasses flickered with an update, she fired twice. Two shots went into his chest at close range before she shot him one more time in the head. Brain matter splattered out over the dirt mound. Leaving the body to sprawl in the wreckage of the cocoon, she holstered the pistol and turned to us. "I'm done here."

"Then we are too." Zach turned to me. "Taylor, if you will?"

"Sure, I can do that." I reached out for Director Piggot's arm. Flame washed around us as we teleported away.

<><>​

Director Piggot

Emily stood looking around her office as if it were unfamiliar territory for her. Slowly, she turned to the pair of teens. Or rather, the teen girl and the cape masquerading as a teenage boy. "Thank you." The words felt strange on her lips.

"You are welcome." Zach sounded as cheerful as ever. "Did you have any questions?"

"Yes. One." Emily frowned. "That firefight took several hours. How come the troops outside never came to investigate?"

Taylor grinned. "The force field Zach put over the place. It diverts attention, and it speeds up elapsed time inside the field. By the time they would've noticed something was wrong, we were done and gone."

Emily nodded. That explained why most of the elapsed time wasn't actually showing on her wall clock. "Very well. Did you have any more need for me?"

"No, Director!" Zach waved happily. "Have a good afternoon!" Before she could answer, they had vanished, the brief burst of flames not so much as scorching the carpet.

Slowly, she began to divest herself of the paraphernalia of being a soldier. She was hungry, thirsty, tired, her ears were still ringing from the constant gunfire, and she ached all over. But the long-endured burden on her soul had been lifted free at last. The fallen of Ellisburg had been avenged. Nilbog was dead.

As she stepped into the ensuite to shower off the smell of smoke and blood, she smiled to herself.

This is going to be one doozy of an after-action report.

<><>​

Taylor

I glanced sideways at Zach as we lounged in Fugly Bob's. Neither one of us had ordered the Challenger, mainly because Zach could eat ten if he felt like it and I could probably eat one, but I wouldn't enjoy it. It would basically be a meaningless feat, so we didn't do it.

"So did I catch you grabbing his powers just before she shot Nilbog?" I asked, then popped a curly fry into my mouth. Sure, it was bad for me, but who cared?

Zach smiled then took a drink from his shake. "Yes, Taylor. Some powers were designed for direct action, while others were intended to stir other people into direct action. This power was one of the latter. I believe I will be able to make better use of it."

I snorted. "Well, duh." His ability to borrow powers—or even outright steal them—was something I was entirely on board with. Zach had proven over and over again that if anyone was to be trusted with power, it was him. "So, whose day were you thinking of ruining next?"

He blatantly stole some of my curly fries while he was thinking the matter over (or rather, pretending to—I wasn't stupid enough to believe Zach didn't have plans up the wazoo) so I retaliated by grabbing his shake and taking a long slurp out of it. For some reason, this amused him immensely, but not so much that he didn't filch one of my calamari rings. The little theft war went on until he'd eaten most of my food and I'd eaten most of his, and we were both smirking at the goofy humour of it all.

"Have you heard of a group called the Travelers?" he asked, polishing off the last curly fry.

I ate his last fish stick, then shook my head. "I don't recognise the name." A moment later, my glasses put a readout in front of me. TRAVELERS, it said, and began listing names and powers. "… ah. But apparently my glasses have."

Zach said nothing, giving me time to read. These glasses really were very handy.

When I got to the abbreviated background, I frowned. "They're from Earth Aleph? Wow. I didn't even know … ah. Your sister?"

He nodded. "She says it was part of an ongoing plan to cause further chaos and destabilise matters by reducing public trust in the Protectorate and PRT, followed by the disruption of an Endbringer defense. There are volatile personalities within the group, and the capacity for much damage if they are left unchecked. Also, one of the members has a power that is damaging her and causing unnecessary death to those around her. My sister would approach them herself to send them back, but it would be almost impossible for her to gain their trust in any meaningful timeframe."

I'd already read about how they'd gotten to Bet, so his comment surprised me not at all. "Yeah, can't understand why that might be."

He paused for a moment, then smiled in relief. "Ah. You are using sarcasm for emphasis. Yes, that is funny."

In some ways he was coming along well—the theft of the food, for instance—while in others he was still working at it. But hey, I was enjoying my time with him, and we were doing good in the world. "So, when did you want to go say hi to them?"

"There is no time like the present, Taylor." He got up and carefully stacked the remains of our meal on the tray it had arrived on. For someone who could have gotten rid of every piece of trash in the building in less time than it took me to blink, he seemed to enjoy the meticulous activity.

"All-righty then." I stood up and stretched, enjoying the view out over the bay, with gulls swooping and squawking over any idiot who took fries down to the Boardwalk. They weren't quite willing to intrude into the Fugly Bobs diner space, though I was privately certain that the slightest hint of encouragement would've seen them taking up residence on the table. "Are we running, jumping or teleporting?"

I heard the clatter as he emptied the tray into the trash can, then stacked it on top of the others. "My sister says they are on the move from New York to Boston, so I believe running would be best. Unless you would rather we jumped? As I understand, you enjoy that most of all."

He was absolutely correct that I enjoyed it most of all. What wasn't to enjoy? Of course, Zach's version of jumping had about as much in common with actual leaping as Li'l Protectorate Pals had with the genuine Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

"How about we compromise?" I suggested. "We jump to the general vicinity, then we run to catch up with them."

He beamed at me. "Do you know, I would not have thought of that. Good idea, Taylor. We shall do that."

We headed down the steps to the Boardwalk, and Zach scooped me into his arms. I was getting quite used to this now, of course, but the tiny thrill of being picked up like a princess by his oh so strong arms never really went away. A couple of passers-by stopped and stared, and I gave them a cheesy grin and a wave. "Hi!"

They stared harder, clearly not quite sure of what to think.

"Bye!" And Zach jumped. "Wooooo hoooooo!"

<><>​

Totally Not the Undersiders

Lisa sat down heavily on the bench near Fugly Bob's. Eyes screwed tight with pain, she rubbed at her temples with her hands. "Mother goddamn fucker," she muttered.

Brian, next to her, eyed her with concern and offered her his waterbottle. "What? We see flying capes all the time, What's the problem with that one?"

She took it and poured half the contents over her head. "Not ones like that one, we don't. I know Rachel and Alec have already left town since the boss cut us loose. It's time I went, too. That asshole nearly gave me an aneurysm."

"Why?" Brian peered up into the sky, but the teen cape and his friend had already vanished. Her jacket had been pretty cool, though. "Who was he?"

Lisa shook her head. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. If you believed me, you wouldn't be happy knowing. Trust me, in this instance, ignorance really is bliss."

"Oh, okay." Brian frowned. "Where are you going to go?"

Lisa grimaced. "I'm thinking maybe LA." Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temples again. "This goddamn town."

<><>​

Trickster
Halfway Between New York and Boston

Francis Krouse wasn't sure where Cody had boosted the RV from, and he didn't want to know. His teammate's rewind power was about the only thing that kept him on the team these days. The passive-aggressive behaviour (and the actively aggressive behaviour) he was indulging in more and more of these days was irritating everyone, even the eager-to-please Marissa.

With any luck, they'd be able to make a fresh start in Boston, and give themselves a clean break from the unpleasantness that had caused them to flee New York. Of course, without a miracle cure for what was afflicting Noelle, they'd only last so long before they had to skip town yet again. On the upside, he'd heard Accord wasn't hard to deal with; the Thinker merely required everything to be orderly and predictable.

Unfortunately, 'orderly and predictable' failed utterly to describe at least two members of the Travelers, maybe more depending on how precisely he chose to apply the words. Noelle simply could not go out in public or be around anyone who didn't know not to have physical contact with her, not least because of her changing form and size. And Cody … some days, it seemed to him that Cody just went through a mental list of 'what would piss everyone off the most' and rolled a die.

I wish he'd just take the hint and fuck off. But if he did that, he couldn't hang around and keep blaming me for taking Noelle away from him, and of course for what happened to her. I swear, the next time he—

The droning engine note of the RV died; rubber howled on pavement as the back wheels locked up. Jolted from his reverie, Francis locked his hands on the wheel, fighting the suddenly-stiff steering, trying not to let the ungainly vehicle skid out and roll. Shouts and cries of alarm sounded from behind him, then suddenly they were rolling free again. The engine was still out, though, and the steering remained stiff as hell.

"What the fuck was that about, Krouse?" Luke burst through from the back and swung himself into the passenger seat. "Did you just decide to wake everyone up for the fun of it?"

"No!" Francis gestured at the dashboard, where absolutely nothing was showing, then returned his hand to the wheel. "Engine just died!" Looking down at the gearshift, he saw it had somehow jumped into Neutral, which was something he belatedly realised he should've done for himself. But at least they weren't about to crash right this second.

"Well, fuckin' start it again." Luke gestured at the steering column and by inference the ignition key.

"Doubt it'll be that easy." But Francis tried it anyway, reaching for the key. His fingers fumbled at the keyhole for a few seconds before he registered what was wrong. "Where's the fucking key?"

"What?" Luke leaned over in his seat. "The fuck? What'd you do with it?"

"I didn't!" Francis took a deep breath and moderated his tone. "I didn't do anything with it. One second I was just driving and the next, the engine cut out and the back wheels were dragging. It must've jumped into Neutral, which is why we haven't crashed yet." He demonstrated wrenching the wheel back and forth. "Power steering's out, too."

"The steering shouldn't be working at all." That was Marissa, behind Luke. "One time, my best friend's boyfriend tried to roll his car down the hill because he was out of fuel, and he took the ignition key out. That locked the steering, and he wiped out the neighbour's mailbox. Why isn't the steering locked?"

Cody's sneering voice cut in. "Because Krouse is pulling some sort of bullshit power play. Fake an emergency, be the big hero when he miraculously fixes it, nobody second-guesses him still being in charge when we get to Boston."

From behind everyone else, way down at the back, Noelle called out. "Krouse? What's going on? Why did you hit the brakes like that? Why are we slowing down?"

"It's all good!" he shouted back. "Just hold tight and we'll get this sorted out!" Taking a breath and looking around at the rest of his teammates, he moderated his tone again. "This isn't something I'm doing. Someone or something did it to us. Mask up. I'm going to pull off into that rest area up ahead."

It wasn't as though he was going to have much of a choice in the matter. Even rolling free, the RV was slowing down, as Noelle had noticed. It was a choice of either stopping in the middle of the road, at the mercy of any high-speed traffic that failed to change lanes in time, or getting off the freeway altogether.

Fortunately, the traffic was light to non-existent. He managed to get over into the right-hand lane without much more than a blare of a horn from an irritated motorist, then wrestled the wheel around so the RV took the turnoff. From there, it was a matter of repeatedly stomping the brakes—the power braking system was also apparently out—until they engaged, and the RV ground to a halt.

Donning his Baron Samedi top hat and full-face mask, Francis checked all the mirrors then looked out through the windshield and side mirrors for potential hostiles. There were only two, standing out in the open with no attempt at concealment. A pair of teenagers, a guy and a girl. He was tall and soldily-built, with the promise of topping out at over six feet. Almost as tall as her companion, the girl was slender, wore glasses that glinted in the sunlight, and sported an absolutely rockin' jacket.

Neither one had a mask on, which … really meant nothing, in the long run. They could have been unconnected to this whole affair, or neck-deep in it but uncaring if anyone saw their faces. There really was no way to tell.

"Damn," muttered Marissa as she came back with her mask on. "That's a really nice jacket."

"Admire it after all this is over." Francis took a deep breath. "Luke, sunroof. Cody, get ready to lock them into a loop. Mars, if they start slinging stuff at us, light up a sun between them and us."

"And what are you going to be doing?" Even in this level of emergency, Cody couldn't stop sniping.

"Going out to see what they want." He didn't want to, but they were kind of in a bind here. "If either of them gets hostile, we come out fighting."

There was a moment of silence, then Luke nodded and slapped Francis on the shoulder. "Got it. Good luck."

"Yeah, gonna need it." Francis hated this kind of situation. The ground had clearly been prepared by the opposition, so whatever they did was likely to have been anticipated. Was this an assassination attempt? A grab aimed at Noelle? He didn't know their motives, so he couldn't plan against them.

Taking another deep breath, he fixed on the guy. If shit went down, they'd swap places and he'd be next to the girl while her boyfriend would be facing his friends. If Luke had to, he could launch the guy clear into the next county. And while Francis wasn't a fighter, surely to God he could punch out one skinny teenage girl.

Opening the side door, he stepped out onto the concrete pavement that made up the rest area. Now to see if this was going to be a straight-up fight, or if it would be preceded by a test of wills while each side waited for the other to make the first move.

Apparently, the girl hadn't heard of either trope. She strolled forward to meet him, hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. "Hey, how are you?" A friendly nod accompanied the words.

"I'm fine," he replied cautiously. "What the fu—"

Her boyfriend had been several steps behind her. Suddenly, he was half a step ahead, and Francis was almost certain he hadn't seen the guy move. "Please do not swear at Taylor," the guy said. Or at least, that was what his voice said. The undertones were something else altogether. If you fuck with me, it will be the last thing you ever do. Only a whole lot less polite.

A trickle of sweat started down the back of his neck. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but he'd run out two hours ago. Okay, this shit is really, really serious!

"So, this here's Zach," said the girl chattily. "You may have heard of him? Guy who totalled the Slaughterhouse Nine from halfway across the country, using a PRT van and a street sign? Yeah, that guy. We've also dealt with the Teeth, the Fallen, the Machine Army and—just today—Nilbog's crew. My name is Taylor, but that bit's not important. The important bit is that if you listen very, very carefully to what we've got to say, this may end up being the best day of your life."

Her voice didn't hold the same undertones of absolute fucking doom that his did. Instead, he found himself believing her implicitly. He'd heard about the Nine, but not the rest. And yet, he didn't question her words in the slightest. "Okay," he said. "Got it."

"Good." Taylor took her hand from her pocket—no weapons, thank God—and waved at the RV. "Is everyone in there okay? Yes? Excellent. So, you might be wondering why we arranged for you to end up here."

Having the suspicion was one thing. The confirmation was quite another. Francis tensed slightly, ready to respond to any hostile moves. "How did you do that, anyway? EMP?"

"Do not be silly," Zach said almost chidingly. "I am not a Tinker. I am not a parahuman at all. I merely disconnected your battery, removed your steering lock and took the key when you were not looking."

"When I wasn't—I was driving!" Francis almost choked on the words. "That's the very definition of 'looking'!"

Zach smiled and held up a vaguely familiar-looking set of keys. "I believe these belong to your vehicle, yes?"

"I … guess so?" Francis didn't want to commit himself. "I could've—"

The keys vanished from Zach's hand and the RV roared to life, all in the same split second. "And now they are back in your vehicle. The battery has been reconnected, and the steering lock repaired."

The vague feeling of dread, that had been looming over Francis ever since Zach had reproached him for swearing, settled over his shoulders in full force. However he was doing it, this guy—who wasn't a parahuman, his brain kept insisting—was absolutely the real fucking deal. "Okay, so what do you want?"

Taylor grinned broadly. "See, that's the right question. What we want is to send you back home, where you belong. What Zach wants is your powers in repayment. All of them."

Francis' brain came to a shuddering, screeching halt. "What." Our powers? What the fuck?

"It is a simple request." Zach spread his hands. "I will remove your powers without harming you. I will also remove the last of the influence of my sister's power from your brains. Taylor will restore Jess the use of her legs. And then I will send you back to Earth Aleph, to the location of your choice."

It was a struggle for Francis to wrap his head around the situation. He could understand the concept of losing his powers, though he didn't want to do it. Going back to Aleph was a definite plus. But the bit in the middle was tripping him up. "What … your sister?" He looked at Taylor. "Is that you? Are you his sister?" A moment's pause as he caught up with what Zach was saying. "You can fix her legs?"

Taylor chuckled lightly. "Yes to the legs, no to the sister part. The Simurgh is his sister." Leaning a little closer, she cupped her hand around her mouth and lowered her voice theatrically. "Don't tell anyone, but he's an Endbringer."

How Francis managed to avoid screaming and running at that point, he would never know. Settling into a state of dull resigned terror, he nodded in acknowledgement. "And you are …?" In all honesty, he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd revealed herself as Glaistig Uaine's older sister.

She beamed at him. "Oh, I'm nobody important. Just an ordinary girl from Brockton Bay. So, about the powers thing."

He frowned. "I'm not sure if the guys will be happy about giving them up." Though Jess is likely to reach down my throat and rip out my spleen if I don't agree to the whole 'walking again' aspect for her.

Taylor shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "It's kind of a package deal. Giving up your powers is your ticket back to Aleph. The restored mobility and influence removal are a freebie. Now, I know Noelle, Marissa and probably Jess will jump at it. If you want to go back with Noelle, you know what you have to do."

Behind his mask, Francis grimaced. He'd known what it was like to be between a rock and a hard place, but this was rockier and harder than he'd ever experienced before. "Can I talk it over with the others?"

Zach nodded and made an expansive gesture. "Feel free to do so, Mr. Krouse."

Yeah, I got it. You know everything about us. Francis turned and trudged back to the RV.

This was not going to be a pleasant discussion.

<><>​

Taylor

By the time the vehicle door opened again and Trickster emerged, I was reclining in a deck-chair with an umbrella overhead to keep the sun off, a drink at my elbow. Zach had a chair of his own beside me, and he was doing a really good impression of being half asleep. Nobody else had pulled off the freeway in all this time, because Zach had decided they wouldn't.

Sitting up, I finished my drink off, then stood up. "So, how'd it go?" I asked cheerfully. He didn't have to know I'd been using my glasses to keep tabs on the discussion within the RV; people were much more likely to do what you wanted if you gave them the illusion of freedom of agency. I'd learned that the hard way.

"We're going back," he said briefly. "All of us."

It had been a hard-fought decision, which was good. If we'd just imposed it on them, they would've been unhappy and resentful, even if they would've come to the same choice themselves. But because they'd chosen it, they could feel proud of themselves and hold their heads high.

Noelle, Marissa, Jess and Oliver had of course all voted to go back. Francis didn't want to lose his powers, but his love for Noelle was stronger, so he'd reluctantly joined their faction. Cody spent the longest time trying to convince Noelle that there was some way she could be healed of her affliction on Earth Bet, but she was adamant, so eventually he caved as well. The last holdout, Luke, had been intending to stay on Bet and be a hero, but Marissa of all people pointed out how hard it was to rebrand.

All in all, the debate had taken about two hours, and had gotten quite heated at points. Was I a bad person to have been entertained by the back and forth arguments? Probably, but it was the most fun I'd had in quite a while.

Zach started with Noelle. She looked at him nervously as he walked up, but then he smiled and she relaxed. Zach's smiles were disarming, to say the least. That put her off-guard long enough for him to reach out and take her hand.

"Shit—"

"Fuck—"

"No—"

"Don't—"

Ignoring the exclamations from the rest of the Travellers, Zach concentrated slightly and led Noelle forward out of the grotesque lower body, legs forming as she moved. And because Zach was cool like that, jeans formed over her legs at the same time. By the time they reached Trickster, she wasn't even stumbling anymore.

Trickster put his arms around her anyway, and she did the same with him. Then he looked over her shoulder at Zach. "It's that easy? I thought there'd be more to it."

Zach smiled as he bundled up the remainder of Noelle's power and made it disappear. "I can make it difficult if you wish me to. There can be pain and blood and screaming … or I can simply make it happen."

The Travelers looked at each other, then back at Zach. "Uh … I vote for easy," Marissa said hastily. "Easy is good for me."

I smirked. It was something people nearly always forgot about Zach. He could definitely make things difficult for people, but they had to choose to push back. Unfortunately (for them), many people did just that.

One by one, they lined up and Zach removed their powers. I used the Panacea gloves to restore Jess' legs to full mobility while he was working on the others. Luke was reluctant and Cody downright glared at him, but nobody actually resisted the process. Which was fortunate; Zach had confided to me that Cody was going to lose his powers no matter what. He was too prone to holding grudges, even before the Simurgh's influence had gotten into the mix.

Finally, Zach gestured and a shimmering portal unravelled from thin air. "This will take you home," he declared. "Nobody will ask too many questions about where you have been. I have made sure of that. Be well. Be happy."

Tossing aside her mask, Marissa was the first to step through, followed by Oliver and Jess. Francis and Noelle went next, her arm snuggled around his. Luke took a moment to look around one last time, then approached Zach.

"Thanks, man," he said, offering his hand. "I wasn't sure I wanted this, but now I am."

"You are welcome." Zach shook his hand firmly.

Luke nodded. "Appreciate the chance." He stepped through the portal and was gone.

Cody was the last. Even with the Simurgh's malign influence lifted, I could see the habit of bitterness on his face. "Don't expect me to thank you."

Zach shrugged. "You have made your choice. What you do with it is up to you."

The ex-Traveler curled his lip. "Yeah, you can fuck ri—"

That did it for me. Zach had the patience of Mount Rushmore, but I'd had enough of this punk disrespecting him. Stepping forward, I grabbed Cody by the front of his shirt. He hadn't taken his mask off so I ripped it free and tossed it aside. "No," I told him. "You can fuck right off. Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

My strength was enhanced by the powers inherent in the jacket, but I was still impressed by the distance and accuracy I scored with the throw; one-handed, at that. He went through the portal without touching the sides, and I figured he would've flown another ten feet before hitting the ground.

As the portal winked out, I turned to Zach. "Sorry. He was getting on my nerves."

He chuckled and put his arm around my waist. "There is nothing to apologise for, Taylor. He was an unpleasant person. Shall we go home?"

I looked at the sun, lowering in the western sky. It had been a long day. "Sure. Can we jump?"

"We can jump." He gathered me in his arms.

"Woooo hoooo!"



End of Part Twenty

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Twenty-One: Coming to a Head

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



That Night
Danny

"So, Ellisburg's … done?" Danny slid a slice of lasagna onto a plate and handed it to Zach. "Just like that?"

"Thank you, Danny. Yes, just like that." Zach took the plate to the table and sat down. "In the end, it was quite easy. I supplied Director Piggot with the appropriate tools, and she proved extremely adequate to the task."

"You should've seen it, Dad." Taylor accepted the next plate and sat down beside Zach. "It was like a war movie, only better. They didn't stand a chance."

"Now I'm kind of sorry I missed it." Danny wasn't as much of a war movie buff as Kurt and Lacey were, but he did like a good one. "You sound like you've been busy, cleaning up around the place."

"Yeah, but it's a fun kind of busy." She took a bite of lasagna. "Mmm, that's nice. So, anything interesting happen while we were out and about?"

Danny raised his eyebrows, wondering if she was punking him. "What, Zach didn't tell you?"

Zach had the grace to look abashed. "I apologise, Taylor. It did not seem important enough to tell you about until after dessert. My sister decided that Leviathan should not be having all the fun, so she visited the city today, to have some fun of her own."

Taylor frowned. "There was nothing on TV about an Endbringer alarm."

"That is because it did not go off," Zach explained. "Your local villains Uber and Leet were in the process of setting up a game of Battleship in the port with the ships we refloated, when she challenged them to a game of Dance Dance Revolution."

"Wait," said Taylor. "She was here in Brockton Bay, and nobody reacted?"

"Ah. Again, I apologise." Zach smiled ruefully. "I neglected to explain that she asked me to lend my ability to keep people thinking everything was fine while all this was happening. She has assisted us with her abilities several times now; turnabout is fair play, is it not?"

"Well, true." Taylor tilted her head. "Now I'm just a little unhappy that I missed it." Then there was a flicker of light from her glasses and she blinked. "Oh. Oh, wow … holy crap, these are just like 3-D glasses. It's like I'm there."

"They are whatever you need them to be, Taylor." Zach applied himself to the lasagna. "I will say this much, Danny. Although I do not have a strict need to eat, I am greatly enjoying the meals that I have been eating since I arrived here. I am left to wonder if my brothers and sister would still have caused the damage they have if they had been formed able to enjoy food."

"Peace through superior cooking skills?" Danny thought that was hilarious. "Well, it certainly would've been easier to keep them from wrecking cities. Though Behemoth does seem the type to keep going back through the buffet line, just saying."

Taylor giggled. "At least Leviathan would never have to worry about refills for his water pitcher." Her attention returned to whatever her glasses were showing her. "Wow, that's some stage she built."

"It really was." Danny and the other Dockworkers had heard the music from the Association headquarters. As it was coming from down near the waterfront, they'd piled into cars and gone to investigate. It had indeed been a huge DDR stage, with appropriately scaled dance platforms; one for Uber and one for the Simurgh herself. Massive screens hovered above the stage, showing the footwork of each of the 'contestants', while Leet ran the console.

At the time, he had wondered why nobody ran screaming when they saw it was the Simurgh in attendance. Initially he'd suspected they thought it was an illusion of some sort ginned up by the video game geek pair, but Zach had just confirmed his later surmise.

Over the next several hours, while maybe ten thousand people arrived from all over Brockton Bay (the music carried a long, long way) Uber and the Simurgh engaged in a DDR dance-off. They started with relatively simple songs, then escalated to ones that left Danny wondering if the composer had suffered a stroke halfway through.

All in all, the footage of the event was promising to be Uber and Leet's most popular video. The lead had been swapped back and forth between the pair all the way through, up until the Simurgh scored one point extra to win a dead heat. Then she'd bowed to the crowd, touched two fingers to her forehead in vague salute to Uber, and taken off vertically, disappearing into the sky overhead. Slowly, giving the pair time to get out of the way, the stage had disassembled itself into its component parts, while the screens had lowered themselves to ground level before shutting themselves off.

(Danny had checked afterward, and apparently all the requisite paperwork for the outdoor event had been filed beforehand, including the names of the participants, and nobody had noticed).

In the aftermath, Uber and Leet had made an announcement. "We've had a great run but all good things come to an end, and when the actual Simurgh participates in one of our shows, it's kind of a hint that it's time to fold our tents and disappear into the night. You've been a great audience, Brockton Bay. Thank you very much."

Interestingly enough, although Danny had spotted a few heroes and other law-enforcement personnel in the audience, nobody made a move to stop the villains from leaving. For the most part, it seemed they'd been looking at each other and asking, did that really happen? Not unlike the audience members themselves, for that matter.

While Taylor watched the show, fast-forwarding or rewinding by tapping the rim of her glasses, Danny chatted with Zach about what else they'd been doing. They ended up going into the living room, where Zach performed one of his bullshit Endbringer stunts and threw footage up on the new big-screen TV so Danny could watch the events of Ellisburg for himself.

It was, he decided, a fitting end to an interesting day.

<><>​

Taylor
Arcadia
The Next Day

"Taylor! Zach!"

I looked around in mild surprise as Amy came out of the crowd and hit Zach with a full-on flying hug. He weathered it well, taking a step back so she didn't come to too sudden a halt, then steadying her on her feet. "Hello, Amelia Claire," he said cheerfully. "You seem happy today."

"I had the best day ever, yesterday," she confirmed. "This guy came out of nowhere and had a car accident right in front of me and Vicky, and we helped, and we got it right, and nobody asked me to heal him! They knew I didn't have powers, and I know I didn't tell them!" Her smile spread right across her face.

"You did something, didn't you?" Glory Girl drifted down from above, her expression somewhere between exasperation and resignation. "It was just like when nobody cared that you beat me arm-wrestling. You make it so people just see what you want them to see."

"Very good," he praised her without an ounce of irony. "It is a perception filter, of sorts. Not many people are able to even notice it."

"Tell me about it," I said dryly. "I'm pretty sure I only spot it when you make it obvious." Like the time he'd flat-out told the news lady he was Eidolon's son, but used the perception filter thing to make her disbelieve it.

"Well, however it happens, it works for me." Amy beamed at me as she let Zach go. "People know I used to be Panacea, and they don't care that I'm not anymore."

Vicky still didn't look thrilled. "I care. If someone comes after you to get at New Wave, you don't have any powers to protect you, and I won't always be there."

"This will not happen." Zach's voice was firm. "There are no cape gangs left in the city worthy of the name. The ones who have not already been captured or turned themselves in have either left town or are preparing to do so. The unpowered adherents to those gangs are already beginning to drift away, as they are no longer guaranteed cape protection from the consequences of their misdeeds. None of them would dare attack Amelia Claire for her affiliation with New Wave, because I say so." His last three words held a weight and gravitas that made me feel they should be engraved in stone.

Amy blinked. "Uh, wow. Thanks. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, he actually had to." Vicky put her arm around her sister's shoulders. "He took your powers away, so making sure you weren't left vulnerable was the right thing to do." She eyed Zach keenly. "I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last day or so, and following what you've been up to. When I made you arm-wrestle me, did you influence me to do that?"

Zach gave her an approving look. "I did not force you to do it, if that is what you are asking. I did influence your thought processes so that you saw me in an unfavourable light and were certain you could best me, despite what you knew of my actions to that point. But your choice to insist on a contest of physical strength was just that; your choice."

"So you didn't force me into it, but you set me up and let me take the fall." Vicky didn't seem as angry as I expected her to be. "All so you could talk to Ames. Were you intending to take her powers from the beginning?"

"That was one option," Zach replied frankly. "If I could have assisted her in solving her personal issues without removing them, that would have been another one. But they were at the root of too many such issues, and so removing them turned out to be the simpler solution."

"Oh, absolutely." Amy raised her chin, a beatific expression on her face. "You have no idea how much of a weight's been lifted off my shoulders with all that. The only expectations on me are what everyone else has got. I don't even care anymore if my biological dad is a supervillain, because I know I'm not going to become one myself."

I recalled what Marquis had said in the Birdcage; without that, her comment would've made a lot less sense. "Well, that's definitely a good thing too," I observed.

"So why were Amy's problems so special?" Vicky made a circular gesture, as if to indicate the school and the city beyond. "I don't see you spending one-on-one time with any other capes to solve their issues."

"Amelia Claire's problems were the most immediate," Zach explained. "If they went out of control, she would have posed a danger to Taylor's happiness and well-being. Taylor and I have also nipped other problems in the bud that you were unaware of. As I said, there are now no cape gangs extant in Brockton Bay, and the few remaining independents are making arrangements to move along."

"Well, that's going to make things a little quieter around here," I noted. "Though Dad says Lord's Port being back in operation is really going to be a shot in the arm for local industry." I smirked. "Some shipping companies are going to be upset, though."

Amy and Vicky both looked at me, curious, but Vicky got in the question first. "Why?"

"Some of those ships had cargo on board when the port was closed off," I explained. "They could've come in and spent their money to reopen it then reclaimed their property, but so they couldn't be held responsible for that, they officially relinquished ownership to anyone who wanted to perform salvage. Not a bad deal in their eyes, given that most of the cargoes had been ruined by seawater and were literally unsalvageable by that point."

Amy got the point first. "So, when Zach did his percussive maintenance and re-floated the ships, nearly all the cargoes went back to as-new," she realised. "So, whoever got the salvage rights …"

"Mainly the Dockworkers," I confirmed with a grin.

Vicky let out a bark of laughter. "Which means the Dockworkers now have possession of a whole lot of valuable cargoes that they can sell off to interested buyers. Well, that's a good start."

"Not just the cargoes, but the ships they're sitting in, too," I reminded her. "The Dockworkers don't have much use for a bunch of ships. They prefer that someone else send the ships to them."

"Well, damn." Vicky shook her head. "That'll be a cash injection of eight figures or more into the Dockworkers' account. All this in aid of the 'keep Taylor happy' effort, huh?"

"Just gonna say, it's definitely working," I pointed out, choosing not to point out how Dad himself was now richer to the tune of just under a hundred million dollars. "Just by the way, you don't seem to be overly upset that Zach modified your feelings about him."

Vicky shrugged. "I was gonna be, but then I thought about it. There's a lot of people I've decided I didn't like that I forced a confrontation with, and I'm pretty sure more than a few of those were unfair on my part. Hell, maybe I didn't even need more than a nudge to do what I did. And anyway, I'd prefer he made me think I didn't like him, as opposed to making me think I did like him."

Amy raised her eyebrows. "Mature thinking? Not leading with your fists? Where's my sister, and what've you done with her?"

"Yeah, yeah, yuk it up." Vicky crossed her eyes and blew a raspberry at Amy. "I know damn well there's absolutely nothing I could even touch him with unless he let me. And you're happier than I've seen in a really long time, so I'm not gonna argue with results."

"Aww, thanks, sis." Amy gave Vicky a hug. "You say the nicest things."

"Only 'cause they're true." Vicky ruffled Amy's hair playfully, just as the first bell rang. "Oop, gotta get to class."

"Yeah, us too." I gave them both a nod and a smile. "See you at lunch?"

"Definitely." Vicky gave Zach a level stare. "No arm-wrestling or tapioca. Just saying."

Zach gazed blandly back. "Of course not. There is no longer any need for either one."

And off we went to class.

<><>​

Coil

Calvert had been expecting to be directed back into the continental United States, but instead he was travelling west. Following instructions from his phone (which he also noticed hadn't needed to be charged in days) he and Creep had left the vehicle in the long-term parking lot at the nearest airport and caught a plane.

For some reason, he'd expected the animated corpse to zip up his body bag and allow Calvert to take him through as checked luggage, but that wasn't to be so. Nobody seemed to look twice as the dead man, complete with corpse-white skin, black nails and bullet-hole in the middle of his forehead, shuffled in the partially unzipped body-bag up to the check-out counter along with Calvert himself. It utterly failed to surprise him that two boarding passes were already waiting for them, under the names of C. Oil and C. Reep, or that the passes actually got them onto the plane.

Calvert took the window seat—if he was to be jerked hither and yon across the landscape, he was going to do it on his own terms—and settled in for the ride. On receiving the boarding pass, he'd looked at the destination and discovered that it was Anchorage, Alaska. What he was needed for in Alaska, he had no idea, but he figured he would find out.

Beside him, Creep obediently buckled his lap-strap, accepted a complimentary packet of peanuts from a politely oblivious flight attendant, and sat there munching on the nuts. Calvert tried to avoid thinking about exactly why Creep would need to eat, and what was going to happen to the nuts once they were ingested. Instead, he looked out the window at the tarmac and waited patiently for takeoff.

<><>​

Taylor
That Afternoon

Zach and I strolled out of Arcadia (Arcadia! I still had trouble believing that!) alongside Vicky and Amy. It seemed the blonde genuinely wanted to make amends with Zach, because now she was trying to figure out just how strong he really was. Amy and I were exchanging amused glances at Zach's less than fully informative answers. From all appearances, Amy was positively blooming since Zach had taken her powers away; she was wearing bright clothing and had a much more confident step.

"I am not as strong as my older brother, but I am stronger than my sister," Zach told Vicky. "I am about as strong as my second-oldest brother. However, his arms are much longer than mine, so he can apply more leverage."

"But how strong is that?" pressed Vicky. "I know I can bench-press a cement truck, and you're stronger than that. A whole semi-truck? How many tons?"

"I have never tested my strength to its full, Victoria Dallon." Zach seemed oblivious to her frustration; I personally couldn't tell if he was pulling her leg or not. "The question has never come up until now."

"Come on, Vicky." Amy hid a smile. "Not everyone is as obsessed with exactly who's stronger than each other as you are. Leave the poor guy alone."

"But what if you went up against the Endbringers?" Vicky was nothing if not persistent. "It's always a good idea to know just how strong you really are."

Zach gave her a bland look. "Why would I battle the Endbringers?" he asked. "They are not attacking anymore." Turning to me, he held out his elbow. "Are you ready to go, Taylor? We have more important things to do, today."

"Sure." I linked my arm through his. "See you later, guys. Have a good one."

"Wait, wait!" Vicky raised her voice but she didn't try to physically stop him, which just proved she could learn. "They aren't attacking anymore? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean they are not attacking anymore," Zach responded, as if he'd said nothing at all out of the ordinary. "Have an enjoyable evening." Scooping me into his arms, he took a step, then stopped. "Taylor, I am about to exceed the speed of sound over a great distance."

I nodded. "Thanks for the warning. Let's do this."

We blurred away.

<><>​

Amy Dallon

"Speed of sound?" demanded Vicky. "He can jump across the city and beat the speed of sound on foot? How is that even fair?"

Amy rolled her eyes, though she was more amused at the situation than she let on. "This again? Seriously, Vicky, I thought you'd learned your lesson about Zach by now. That boy makes his own rules. If someone says he can't do something, he does it anyway. Just to prove he can. And if it's about Taylor's well-being, he breaks the rules even harder."

"Hmm." Vicky frowned, clearly discontented but unable to do anything about it. "Okay, fine. What did he mean about the Endbringers not attacking anymore? Was he just pulling our legs, or does he know something we don't?"

That was definitely a huge question to ask and answer. "I honestly … have no idea," Amy confessed. "Taylor says he doesn't lie. If I had to choose, I'd bet on him knowing something we don't. I mean, there was that Uber and Leet thing yesterday. If it wasn't a fake Simurgh, I mean."

Vicky blinked, discontentment giving way to confusion. "But … if that's true, it would be fantastic news. If he knows something like that for certain, why isn't he shouting it from the rooftops?"

Amy could only offer a conjecture for that one. "He doesn't seem to be all that interested by it."

"But … why not?"

"That's something we're just going to have to ask him when we see him next."

<><>​

Taylor

It was night-time when Zach stopped and let me down. Or rather, it was night-time where Zach stopped. We hadn't been moving for more than a few seconds, but all I'd gotten was an impression of blurred speed over water, followed by a flickering landscape going by too fast to pick out any details.

I felt dry earth crunching quietly under my feet, and I frowned. "Where are we?"

"We are in northern Africa," Zach said happily, just as my glasses popped up a latitude and longitude reading, then displayed a wireframe globe confirming Zach's explanation. "The one we are looking for is just over that hill. Could you take us to the top, please?" He pointed behind me, and I turned to see a low hill. Normally, I would've needed the glasses to pick it out against the starry night, but there was a distant glow framing it, reminiscent of city lights or a car's headlights.

"I can do that," I agreed, and took hold of his arm. A moment later, I had fixed on a location, then I triggered the teleport.

We arrived at the top of the hill, and I saw exactly what he was talking about. In the distance was a roiling mass of fire and smoke. I would've thought it was stationary, but my glasses enhanced the image to show me a long trail of charred destruction leading away from the constantly regenerating explosion.

"Wait," I said. "That's … uh …" Memory failed me, but my glasses didn't; the name ASH BEAST scrolled up one of the lenses, followed by a brief dossier. "Ash Beast," I concluded a moment later. "We're here for his powers?"

Zach smiled happily. "This is a good thing for him, and a good thing for us," he agreed. "He cannot turn his powers off at all. He has been alone ever since he Triggered, walking and spreading destruction."

"Ouch." I winced. "That's got to suck in so many ways." I made sure my jacket was zipped all the way up. "Do we teleport into the middle? Or what do you want to do?"

"We will jump to the edge of the effect," Zach said. "And then you may do the rest."

"Oh, okay." I pulled out the Idiot Ball. "Are we going to need this?"

He nodded, looking pleased. "Yes, Taylor. Your presence will make this much easier."

"Cool." His words gave me confidence and made me feel less like I was a fifth wheel. "Let's do this."

The jump was only a short one; we landed just a few yards short of the leading edge of destruction. As it advanced slowly toward us, I hefted the Idiot Ball. My eyes couldn't see through the fire and smoke and dust, but my glasses pinpointed a humanoid form in the centre of it all. Flicking my wrist, I threw the ball.

It crossed the distance in a fraction of a second, struck true, and arced up back toward me. At the same time, the ongoing chaos before us faded away to nothing. Only the presence of the blackened, destroyed land showed that Ash Beast had ever been there. Zach moved from my side and back again so quickly I didn't have time to react; when he returned, there was a young man of Middle Eastern appearance with him.

The guy looked maybe twenty, but it was hard to tell with his long hair and scraggly beard. His clothing was beyond ragged, basically hanging off his body. As he gaped at us, Zach produced a robe out of nowhere and hung it over the guy's shoulders; he clutched it around his body, affording him a moderate level of modesty.

When he spoke, it was in a language I didn't know (not surprising; English and high school Spanish do not a polyglot make) but then my glasses started translating for me. Because of course they did.

Who are you? How did you do that? Am I free? How long has it been?

"I cannot speak his language," Zach said. "Your earpiece will allow you to communicate with him."

"Oh, okay." Somehow, I'd expected Zach to call on his sister to help out. "Yeah, he's just asked who we are and how we did that. Also, he wants to know if he's free of his power, I guess, and how long it's been."

Turning to the man who had been Ash Beast up until thirty seconds ago, I cleared my throat and concentrated on telling my earpiece to do what Zach had said. A notification popped up on one lens of my glasses: Translating.

"We're friends," I said. "I'm Taylor and this is Zachary. Your power is currently on hold, but we can take it away permanently if you want. I'm sorry but I don't know how long it's been, exactly. Years, I think."

As I spoke, the earpiece emitted an audible hum; the guy's eyes widened with recognition and he listened intently to what I was saying.

Yes, yes, please take it away, he said, nodding urgently for emphasis. So far have I walked, so many things I've destroyed. I had thought I was going mad, that I would walk until the world ended.

I gave Zach a nod. "He says he's okay with you taking the power permanently. But … is it just me, or is he really lucid for someone who's just effectively come out of solitary after years without seeing another person? He thought he was going mad. Has he?"

"He is not exactly sane, no," Zach confirmed. "I am manipulating his perceptions so he believes he is conversing with a hallucination." Stepping forward, he placed his hand on Ash Beast's forehead then pulled back again; a shining image of a lion-headed man stepped forth, attached to Zach's hand.

While Zach bundled up the power, I moved over to the now ex force of nature. "Let me help you," I said. "Let me heal your pain."

If you can, please do it. His face was twisted with anguish. Or kill me. I deserve to die.

"I'm not going to kill you." I put my hand where Zach had, and felt the shape of his tortured mind. His thoughts were fragmented, only Zach's influence keeping them all pointed in the same direction at the same time. Carefully, I reassembled his shattered psyche, smoothing out the scars and giving him a dash of hope for the future. His memories of being Ash Beast I dulled and made distant, so he wouldn't drive himself mad again with guilt.

When I lifted my hand, he fell to his knees, staring up at me with almost religious awe.

Who are you?

"I'm nobody special." And I wasn't. Zach was the one who did all the amazing stuff. I was basically along for the ride. "Just … you've got a second chance, okay?"

A heavy backpack and a large canteen sloshing with water dropped to the ground beside the guy. "Tell him there is food and other supplies in the pack," Zach said, then pointed. "And if he walks in that direction, he will reach the nearest town in about a day."

I passed on the instructions, then turned to Zach. "Okay, I'm ready to go. Are we done here?"

He smiled at me. "We are done here."

"Cool. Where are we going now?"

He scooped me into his arms. "We are going south."

And we blurred away again, across the arid landscape.

<><>​

The Man Once Known as Ash Beast

Hashim stared at where the European teenagers had been standing. Or perhaps they'd been American; he could not tell. What he could tell was that they were as he had been, touched with powers beyond those of mortal man. Opening the pack, he found food both fresh and dried, as well as sturdy sandals and more clothing to go with the robes.

Eating his first food in he knew not how many years, he almost moaned in pleasure at the taste of fruit on his tongue. Almost, he could have thought it a dream, except that even in his waking hallucinations food never tasted of anything but ash. The canteen was at hand, and he unscrewed the top and took a long drink, more pleasure exploding throughout his body.

Once he had sated his immediate appetite, he dressed himself properly and slid his feet into the sandals. The pack went on his back and the canteen over his shoulder on its strap. The direction the girl—Taylor, she had called herself, though he likened her more to one of the malaikah for her mercy and healing—had pointed out was easy to follow. As he moved off, an odd thought kept intruding into his head.

She had a really nice jacket.

<><>​

Coil
Alaska

Calvert honestly would not have believed the Russian mafia had such a presence in Anchorage if he hadn't seen it for himself. Once he'd hired out the rugged 4x4, the apparently aimless route he'd been instructed to follow through the city had taken him past one location after another where it was clear to someone with his training exactly what was going on. But neither had he been told to stop and do something about it; just take note and move on.

Even here, the local PRT office can't keep on top of things.

They headed out of the city up past the Knik Arm then turned northwest, with Creep croaking the occasional direction or even just pointing. Calvert began to suspect what was going on a little before he saw the barriers across the road. Still, the instructions hadn't said to stop, so he kept going.

The PRT trooper who waved him down looked harried and irritated, quite likely because he was sick of idiot tourists coming north at this time of year. Calvert rolled the window down, letting in a blast of freezing air. "What's the situation, officer?"

"The situation, sir, is that this area is a no-go zone. There's a dangerous parahuman up ahead, and nobody is allowed past." The trooper didn't say you dumbass but Calvert heard it clearly anyway.

He frowned. The only problematic cape who might be in this area of the world would be … Ah, shit. Sleeper. That was a problem, alright. His powers worked well against normal people, but S-class threats who created storms that ravaged the landscape were another thing altogether.

His phone pinged, and he glanced at it. Turn around and drive back half a mile.

"Right, then. Sorry to have disturbed you." He worked the 4x4 in a rough circle, then drove back down the road, keeping an eye on the odometer for the half-mile mark. When he reached it, he didn't need the gesture from Creep to turn off into the barely visible side-road.

As they trundled down the oddly clear track, a sudden crack from behind made him jump. Looking in the rear-vision, he saw that a snow-laden branch had fallen on the road, conveniently erasing the signs that they'd turned onto the side road. This was not even close to the weirdest thing that had happened to him so far; he kept driving.

<><>​

Taylor

It was still night-time when we stopped, so I figured we were still in Africa. Apart from the surrounding area being a little more fertile, I had no clues as to where we were; at least until my glasses gave me latitude and longitude. We were down near the Tropic of Capricorn.

Once Zach put me on my feet, I stretched and shook out my arms. "I'm guessing there's a reason we're here," I said. "But I'm not sure what it is."

"Before, we faced a monster all unknowing," Zach said. "This one knows what she is and does not care." He pointed along the shallow valley in which we stood. "We need to go five miles four hundred thirty-two feet that way, and sixteen feet higher in elevation."

As with every other time he'd given me instruction like that, I somehow knew exactly where we needed to go. Taking Zach's arm in mine, I triggered the teleport, then blinked as we appeared in the middle of a bunch of buildings. Somewhere off out of sight, a generator thudded away gently, providing the sharp electric light visible here and there.

Across the way from us, a dreadlocked woman with an immense skull-headed sinuous shadow beside her faced down a bent old man.

—we have nobody to spare, the old man said, his words appearing on my glasses like before. Please, we need everyone to help in the fields.

The woman took a step forward, and the crocodile skull raised up alongside her to tower over the old man. Her voice, when she spoke, was sharp-edged and arrogant. You agreed to the bargain. My protection comes at a price. If you cannot choose someone to give their life, I will.

I knew who the woman was even before my glasses outlined both her and the living shadow in light, and provided names. "Moord Nag," I whispered to Zach. "She wants him to provide someone as a sacrifice, but he's saying they can't spare anyone from working in the fields."

I knew how this was going to go. She would murder the old guy, then anyone else she felt like, before moving on. Back home in America, Moord Nag would be a villain on the scale of the Nine. Here, she was a warlord who literally subsisted on slaughter.

Zach stepped forward, and I moved with him. "Excuse me!" he called out. "Have you heard the one about why firemen wear red suspenders?"

The old man's head snapped around to stare at us, as did Moord Nag's. Even the crocodile skull seemed to blink a few times, as if to say where did you come from?

Dutifully, I repeated what he'd said, allowing my earpiece to translate my words.

What is this? demanded Moord Nag. Who are you, and why are Americans in my territory?

"She wants to know who we are, and why we're here," I murmured, then raised my voice. "This is the end of you gouging more out of these people than they can pay," I told her. "I'm Taylor and this is Zach. He doesn't bother following rules very often."

Zach grinned, though the expression seemed to have a few more teeth in it than normal for him. "Tell her that if her pet snake can get me, it can have me." He spread his arms wide, the epitome of harmlessness.

I repeated his words, and the woman's gaze narrowed. His terms are accepted. I will also be taking your jacket. I like it.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," I muttered, then raised my voice to normal speech levels. "Come and get it."

Scavenger, said the woman. Feed.

The shadow-creature lunged forward, its crocodile-skull maw opening wide. Despite knowing exactly what Zach could do, I was almost worried for a moment. He put out his hand and caught it by the bottom jaw, then pulled it to him. I watched as he began to fold it up like a gigantic napkin, the skull swirling and spinning within the shadowed body.

Scavenger! shouted the woman, her voice sounding panicky for the first time. Back to me!

"It is too late, you know," Zach said almost conversationally. "If you had chosen to be nice about it, we might have done this away from witnesses. But now, everyone is going to see you lose your power." He wasn't even out of breath as he wrestled the shadow-snake into submission.

I repeated his words for her benefit, and she fixed on me. You. You did this. I will kill you.

The large knife came out of nowhere. She started toward me, blade gleaming in the electric lights. I didn't know much about fighting and Zach was occupied, but that didn't matter; my jacket gave me all the capability I needed. With the toe of my sneaker, I teased a rock free from the ground and flicked it into the air. Catching it without even looking, I threw it hard. Moord Nag was three yards away when the rock caught her just above the right eye, sending her over backward onto the ground.

Zach finished packing up the power and made it disappear, then looked admiringly at what I'd done. "That was very impressive, Taylor. My sister gave it nine and a half out of ten, but she always downgrades anything that does not use telekinesis."

People were peering out of dwellings as I linked my arm through his. "Because of course she would. Was that all, or did we have more places to go?"

"Oh, just one more place," he said cheerfully. "It will even be daylight!"

"Good." I glanced back at Moord Nag as she began to stir, shaking her head groggily. "Do we need to do anything about her?"

"Not unless you want to." Zach's tone was supremely uncaring. "She will either learn to run very fast in the next few minutes … or she will not."

I considered that, then decided it really wasn't my problem. "So, are we running, jumping or teleporting?"

"We can teleport if you wish," he said generously, and pointed a little west of what my glasses told me was due north. "We need to travel nine thousand, six hundred and thirty-four miles, one thousand two hundred and seventeen feet that way. Our elevation will be three thousand one hundred and twenty-three feet lower."

That was a sight farther than I'd ever teleported in one shot before, but I didn't want to let Zach down. Taking a deep breath, I let the glasses throw me up a map. It seemed we were going to … "Alaska? Why are we going to Alaska?"

"There is another powerset I require." Zach's tone was relentlessly cheerful. "This is all part of the plan for keeping you safe and happy."

I liked being safe and happy, and Zach was very good at managing that part of his job, so I decided not to argue the point. Besides, everywhere I went with him, I met all sorts of interesting people. Fixing the coordinates in my mind, I triggered the teleport.

We went from night to broad daylight, from slightly muggy warmth to bone-deep chill, all in the same instant. Almost immediately, I saw weird gusts of wind, almost rainbow-hued, picking up snow and swirling it around. Questioningly, I pointed.

"Your ball," Zach said immediately. He pointed to the north. "There is just one parahuman in that direction. Throw it, now."

I did as he said, and the ball whipped out of sight almost immediately. A second later, as Zach put his arm around me, I saw distortions crowding out of the air and the rainbow hues thickening visibly. And then the landscape around us exploded into fire and smoke.

"Zach?" I asked. "What's going on?"

"Sleeper has come to Alaska," he said in his matter-of-fact tone. "While he is on the North American continent, he is a threat to you. He detected our arrival, and the fact that you launched the ball. I am using Ash Beast's power to protect us both."

"Both?" I blinked. "Can't you just … no-sell his power, like every other one?"

"It is extremely potent," he explained. "My sister, for one, would not be strong enough to withstand it. While I might be able to protect myself, I would not be able to keep you safe before I overcame him. But with Ash Beast's power to stand between him and us, we merely have to wait."

"Wait?" I asked. "Wait for what?"

As an answer, he dropped Ash Beast's power. We stood in a circle that had been devastated by fire and explosion, but the forest beyond was equally destroyed; trees brought down to ground level and shredded into toothpicks. "For your ball to get to him," he answered me with a grin.

Scooping me up in his arms, he moved yet again; when the world came to a halt once more, I saw a human figure gesturing, rainbow hues starting to emerge from his hands and arms. The Idiot Ball was hovering beside him, caught in the rainbow aura. I began to get an inkling of what Zach had meant by 'extremely potent'.

Zach held out his hand and the black shadow snake billowed forth, a Tyrannosaurus rex skull forming for its head. It lunged for Sleeper, clamping its jaws down on him and wrapping its shadow-body around his. Eyeing the struggling figures, Zach moved closer, reaching for a trailing wisp of rainbow-stuff. I couldn't do anything physical without leafing through the little black book, but I could use the powers inherent in the items I was wearing.

Twice Sleeper tore Scavenger in half and reached for Zach, and twice I used my Gray Boy bracelet to rewind time. I hadn't used the ability to cause pain before this point, but now I hammered Sleeper with it, over and over. He roared in anger and fought back, gradually but inexorably gaining the upper hand again.

A tendril of the half-visible rainbow-stuff came licking out at me, and I dived frantically to the side—

<><>​

Coil

Calvert pulled the 4x4 to a halt at the top of a low range of hills. There was no more road to be had, so he turned off the engine and let the silence crash in again, broken only by the ticking of the hot metal as it cooled. "What now?" he asked.

Creep turned to the back seat of the hire vehicle and pulled aside a canvas cover to show something that Calvert was pretty sure wasn't part of the lease arrangement. It was a rifle, but oh what a rifle. This wasn't some piddly little .308 or even a .50 calibre affair. No, this baby had a barrel wider than anything he'd ever seen before. If he had to make an estimate, it wouldn't fall far short of an inch of interior bore.

Climbing out of the vehicle, Calvert opened the back door and slid the massive gun out, noting that the scope was of a type that would let him count the ass hairs on an elephant at two miles. He grunted as he hefted it, then looked around. There was nothing to shoot except trees and snow. Even if he flushed a rabbit or fox, one shot from this thing would render it into a fine spray of pink mist, spread over about ten square yards of forest.

That was when the storm roared into being, not five yards away. "Jesus fuck!" Calvert stepped back involuntarily, bringing up the rifle but still having no available target. He'd attended the PRT briefings about Sleeper's storm, and how nothing could withstand it. Even the toughest capes were likely to die. He wasn't about to shoot into it at random, just in case he drew Sleeper's attention.

And then, just as suddenly, the reality-warping waves of rainbow-hued energy subsided, leaving a devastated landscape before him. He didn't need Creep's gesture; he knew damn well that where he was required to be was within Sleeper's radius.

Swearing under his breath, he humped the rifle up the low rise until he reached the very summit, then brought the rifle up so he could peer through the scope. A twinkle of rainbow light caught his off-eye, and he swung the scope and zoomed in.

There he was. Zachary, the agent of Calvert's destruction. Right alongside him was the Hebert girl, wearing a high-fashion jacket. Both of them were battling Sleeper, throwing everything they had at him … and he was still winning.

He dropped to his knees right where he was. One hand unfolded the bipod so that when he went forward onto his belly on the slushy ground, the rifle was supported. His shoulder rolled forward to make firm contact with the butt of the rifle, and his eye fell into line along the scope again.

He worked the bolt and chambered a round while he steadied his breathing. In … out … in … out.

The scene swam into view as he wriggled around minutely. He automatically adjusted the scope for the range, then slid his finger into the trigger guard. The crosshairs fell onto target as he breathed in; he held for a moment and breathed out.

Just as he stroked the trigger, a flicker of rainbow movement lashed out toward the girl.

The rifle bellowed, a truly massive flare bursting out in all directions from the muzzle-brake. Calvert barely felt the kick as he tried to keep his eye to the scope.

<><>​

Taylor

I fell and rolled frantically, but it was like a living thing. Once, twice, three times, it struck at me, annihilating dirt and rocks in its path and carving divots in the ground. Another was wrapped around Zach, the Scavenger shadow nowhere in sight. Zach's eyes sought mine, and I knew he was trying to tell me to teleport away. But my glasses had fallen off, and I couldn't fix on a target that would let me save Zach as well.

And then Sleeper's head … exploded.

There wasn't just a genteel spray from one side, like I'd seen in movies when someone got shot in the head. His entire head just … went missing. Zach and I were both splattered with the remains; I was absolutely going to need a shower after this. A few seconds later, as I was sitting up and looking around, I heard the distant thunder of what had to be a rifle shot.

"Wow," I said, getting up and going to help Zach to his feet. "Are you okay? What was that?"

Zach smiled as he began gathering in Sleeper's power, skein after rainbow-sheened skein of it.

"Someone else my sister has in play. He has been very useful."

<><>​

Coil

Calvert watched as the boy finished doing what he was doing. Turning, Zachary looked directly at where Calvert lay on the hilltop and raised his hand in a wave. Reflexively, Calvert lifted his own hand in an answering wave. A moment later, boy and girl were both gone, vanished into the aether.

Standing up, Calvert picked up the rifle and began lugging it back toward the 4x4. He didn't know for a fact that he'd need it again, and his shoulder felt like one huge bruise, but he was going to call today a success.



End of Part Twenty-One

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Twenty-Two: Ongoing Consequences

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



The Next Morning
Kaiser

"Okay, in you get."

Meekly, one by one, the former members of the Empire Eighty-Eight filed out of the door into the echoing garage—the one under the PRT building, if Max was any judge—and climbed into the waiting van. Nobody was handcuffed, though the memory of how Zachary had strolled into their sanctum sanctorum and cheerfully ordered them to surrender was still strong in Max's mind. Bradley wasn't there, of course—the word was, he'd been shoved on a Birdcage transport earlier that day—and Kayden was likewise absent, probably because she'd cut ties with the Empire a while ago, but most everyone else was present.

As befitted his role as leader of the now-defunct gang, Max had been first in. The seats were surprisingly comfortable, with multiple points where a prisoner could be locked into place. None of these were being made use of, which Max attributed less to their current good behaviour and more toward the fact that everyone knew Zachary had decided that the Empire Eighty-Eight should face the justice system, and nobody was prepared to tell him otherwise.

Which was perfectly reasonable. The initial warning—having the words YOU'RE NEXT literally smashed into the windows of his office—had incited anger rather than worry, and he'd reacted accordingly. The team assembled (albeit in their civilian identities) they'd been hashing out ways to find out who Zachary really was, and where to find him, when he literally busted the door open and walked in. After that, of course, it had all gone to shit. And looking Zachary in the eye when the young man had casually suggested they could lose their powers for real if they chose to keep pretending they had none … he'd been convinced.

There were times to fight, and times to surrender. This was one of the latter. They were going to their pre-trial hearing, after which they'd be returned to their moderately comfortable cells. The best strategy at this point was to convince the authorities by their every action that they were truly remorseful for their previous activities.

Except … not everyone seemed to have gotten the memo.

The doors closed and there was a double thump on the side of the van from one of the guards outside. Just as the engine started, Alabaster turned to Max. "This is bullshit." He kept his voice down, but Max heard him clearly enough.

"Don't do anything stupid," Max warned him in an undertone. "Remember what Zachary said—"

"Yeah, I heard him, and it was bullshit," Alabaster sneered. "He bluffed the lot of you." Conveniently, he left out the fact that he too had been hoodwinked, if that was indeed what had taken place. "Take away our powers? Yeah, right. If he could've, he would've, right there. He didn't."

"You don't know he couldn't have," Max argued, but it was already a lost cause. When Alabaster decided on something, convincing him to drop the idea was like trying to divert the course of an avalanche.

"No, I don't, but it's a lot more likely than maybe he could, and he never got around to it." Alabaster stood up from his seat, steadying himself with the overhead handholds. "I'm blowin' this popsicle stand. Who's with me?"

The two guards next to the door both stood up as well. One levelled a confoam sprayer at Alabaster; Max knew he'd get caught in the splash radius, as well as everyone else at that end of the van. "Sit your paper-white ass down, right the fuck now!"

The rest of the Empire sat tight. Krieg caught Max's eye and shook his head fractionally, but Max had already come to the same conclusion. Not worth it. Cricket seemed to be considering it, but Krieg elbowed her and she subsided again.

"Fuckin' pussies," spat Alabaster. With the sort of explosive surge he was able to muster, he was halfway along the van before the guard triggered the containment foam. Alabaster, canny fighter that he was, dived to the floor under the stream of foam, did a very credible forward roll and smashed his heels into the guard's chest. The sprayer, having half-engulfed Max and Krieg, sprayed blobs onto the ceiling then cut out as the guard's finger came off the trigger.

Once more on his feet, Alabaster hammered the guards relentlessly. Even in their armour, Max knew they had to be taking a beating. And then the renegade Empire Eighty-Eight member managed to get the doors open. They were travelling down the street by now, but that sort of thing had never fazed the resetting cape. Flinging them wide open, he dived out onto the road.

<><>​

Taylor

"Well, that was a fun day yesterday, for a very specific definition of 'fun'," I said as I forked bacon onto my plate. "I wonder if Ash Beast made it to civilisation?" Moord Nag's fate was a somewhat darker question, but I decided not to speculate on that one. And we knew what had happened to Sleeper. It had taken me some time to be sure I'd washed all of him out of my hair.

"He will be there soon," Zach informed me, accepting the plate of fried egg from Dad. "Thank you, Danny. They smell delicious." He turned to address me. "His name is Hashim. The water and food we left him is holding out, and he will be able to find a place to sleep and work. Nobody will suspect him of being who he was. There are already many displaced persons in the world; one more will not raise eyebrows."

"Oh, good." I'd already hoped he would be able to make his way, but to have Zach confirm it like that made me feel a lot better. "So, what are we doing today? I mean, apart from school?"

Zach smiled beatifically as he prepared to demolish his bacon and eggs. "There are some people in Europe who need to be dealt with. We will deal with them."

<><>​

Hookwolf

This whole deal sucked. One minute he'd been on top of the world, beating crap out of Lung, and the next some snot-nosed little punk had smacked him three city blocks into the back of a dog-catcher's van. He'd woken up in a holding cell, and now he was on a transport to the Birdcage. They'd tried this shit before but every time, the Empire had gotten him free before the transport even left the city limits. Now, the Empire was sitting in holding cells of their own and he was actually on the way to the damn 'Cage.

He wasn't quite sure whether it was a good thing or bad thing that Lung was sharing the same transport. It would've made it a little easier to endure the ride if there was someone he could actually talk to along the way, maybe plan an escape with, but of course they'd stuck him with the guy he'd literally been fighting with before they were both captured. Worse, they were both buried up to the neck in containment foam, and Lung had a constant sprinkler dousing him with water.

In consequence, they'd spent the trip ignoring each other. Brad knew his chances of getting out of this were reducing by the mile, but even his sharpest blades had failed to slice through the foam to any real extent. If he'd thought Lung wouldn't leave him behind at the first opportunity, he might have offered to try to cut the Asian gang boss free instead of himself, but there was no way he could take that chance. The only thing worse than getting sent to the Birdcage along with Lung would be getting sent to the Birdcage and letting Lung go free.

The van rumbled up a ramp then bumped over some kind of minor obstacle before doing a turn and reverse and coming to a halt. The water spray ended and another liquid came out of the nozzles. This one, Brad was familiar with; confoam dissolving agent.

He tensed as the foam washed away from around his body. If he was going to have any chance to escape, this was it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lung also getting ready. With any luck, the guards would focus on the metal-skinned dragon—Lung wasn't there quite yet, but he was definitely bulking up—and give Brad the chance to make a run for it.

When the van doors opened, he didn't need the synthesised voice telling him to exit the vehicle. Out he leaped, already growing his armour, looking around for the fastest route to freedom. Lung was only half a second behind, cradling a growing fireball in one hand.

But they weren't outside. The van had backed up to some kind of loading bay, with about two inches of clearance on either side. Across the expanse of cracked and dirty concrete, set into the metal wall, was a large double door, incongruously made of dark carved wood. Flanking these doors was a pair of Dragon suits.

"Hookwolf, Lung, stand down or get hurt." The voice was feminine and sounded almost bored. Both suits had large-bore guns aimed directly at the incoming prisoners. "We can blow holes in you and drag you through into induction while you're regrowing your limbs, or you can walk through. Your move."

For half a second, Brad thought about calling their bluff—no way they'd open fire just like that, would they?—but then Lung lowered his hands from the aggressive posture, the fireball winking out. Gradually, he began to reduce in bulk.

Well, crap. With Lung there to take some of the hits, Brad would maybe have been willing to take on the suits. On his own, he wouldn't stand a chance against two suits, especially in a confined area like this. Reluctantly, he retracted the armour into his body.

"Good move." The Dragon suits stepped forward, while the wooden doors—why the hell did they have wooden doors in a place like the Birdcage, anyway?—unlatched and swung open silently. "Go on through."

There was no way he was going to let a pansy-ass like Lung take the lead, so Brad strode through the doorway and into what looked like a carpeted reception area, complete with some flunky sitting behind a desk. There was even a potted plant in the corner. This could've been a DMV office anywhere in the States, and indeed it shared the same oppressive feeling of soul-draining ennui.

Stomping up to the desk, Brad prepared his most intimidating glare, only to falter when he realised just who he was glaring at. "Holy fuck," he blurted. "Teacher?"

He'd never met the guy in person, of course, but Terrell's face was familiar to him. Teacher had taken out the Vice President a few years back, followed by the British Prime Minister, which meant he had serious chops. But his expression now, seated behind the desk with BIRDCAGE INDUCTION on a little sign next to him, was that of a man consigned to the very depths of Hell.

"Please," begged Teacher. "Kill me."

"What?" Brad was vaguely aware Lung had caught up, but was saying nothing. "You're Teacher, man. You're the king of conspiracies. You should be running this place."

Teacher sobbed out loud. It was slightly alarming to see the ugly little man breaking down like this. "I've tried. There are no loopholes. None. Every single one is closed. And I can't break the law." He reached across the desk beseechingly. "But you can. Please, just one stab. Or break my neck. Something. Anything to get me out of here."

"Now, now," said one of the Dragon suits reprovingly. "Incitement to commit murder is also against the law. Kindly cease and desist. You have a job to do."

Terrell whimpered and nodded. Reaching back, he took up two forms and handed them across the counter. His voice was colourless and flat when he spoke next. "Fill these in and hand them back, please."

Shaken by the encounter, Brad took the form and studied it. At the top, it asked for his name, which he had expected. But then it went on to ask other questions, some of which had him scratching his head. Favoured nickname? Preferred brand of alcohol or soda? Preferred reading material? Preferred TV shows? Preferred leisure activities? Religious denomination? Favoured sporting team? General political views? Medical requirements? Smoker or non-smoker? The inane questions went on and on.

There was a pen chained to the table he went to, so he started on the form, scribbling in each answer after some thought. Part of him wanted to crumple it up and throw it away or write in ridiculous concepts just to screw with whatever data-collection algorithm they were feeding this stuff to, but the look on Terrell's face stuck with him. If Dragon could mess with Terrell that hard just by shoving the man behind a desk, he didn't want to know what she would do him if he screwed with the form. Shit, she might put me back there. He honestly could not imagine a worse fate.

After he handed the form back, he and Lung were ushered out through another set of double doors. As he went, he heard Teacher whimper, "Help me …" just before the doors closed behind them.

They entered an elevator large enough to host a cage-fight with room to spare, so the Dragon suits fitted in easily. The entire thing rumbled downward, making him wonder just how far underground they were going. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lung glancing at the walls and roof of the elevator car, giving him the impression that the Asian gang boss was having much the same thoughts.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, onto a wide carpeted area. As Brad stepped out, he took in the large open space. A tasteful chandelier hung from concrete beams overhead, and there was a game of billiards going on at a table across to one side. Several well-appointed sofas and armchairs were set up with a good view of a huge-screen TV, upon which a gridiron game was currently playing out. And populating this utterly unexpected setting were … supervillains, one and all. Some of whom Brad knew of, some he knew personally, and some that just looked like villains.

"Ahh, good morning." A tall man with a neatly trimmed beard came to meet them. "I'll take it from here, ladies. Thank you kindly."

"All good, Marquis. Let us know if you need anything." One of the Dragon suits stepped back into the elevator, while the other started off across the room, where everyone apparently … ignored it.

Marquis. Brad knew that name. He'd never met the guy but even ten years later, Marquis was a minor legend in Brockton Bay. "Hey," he said, holding out his hand. "Hookwolf."

Marquis shook it once, briefly. "I know of you," he said. "And you too, Lung. Welcome to the Birdcage."

Lung, silent for so long, chose to speak up. "This is not how I expected it to be."

"Well, no." Marquis chuckled wryly. "This is all very new. We had a visitor recently, a young man by the name of Zachary. He remodelled the place and changed the way things work around here."

"Remodelled." Brad said the word almost questioningly. He'd seen Zachary's capabilities, but this seemed beyond even those.

"Remodelled." Marquis repeated it, firmly. "The carpet, the elevator, the billiard table, furniture, the television set … everything. He rebuilt the Birdcage from top to bottom. Teacher is now in Administration, and his previous minions are now without a boss. His previous cell-block—Block T—is now for newcomers. You can take up residence there until you decide to either move into another block to be closer to whatever friends you make in here, or meet with Zachary and move into the accommodation block upstairs, where most of us are." He ticked points off on his fingers. "We have drink dispensers that supply coffee, soda and alcohol. They're both down here and upstairs. Do not abuse these privileges, or they will be cut off … for you, and you alone."

Brad shared a glance with Lung. Access to booze plus a TV the size of that one to watch the game on … his preconceptions about the Birdcage were starting to seriously take a beating. Lung looked equally disconcerted.

"How about smokes?" he asked, at the same time as Lung said, "What about women?"

"Cigarettes have their own dispensers," Marquis replied smoothly. "You start at one pack a week, but the longer you keep up your good behaviour, the more quickly you will be able to access a new pack. As for women … well, they have their own half of the Birdcage. The gate between is guarded from both sides. The same goes for the accommodation block. Some women have ongoing relationships, either with other women or with some of the men. Some others are willing, for a price. Anyone who's not interested is to be left alone. Nothing happens without consent." His gaze hardened. "It was already my way before the remodelling, but now it's an iron-clad rule for all of us. The penalty for breaking it is death. Do you understand?"

"Okay, yeah, got it." Brad liked it when the rules were laid down beforehand. Marquis didn't seem to be playing around. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Marquis started off across the room, gesturing for Brad and Lung to follow. "I'll show you where to get your basic bedding and clothing." He led them into another part of the complex and pointed out a large double door. "You won't be able to go up there until you've seen Zachary. That leads to the accommodation block and the Yard. It's got open sky; just the place to go when you're feeling claustrophobic."

"Open to the sky?" Lung sounded puzzled. "And people don't escape?"

"You can only go up there if you've accepted a collar that prevents you from breaking the law," Marquis explained, sounding totally matter-of-fact. "Escaping is against the law. I've taken up sunbathing. There isn't much sun at this latitude, but it's the thought that counts. I'm actually living up there, but I came down to give you two your induction when I heard you were in from Brockton Bay."

"And books?" Bradley recalled another part of the form. "You got those in here, too?"

Marquis nodded. "Why, yes. We have quite the library now. As everyone hands their preferences in, we get more books. I'm finding the opportunity to enjoy some I've never encountered before."

"You sound very happy for someone who is stuck in here forever," Lung declared. "A gilded cage is still a cage."

"Not forever, no." Marquis raised his brows at their expressions. "That's another thing Zachary changed. Once you've accepted the no-crime collars and move into the accommodation block upstairs, you can see about filing an appeal. It might take a few years, but you can get out."

Brad stared at him. "You're shitting me. We can get out? For real?"

"As you say, for real." Marquis gave him an austere smile and a nod. "It is certainly something to think about, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is." And in the meantime, the chance to settle back with a smoke and a brewski to watch the game on TV …

Brad could think of far worse ways to pass the next few years.

<><>​

Coil

Calvert was glad to be out of Alaska. The place was far too cold for his liking. He'd retained the rifle, though, and the box of ammunition that came with it. It was ridiculously heavy and his shoulder was still sore, twelve hours and the breadth of a continent later, but good God could it deliver a hurting downrange.

The instructions on his phone had said to come back to Brockton Bay, so he had boarded the first flight from Anchorage. Just for laughs, he'd split the timeline and in the throwaway one he'd presented the rifle as 'golf clubs' to go into the cargo bay. When the airline staff accepted this without a demur, he'd almost had to pick his jaw up off the floor, but he'd recovered soon enough and the throwaway timeline quickly became the keeper.

So now, way too many hours later (some of which he'd slept in the air) he stepped off the commuter train from Boston, his luggage in his hand and his 'golf bag' (which people still didn't seem to recognise as anything else) slung over his shoulder. Creep shuffled after him, which would've caused Calvert some serious cognitive dissonance if he'd allowed himself to think about the matter. People clearly saw Creep, because they stepped around him, and gave him peanuts on the plane. But they equally obviously didn't see what he was, or their brains filled in some other image, for the simple reason that they didn't scream and run.

The other problem with Creep was that he couldn't shuffle very fast; a body-bag didn't lend itself to rapid movement. But no matter how fast Calvert walked (or even ran) Creep was always there, right at his side. Or waiting in the car when Calvert got there.

He was much happier since he'd decided not to think about it anymore, and went at his own pace.

Calvert's phone pinged, and he stopped to drag it from his pocket. As per usual, there was no header, but the message included a set of terse instructions and a diagram. When he studied it, he realised he knew the location. Forsberg Gallery, balcony level. From that high up, the building had a commanding view of the city. There was a time appended, some forty-five minutes hence.

Stowing his phone back in his pocket, he took up his luggage again and headed out toward the cab stand. Brockton Bay's public transport system wasn't exactly the best, but the cabs were usually reliable. And if they looked problematic, he could split time and try more than one.

In the event, the cab he got into seemed clean enough. The driver didn't appear bothered by either Creep's morbid appearance or the ridiculously high-powered rifle Calvert was carrying, but that could've been the thing that had been making people turn a blind eye all this time, or it might just have been a Brockton Bay thing. Cabbies in this city learned not to see anything that might end up being a problem.

He spent the drive to the Forsberg Gallery catching up on local news. Lung's capture, along with that of Oni Lee, he'd learned about just before he made his run for it. The Empire Eighty-Eight turning themselves in was an eye-opener, as was the capture of the Merchants. Less so, of course, if he assumed Zachary was neck-deep in both incidents.

The cabbie cackled out loud when he described Skidmark smacking into Director Piggot's office window, then sliding all the way down the face of the building. Somehow the footage of this, supposedly sealed behind PRT firewalls, had made it into the public domain and gone viral in a huge way. Not as huge as the Uber-Simurgh dance-off, of course, but very little would top that.

The cab dropped Calvert and Creep at the Forsberg, and they went inside. Yet again, nobody paid them the slightest bit of attention where normally they should've been drawing all eyes. Unshaven, his heavy jacket draped over his shoulder and his rifle in plain view, Calvert would've passed for a desperado in any Western, even before Creep shuffled into the scene and made it into a zombie movie. But he spent the elevator trip upward politely discussing the pros and cons of Impressionism versus Surrealism with a distinguished gentleman who introduced himself as the curator of the museum and never spared the looming dead man a second glance.

At the balcony level, Calvert strode from the elevator with Creep following behind. He negotiated his way through the building until he located the balcony itself. The view was as impressive as he'd figured it would be, but time was ticking down and he didn't have the luxury of sightseeing. Dropping his carry-bag at his feet and unslinging the rifle, he knelt at the balcony rail and put the weapon to his shoulder.

The diagram had shown him which direction to look, so he sighted between two buildings and carefully focused the scope until he was able to pick out the cracks in the sidewalk. Opening the breech, he slid one of the oversized rounds into it, then pushed the bolt forward carefully. The rifle didn't actually have a safety-catch so once the bolt was seated, the only thing stopping it from firing was to not have his finger on the trigger.

A quick glance at his watch told him the appointed time was almost upon him. He settled down, the stock firmly planted against his shoulder and his eye to the scope. He had a very specific target, and he was ready to carry out his appointed task.

One second before the appointed time, a PRT van showed up on his scope. As he watched, the back doors flew open and a man leaped out, rolling over and over on the road. Not just any man; while he wore convict orange, the absconder bore pure white skin, white hair and so on. Even as he settled the crosshairs on his target, Calvert knew who he was.

Alabaster.

The fugitive climbed to his feet, turning to shout something (no doubt suitably defiant) at his former captors. Unsure of which way Alabaster was going to go, Calvert split time. In the first instance, he held steady. The other led just a little to the right.

In both instances, his finger stroked the trigger, then added just a tiny bit of pressure.

With a report that echoed across the city and reverberated from Captain's Hill, the rifle fired. Flame blasted from the muzzle-brake, and the stock hammered hard into his already-bruised shoulder.

As the smoke cleared, in the one instance, the bullet had barely grazed Alabaster's cheekbone, the man having turned his head slightly. Even so, the impact had blown off half Alabaster's head. But as Calvert watched, the ragdoll figure reverted to fully healthy and scrambled to his feet again. He'd clearly missed the important half of Alabaster's brain.

In the other instance, the effect was much more impressive. Alabaster had moved directly into the shot, and the transmitted kinetic energy of the bullet converted his head, neck and part of his upper chest into shreds of gore and drifting pink mist. His body slumped, then fell over. Long seconds passed, and there was no resetting, no revival.

Alabaster was dead.

People hadn't noticed Calvert coming up, but that didn't mean they would continue to not notice him now that the shot had been fired. Quickly and smoothly, he slung the rifle and took up his luggage. His best bet now was to take the elevator down and vanish into the woodwork until he got his next orders.

It wasn't the life he would've chosen for himself, but it definitely had its moments.

<><>​

Kaiser

It all happened so suddenly. The doors of the van were still open as Alabaster rolled and then got to his feet. Max saw him make an obscene gesture and open his mouth to shout something, but whatever he intended to say never made it to the open air as his head basically disintegrated, along with everything from mid-chest upward. Just for a moment, Max suspected some sort of implanted bomb to prevent this exact scenario, but he was reasonably certain the PRT didn't have any Tinkers willing to do that sort of work.

And then the rifle-shot echoed across the city. Max didn't know how far away it had come from, but it was still shockingly loud. As the PRT van began to slow down, Max resigned himself to being partially encased in containment foam for quite some time to come.

The PRT, he suspected, would have other things on their collective minds.

Also, he was fairly sure that any thought of potential escape among the rest of the group had been extremely thoroughly quashed. Accept the sentence. Do the time.

It seemed the safest option, right at that moment.

<><>​

Director Piggot

"A sniper shot." Emily knew a little about sharpshooting, and she did her best to keep the scepticism out of her voice. "From the Forsberg?"

Miss Militia nodded. "I traced it back. It's the only location that has a viewpoint from that angle. Range, one and a half miles."

Emily frowned. "Would the sniper have had a particularly wide field of view?"

"No." Miss Militia slid a photo onto the desk. "Just between these two buildings."

Leaning back in her chair, Emily thought this over. "So … our sniper was set up on the balcony of Forsberg Museum, where nobody saw or heard him, at just the right angle to see the precise spot where Alabaster overpowered the guards and jumped out of the van. He fired one shot, and turned Alabaster's entire head and neck into a fine spray. Then vanished into nowhere."

Miss Militia nodded. "Those are the facts, yes. The bullet blew a chunk out of the sidewalk after it canoe'd Alabaster's upper chest, and we got enough fragments to guess at a calibre."

Emily frowned. "My guess is an overpowered hollow-point fifty, or maybe an explosive load. One or the other hitting at just the right angle might've been enough to do all that damage, right?"

"That was my thought too," Miss Militia said. "But the fragments told us differently. We actually got measurable curvature off a couple of them. Extrapolating from that, we're looking at a ninety-five-calibre round."

"Ninety-five?" Emily's brows rose all the way up her forehead. "That's bigger than a ten-gauge shotgun slug!" The catastrophic damage to Alabaster's head and body, far from a fluke of circumstance, became a lot more understandable now. "Who's got one of those in this city?"

Miss Militia shrugged. "There's only one round made to that size. They've manufactured exactly three rifles capable of firing it. And those rifles are classified as Destructive Devices in every state bar Texas. We've tracked ownership of all three rifles to Texas, but while two of them are right where they're supposed to be, the third one has been reported missing by its owner."

Emily shook her head. She could hazard a very good guess as to the rough location of the third rifle. Somewhere in Brockton Bay. "Well, shit."

<><>​

That Afternoon
Taylor

"Hey, Taylor!"

I turned as I heard my name being called, just in time to be glomped by Amy. Catching her weight, I spun around with her. "Hey, Amy. It's good to see you, too."

She was grinning all over her face, and no wonder; my gloves told me her system was full of happiness endorphins, and my glasses agreed. "I know, I know. I was just feeling so good, and I wanted to say hi."

"It is good that you are feeling good," Zach said. "It shows I have done the right thing."

"Oh, you have, you have." Amy beamed at the both of us. "One of the girls in my class asked me out today. We're going to the movies. This is my very first date that Vicky hasn't set up for me!"

I blinked a couple of times. That statement had layers that probably needed unpacking, but now wasn't the time. "Well, I'm glad for you. I hope you have lots of fun."

"Thank yooou!" She took the time to give Zach a quick hug, then vanished into the crowd.

"Well," I said, straightening my jacket. It didn't really need it, but I liked to straighten it anyway. "That was definitely a thing. I'd say your instincts were right on the money when it came to Amy."

"It is good that you think so," agreed Zach. "Hello, Victoria. Are you looking for Amelia Claire?"

Thus alerted, I looked around as Glory Girl showed up with a pensive expression on her face. "Oh, hi, Vicky."

"Hey, Taylor. Zach. Yeah, I lost track of her after class. She sent me a message to not worry about a lift today, but I just wanted to talk to her face to face about it." She eyed me suspiciously as I totally failed to keep a poker face. "What? What's going on?"

"Nothing, I swear." I shook my head. "She's got a date tonight, so I suspect she's gonna ride on the bus with the other girl to spend more time with her."

Vicky looked dumbfounded. "Ames? A date? With a girl? When did this happen?"

"Amelia Claire informed us that the girl asked her for a date to the movies today," Zach said helpfully. "We are unaware as to how long she has been associating with this girl before now."

"But no, wait." Vicky rubbed the back of her head, sounding perplexed. "Ames likes girls? How come she never told me that?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea. My gaydar's pretty well for shit, too. Anyway, see you later. Have a good night."

"Yeah, okay, seeya." She meandered off absently.

As we headed outside to find a clear area, I turned to Zach. "Did you know Amy was into girls? Because I didn't."

"Amelia Claire was not into girls, plural," he informed me blandly. "She was into one girl but could not carry that attraction through."

I stopped still, staring at him. "Please tell me she wasn't into me," I begged. "I'd never forgive myself for making her feel rejected because I didn't know."

"No, Taylor, Amelia Claire was never attracted to you before. She believes you are attractive now, but she thinks of you much more as a valued friend than a potential romantic partner." He paused. "Her primary attraction was always toward Victoria."

It took me a second to parse that. "Oh," I said quietly. "Oh, shit. No wonder she never said anything."

"You are correct." Zach took the lead again, but even though he was facing away from me, I heard his voice clearly over the babble of the crowd. "The conflict between what she wanted and what she could not have and dared not ask for was tearing her apart. When I removed her powers, I took the liberty of damping down that singular attraction and spreading it out a little to include all girls of her age. She is now of the opinion that the removal of her powers allowed her to see other girls as attractive without feeling guilty about somehow 'cheating' on her sister. And now that she is no longer the unattainable Panacea …" He let his voice trail off.

"Other girls can feel comfortable asking her out." I nodded. "Okay, I'm a little dubious about the whole 'changing how she feels about Vicky' aspect but the end result seems to have justified it. Is there any chance Vicky would've been interested in her?"

Zach shook his head as we came to a halt outside. "Not without a much more serious alteration of Victoria's standards of attractiveness. I suspect if I had done that, you would yell at me quite a lot."

"Damn right I would." I grinned at him. "So, Amy's happier than she's been in a long time. I suspect Vicky's more puzzled about Amy not hanging around her every hour of the day, but she'll get over it. Anything more we need to deal with here, before we go and do that thing in Europe?"

"No, Taylor," he said. "I believe we are done here for the moment. Would you like me to run you there, or shall we teleport?"

I tilted my head, thinking about it. "I'm thinking … teleport. I need the practice, anyway."

"On the contrary, you are becoming quite adept," Zach said. "But if you wish to teleport, we will teleport. Our first stop is Paris; three thousand four hundred two miles, four thousand one hundred twenty-five feet that way, and vertically upward sixty-three feet. Be ready to throw the Idiot Ball the instant we arrive."

As usual, the teleport power allowed me to know exactly where we were going, from his instructions. Wrapping my arm through his, I concentrated for a second and triggered the teleport.

We popped onto the sidewalk of a back street, not ten feet from where a woman in a white dress with alabaster skin and white hair, wearing a mask depicting a snarl, was hovering over the street. I didn't need prompting; I threw the Idiot Ball. It bounced off the side of her head; as she fell to the street, Zach gathered me up and we blurred out of there.

"Wait," I said, once I'd caught my breath. I hadn't known who the woman was, but my glasses did. "That was one of the Three Blasphemies. Are you here to destroy them? Why didn't we stay, if she was depowered?"

"The Three Blasphemies are not human," Zach observed, leaning against the rail of the observation deck. Because of course we were at the top of the Eiffel Tower, at night. Paris, spread out before us, was amazing, but I was too busy listening to Zach to take it in. "They are constructs, sharing power. Destroy one, and another will emerge. The one you assaulted has already regained her power. But now we have gained their attention."

To me, that sounded like a bad thing, but Zach seemed upbeat about it so I decided to reserve judgement for the moment. "Okay, so what do we do now?"

Zach smiled. "We have managed to mildly irritate them. It is my intention to make them so angry they forget themselves."

That still sounded like a bad thing to me. Thinking back, I'd heard they were powerful enough to survive even a bout against Eidolon himself. That was a very exclusive club indeed. "And what happens then?"

Beaming happily at being asked the important question, Zach put his hands together as though applauding, then lifted them apart. "Boom."

I wasn't exactly thrilled about being a part of any 'boom' the Three Blasphemies were likely to generate, but Zach seemed okay with it, and I'd long since decided to trust him with my life. Besides, the Three Blasphemies had hurt quite a few people during their time in Europe, so it was about time they got their comeuppance. However it was Zachary had this planned.

"Okay, then," I said, trying to keep any tinge of doubt out of my voice. "Let's do this."

"That is the spirit, Taylor." Zach beamed at me. "I am about to open a series of portals. When I open a portal, I will need you to throw the Idiot Ball through the portal at the target you see. Can you do that?"

I summoned the Idiot Ball between my middle and index finger. "I can totally do that."

"Good." He gave me a look of approval, entirely different from his usual smile. This one was serious. "It is very good to have someone I know I can totally depend on."

I knew how powerful Zach was, how little he truly needed someone like me helping him. But he'd never, ever lied to me in any significant way. And to have him say this to me, and to mean it as far as I could tell, gave me a feeling of confidence such as I'd never had before. If he'd told me I could walk on water in that same tone, I wouldn't have even bothered taking my shoes off before putting it to the test.

There was little I could say in return, except for one word. "Likewise." It was all that needed to be said.

A hint of his smile widened his mouth slightly. "Thank you. Ready … now!"

At his gesture, the shimmering portal opened in front of me, and I tossed the Idiot Ball through at the Blasphemy on the other side. This time, her mask was smiling, but I was willing to bet she wasn't smiling behind it, especially after the ball bounced off her nose and back through the portal. And then Zach moved … and he was holding her mask as the portal blinked out. Then he put it on.

I would've been stunned at the audacity, but he was already opening another portal. I threw the ball again, hitting the masked woman—snarling, so the one we'd met first—in the right eye. As I caught the ball, Zach moved again, grabbing her mask. But this time, he paused before closing the portal so that she could see he was wearing her sister's mask.

He handed me the snarling mask and I put it on. Somehow, the glasses I had on managed to conform to their shape, so I could see through them and the mask eyeholes at the same time. I was beginning to get an idea of his strategy so when he opened the portal a third time, I made sure she could see me in the mask just as the Idiot Ball bounced off her chin. And when the portal closed, Zach held her mask.

"Okay, I'm pretty sure they're angry now," I said. I may or may not have been grinning widely myself. "What's next? Wedgies?"

"Hmm," Zach said thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side. "I had not considered wedgies. Perhaps in future. But for now, we give the masks back."

On the face of it (hah!) that sounded a little self-defeating, but I was willing to trust Zach in this. He'd been batting a thousand so far. "Okay," I said. "Idiot Ball again?"

"Of course," he said, as though it had never been in doubt. Taking off the mask he wore, he opened the portal again.

I was ready, tossing the Idiot Ball through and doinking whichever Blasphemy it was on the forehead, just before Zach held up the mask in front of the portal, waggling it tauntingly. I added an impromptu, "Nyah nyah!" before she snatched it back and jammed it on her face.

For the next portal, Zach reached out for 'my' mask, so I gave it to him. The glasses I was still wearing reconfigured back to their normal shape, and I readied the Idiot Ball. I could tell we were entering the endgame of his strategy, and I didn't want to miss my cue.

Again, I verbally mocked the Blasphemy (after Idiot Balling her, because I'm not stupid) and she grabbed the mask Zach was waving in her face. Like the first one, she didn't bother looking at the front of the mask, just shoving it back on.

Anger. It can be so useful, when weaponised.

The last Blasphemy came so close to blasting us that there was a flare of energy before the Idiot Ball connected, but that was all she had. Furious at being shut down, she snatched the mask even faster than the other two had. The portal closed, and Zach paused. "Taylor?"

"Yes, Zach?" I didn't know how he was going to top what he'd just done, but I was ready for anything.

"This time … let them catch it."

And that was his plan. His gorgeous, simple plan. I felt him putting his arm protectively around my shoulders, then he opened three portals directly above our heads. These were larger than the others, so the Three Blasphemies were looking directly at each other. And in between the three … I tossed the Idiot Ball.

All three recognised it, of course. And like Vicky that one time, they all tried to catch it. Also like Vicky … I let them.

Three sets of fingers latched onto the Ball, and three horrifically powered and extremely pissed off individuals, all looking at someone else wearing their mask … did the absolute stupidest thing they could possibly do.

As Zach had said: 'boom'.

Between the powers inherent in my jacket and Zach's protective capability, the explosion didn't even touch me. The observation deck of the Eiffel Tower, along with the next fifty feet down, was obliterated. (I hadn't noticed Zach moving everyone else to safety until after it happened, but that was Zach for you).

As gently as a feather, we drifted down until we stood atop the ruined stump of the Tower. I looked around curiously. "So … are they dead?"

After ensuring that I had proper footing, Zach made a gathering-in motion. Wispy threads appeared between his hands, thickening as he turned them. "Yes. They have been destroyed, in the only way it was possible to do so quickly. Turning them against each other."

"Nice." I waited until he had their power bundled up and stowed away, then tapped my foot on the twisted metal of the Eiffel Tower. "So … you gonna clean up your mess?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Taylor. I am going to clean up my mess." Raising his foot in turn, he stamped hard on the iron underfoot. Against all intuition and logic, the entire structure shivered. By the time the shaking subsided, the Eiffel Tower was twenty feet taller. He did it twice more; after the last one, all damage had been erased, the paintwork was gleaming and new, and every rivet gleamed as though freshly installed. "Does that satisfy you?"

I grinned and leaned my head against his shoulder. "Yeah, it totally does. Now, there's just one thing I wish I had."

He raised his eyebrows as he put his arm around me. "What is that, Taylor?"

I gestured out over the gorgeous night-time vista of Paris. "A camera."

Even though I was watching carefully, I was sure he hadn't so much as flickered, and yet he was holding a camera where before he'd had no such thing. "Like this, Taylor?"

I shrugged, deciding I wasn't even going to query it. "Yeah, Zach. Exactly like that. Thanks."

"You are welcome, Taylor."



End of Part Twenty-Two

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Twenty-Three: Accelerating the Agenda

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


Atop the Eiffel Tower
Taylor

"It's really nice up here," I said, aiming the camera through the protective mesh and taking another photo, this time of the lights along the Seine. I already had a dozen photos of the Parisian nightscape as it was, but such was the whirlwind of life with Zachary that I couldn't count on having time to get back to enjoy the view again, any time soon. "Even if you hadn't just goaded the Three Blasphemies into blowing each other up."

"You are the one who did all the hard work with the Idiot Ball, Taylor," he said with a smile. "I merely opened portals to where they were needed."

I snorted but didn't argue with him. For someone of his amazing (if not terrifying) level of power, he was remarkably self-effacing. To him, that was what had happened.

As I pointed the camera in a different direction, trying to zoom in on the Arc de Triomphe, I caught a flicker of movement crossing several of the city lights. My glasses picked it up a moment later, outlining an incoming form. "We've got a cape," I warned.

"It is a hero," Zach assured me. "Let him know that we will be leaving soon."

"Okay." Zach's peculiar brand of Move along, nothing to see here never got old for me. I took the photo, then waited for the cape to arrive.

As they got closer, I could tell it was a guy. His costume and cape were patterned in red, white and blue—the French patriotic colours as well as American, I reminded myself—and across his chest was splashed the French flag with the Arc itself overprinted in gold. My glasses popped up with a name: TRIOMPHE.

"He's going to ask us what we're doing up here, what happened to the Tower, and why it's in pristine condition, isn't he?" I was no kind of a precog, but even I could read the writing on the wall.

"That is a fair assessment, yes." Zach waited alongside me as Triomphe came up alongside the safety mesh. I wondered if the guy knew there was someone with an English-language translation of his name in Brockton Bay. A moment later, I mentally facepalmed; there had to be dozens, or even hundreds, of capes with language-duplicate names around the world. Then he was speaking to us.

Who are you and what are you doing up here? I couldn't speak French, but the glasses provided their usual real-time translation.

I intended to say something bland about just dropping by and we'd be moving along soon, but my traitorous mouth betrayed me. "Oh, we're just relaxing and doing the tourist thing after taking down the Three Blasphemies. How's your day been?"

He paused, mouth half open as he absorbed my words. I didn't have the same ability to alter perceptions that Zach did, but the earpiece apparently made me a lot more persuasive.

Are you serious? One of them was seen earlier in Paris.

"Absolutely," I assured him after mentally facepalming again. It looked like we were going loud instead of quiet. "I'm Taylor; this is Zach. Check the news from America recently. Anyway, nice Tower you've got here. Great view. Amazing engineering." Shut up already, Taylor!

If true, that's astounding news. How did you get past the police cordon, and what happened with the top of the tower?

I rolled my eyes. "'If true', hah. You should find three craters where they were. As for how we got through the cordon, we didn't. We teleported here. And they kind of blew the tower up too, but Zach fixed it. Because he's cool like that. Anyway, bye!"

I was all out of stuff to say to Triomphe and I didn't want to start babbling or repeating myself, so I grabbed Zach's arm and teleported us out of there. One second, the Eiffel Tower at night; the next, the middle of our living room in Brockton Bay, with afternoon sunlight slanting through the windows.

"Okay, wow," I said, letting my breath out with a rush. "That was … a little stressful."

Zach put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a comforting squeeze. "Taylor, you stood firm at my side when we dealt with Ash Beast, Moord Nag, Sleeper and the Three Blasphemies. Why did you feel stressed when speaking with a friendly superhero?"

I took a deep breath, let it out, then did it again. "Because I suck at social situations. I feel comfortable with you because you've shown me over and over that you're not going to screw me over like other people have."

"Hmm." He nodded thoughtfully. "There is something I need to speak with you about, and I do not wish to cause you extra stress. Would you like to sit down?"

I looked at him suspiciously. "Is this going to be your 'It's time for me to leave' speech?"

"No, Taylor." His tone was serious. "When it becomes time for me to leave, you will be fully aware of it. I wish to speak to you about something more pressing."

Slowly, I sat down on the sofa. "Okay, what is it?"

He sat next to me and half-turned so that I could see his expression without straining myself. "You are aware of the secondary purpose of destroying each of the villains we have been engaging over the last few days, yes?"

I nodded; he hadn't actually been subtle about it. "So you can take their powers and use them for yourself."

"That is correct, Taylor." He beamed at me, apparently pleased at how well the talk was going. "Have you ever been told how super-powers work?"

"Only what I've seen in talk shows and Saturday morning cartoons, which probably has nothing to do with the reality of the situation," I admitted.

"You are correct," he confirmed. "The theorising in those shows is all very inaccurate, although I suspect Little Protectorate Pals would become a little less popular if they portrayed the science properly."

I tilted my head at him. "Since when did you ever watch Li'l Protectorate Pals?"

He was already good at pretending innocence, so I didn't believe his nonchalant expression for an instant. "My sister has watched every show. She played some episodes for me. I found the childlike reimagining of Father to be … endearing."

Because of course the Simurgh would become addicted to a show like that. "Okay, getting off-track. You were talking about how super-powers happen."

"Yes, I was." Zach took a breath; purely for effect, I knew, because he didn't have to breathe. "Each set of powers is granted by an extradimensional biological supercomputer. When a person has such a thing connected to them, their brain grows a structure called the corona pollentia in order to handle the input. Within the corona pollentia is a sub-structure called the gemma, which becomes active once the person gains access to their power. That is what actually controls the use of the power."

I blinked. "That's … that's a lot to take in, right there." A thought struck me. "Wait, are you saying I've got one of these corona pollination things in my head?" Because otherwise, why would he be bringing it up? "And do you even have one yourself? How do you handle all the powers you've been yoinking out of people's heads?"

"You have a corona pollentia, yes," he said soberly. "But your gemma is not active. Your father bore the connection for years, then it switched to you. In order to trigger the activation of the power, the person has to go through the most stressful situation imaginable."

"The locker," I said, an epiphany bursting upon me. "Did I … was I going to …"

"You would have triggered, yes," he said, as if that were the most normal thing in the world. "The power you would have gained is one that allows normally impossible levels of multi-tasking. I rescued you from the locker before you reached the state of mind necessary to trigger, and I removed the power from you while you were still insensate. I do not possess a corona pollentia, but the power inherent in me as an Endbringer allows me to commandeer and modify the powers of others. As yours was not fully integrated with your brain, I was able to bring it over to me in its entirety without further disturbing you."

"Oh." It was an odd feeling. At the time, I doubt I would have been capable of comprehending a request to take my as-yet unconnected power, much less emotionally stable enough to give a coherent answer. Yet Zach had simply … taken it. "Would … would it have been better for me to have triggered and then let you remove the power later, once I decided I didn't want it?"

"My sister says not," he informed me frankly. "The aftermath of the emotional trauma necessary for triggering is always profound. Worse, the process often alters the personality in unpredictable ways. And finally, by its very nature, it would have been forcing new and poorly understood sensory inputs on you at a time when you were least able to understand and assimilate them, thus inflicting more mental trauma upon you."

I grimaced. "Ouch." The trauma I'd been through had already been bad enough. Taking more than that sounded like no fun whatsoever. "I, uh, I hope it hasn't been giving you any problems like that?"

"Hardly." He smiled. "It has proven quite useful, actually. I have been using it to utilise each and every one of the powers I have removed from others to their full capacity, where normally I would have been limited to just one or two at a time."

"Right." I'd definitely seen that in action. "What if … what if I asked for it back? I mean, I had it first and all that."

"I have already integrated an aspect of it into your glasses," he said promptly. "That is how you are able to use all the Thinker powers built into them so readily." He tilted his head. "Did you want the entirety of it back? I can do that too, if you wish."

That was easy to answer. "No … I was just asking." I took a deep breath. The next question wasn't one I really wanted to ask, but I did anyway. "So … how long was I in the locker for, and how much longer would it have taken me to trigger?"

"You were in the locker for precisely forty-three seconds," Zach informed me. "Going by my observation of how strong-willed you are, I suspect it would have taken you thirty to forty-five minutes to reach the level of despair necessary to form the trigger connection with your power."

I nodded. "Right. So it wasn't something that almost happened. Where I was when you ripped the door off and got me out, that was just the start." I didn't want to think about the idea of being in there for another half-hour or more. "How badly did you hurt them all, again?"

His smile was back; open, happy, unconcerned. "If you are considering revenge, I can take you to the hospital wards where they are each undergoing treatment. Each of them suffered broken bones and minor internal injuries, though Sophia has it the worst. The aftermath of our exit from Winslow ensured that their actions would be impossible to conceal within the bureaucracy. Also, Director Piggot now has every reason to wish us well, so she is pushing hard for full transparency. Or, to put it another way, to keep us happy."

"I just bet." I recalled the sheer savage glee the Director had expressed when dealing with the cankerous sore that Ellisburg had become. Before that point, she would've been wary of us; afterward, somewhat more approving. Some bribes, it seemed, could not be paid in mere money or even material goods. "So, what did you want to do now?"

"I would suggest you have something to eat, so that your nutrition and blood sugar levels are at optimum," he said blandly. "I will also have something, because eating tasty food is enjoyable. After that, would you like to go and help improve the world a little more?"

"Food, then fixing the world. I like that." I jumped up off the sofa. "Have I got time for a shower?"

He spread his hands. "You have all the time you want, Taylor."

I liked the sound of that. "Back in ten."

<><>​

PRT Medical Facility

The doctor showed us the X-rays, tapping with his pen at certain spots. "With the fractures here, here and here, it's unlikely that she will ever walk again. If the damage is as bad as I suspect, she will be wearing a diaper for the rest of her life."

"I see," said Zach. "May we speak to the patient?"

I stood by, hands in the pockets of my jacket, just letting Zach do his thing. We were in the middle of the PRT building, in their secure medical facility, having literally teleported inside. Maybe we could've asked the Director for permission to enter, but Zach had decided to not bother her this time around. We could get in and out perfectly well on our own, after all.

"Certainly," said the doctor. He got that familiar what's-going-on look on his face, but his expression cleared again immediately. Zach's Stranger power was working just fine. "Right this way."

We were ushered into Sophia's private room, where I counted at least three cameras pointed directly at her. For her protection or to prevent escapes, I wasn't sure. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. She was lying in an oddly rigid pose, probably because of the body brace that was supposed to prevent her from damaging her spine any farther. As we came in, her face was turned away from the door.

"Hi, Soph," I said quietly.

For a moment, there was no reaction, then her head whipped around so fast I was concerned she'd do more damage to her spine. "What the fuck?" Her voice was husky, as if she'd screamed herself hoarse, or maybe just hadn't used it for a while. "What the fuck are you doing here? Who let you in?" One of her hands scrabbled for a call button as she stared wide-eyed at Zach.

I thought he'd stop her, but instead he let her press it. The buzz was audible even through the door; a moment later, an orderly opened it and leaned in. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"These two shouldn't be here!" Sophia shrieked. Boy, she'd gotten her voice back in a hurry. "They're here to kill me! Get help!"

The orderly's expression flickered and changed, then he looked at us. "Are you going to be long?"

"Not at all," Zach said politely. "Thank you very much."

"No problem." The orderly closed the door again.

Sophia stared at us, eyes so wide I could see white all around her irises. Her thumb remained pressed firmly on the call button. Nobody outside acknowledged it. "What … the … fuck …?"

I took a step forward. "I'm here to ask you a question, Sophia. It's got one of two answers. If you answer with anything else, I will assume you're okay with the first answer. Do you understand?"

She tried to scrabble back up the bed to get away from us but didn't get anywhere. "This is a fuckin' nightmare. It's gotta be."

I glanced at Zach; he shrugged. "She heard and understood what you said."

"Good." I took another step forward, so I was looming over her. "The question is simple. Would you rather have powers, or be able to walk?"

That got her attention. She stared at me. "What?"

I sighed slightly. "Would you rather have powers, or be able to walk? It's not a hard question, Sophia. Which would you rather have? Powers, or mobility?"

Her stare turned into a glare. "So you're here to fuckin' taunt me. Fuck you."

"Not at all." I shook my head. "I'm here to offer you a choice. You've got ten seconds to decide, or I decide for you." Theatrically, I pushed back my glove to check my watch. "Starting … now."

She continued to glare, lips pressed tightly together. No doubt determined to not give me the pleasure of 'winning'. Whatever that meant for her at this time.

The ten seconds came and went, and I motioned my head toward Zach. "Okay, time's up. She prefers to have powers."

We turned in unison and headed for the door. I had my hand on the handle when Sophia shouted, "Wait!"

Pausing, my hand still on the door, I turned. "Yeah?"

Sophia gritted her teeth. Her glare had intensified. "I …"

I waited, a polite expression on my face as I made a go-on gesture. "You …?"

The expression on her face was reminiscent of someone being forced to drink concentrated lemon juice. "Walk! I want to walk!"

Leaving the door unopened, I strolled back to the bed. "You're sure about this. You'd rather be able to walk than have powers."

If her powerset had included any kind of Blaster ability, I would've been dead on the spot. She looked like she was trying to ignite my face with the sheer intensity of her hatred. Just for emphasis, my glasses overlaid cartoon images of steam shooting from her ears.

"… yes."

"Good." I gestured to Zach. "Powers now, walkies after. Zach?"

"As you wish, Taylor." Reaching out, Zach lightly pinched the back of Sophia's hand, just beside where a cannula went in. It was always fascinating to watch him do this, as he pulled a shadowy gauze-like thing out of her, yard after yard of it, bundling it up as he went.

When he was done, he turned to me. "Her power has been removed." With a flick of his wrist, he made the wadded-up expression of Sophia's power vanish. "It is over to you now."

"I'm going to hold your hand now," I told Sophia. "Don't get any ideas." Reaching out, I gripped her fingers.

"What are you going to do?" she sneered. "Aren't you going to bring Panacea or someone in? And what the fuck did he just do now, anyway?"

"Weren't you paying attention?" I raised my eyebrows. "He took your powers away. You're normal now, just like everyone you ever beat up. And anyway, Panacea isn't Panacea anymore. She doesn't have her powers. I've got them."

As I spoke, I looked over her injuries. The doctor had been correct; the damage to her spinal cord would've caused paralysis from the waist down. I fixed the fractures and the internal damage with relative ease, then made one more change before I let her hand go again. "You're good to go. Try to wriggle your toes."

Sophia stared past me at the end of the bed, and I saw the coverlet twitch slightly. "Holy shit, you did it. My legs work … wait. That was my right foot. I tried to wriggle my left foot."

I nodded, a grin creeping across my face. "Yeah, about that. I switched your proprioception for left and right. Your brain will figure it out in time, but you are gonna have to learn how to walk all over again. Enjoy." Because damn right I was gonna have hard feelings.

"You can't do that!" she screamed, rising onto her elbows. "Come back here and—"

"Bye." I considered giving her a finger-wave, then settled for the finger itself. Taking Zach's arm, I teleported us out of the PRT building.

<><>​

Top of Captain's Hill

"Well, that was fun," I observed, swinging my legs idly back and forth while I sat on a picnic table and watched the sun set over the western hills. "I mean, it didn't do much to fix the world as a whole, but it was intensely satisfying all the same."

"Every little bit helps," he said, apparently enjoying the sunset just as much as I was. "Would you like to go and help fix another little bit of it now, before we move back to the big leagues?"

"What, Emma and Madison?" I asked. "I thought you said they just had broken bones and minor internal injuries."

"Emma and Madison will heal quite well on their own," he assured me. "This is in New York."

I slid off the picnic table. "I'm down for New York. Let's do this."

<><>​

New York
March

May grinned behind her rabbit mask. Her ad hoc team of minor villains, barely worthy of being called a gang when left to their own devices, was proving its worth under her direction. They'd intercepted Flechette's evening patrol and were even now separating her farther and farther from her teammates.

The timer in her head ticked over and she raised her radio. "Lurker, hit her with a shadow ball to the left hand … now." This would throw Lily off-balance again—not an easy thing to do—and keep her heading away from the other two Wards.

In the meantime, May's decoy Flechette, a girl of about the right height and looks, wearing a very similar costume, was drawing the other Wards in entirely the wrong direction. She'd planned it all out, down to the second. She and Lily were going to have it out once and for all, once the beleaguered Ward stumbled into the alley directly below where she was—

"Hi, there."

It was a girl's voice, coming from directly behind her. She'd checked the rooftop ten seconds ago! Nobody should be there! Her plans did not allow for someone to be there!

The rapier flickering from its sheath, she turned with all the speed and precision she was capable of. Even as she registered there were not one but two intruders on the rooftop, she energised the slim metal length of the blade and lunged at the more dangerous-looking of the pair—

And stopped so hard she wrenched something in her wrist.

The tip of the blade was mere inches from the chest of the teenage boy, but she couldn't move it. It was as though the hilt were encased in concrete. Beside the boy, the teenage girl—skinny, curly black hair, stylish glasses, absolutely rockin' jacket—raised her eyebrows.

"Unfriendly," she observed.

"It is her nature," the boy said, his diction precise and measured down to the microsecond. He didn't breathe except to speak, May noted. Reaching up, he pinched the end of the rapier. May grinned, expecting him to yelp as the energised metal cut his fingers to the bone.

That didn't happen. Instead, he began to draw some kind of filament from the tip of the blade. Stepping back, he flicked the filament this way and that as if performing some kind of over-the-top cat's cradle.

May tried to release the rapier, but that didn't happen either. She could feel her fingers, but they would not move from the hilt of the weapon. Looking down at it, she saw at last that the hilt and glove were both a dull monochrome gray in colour, instead of gleaming metal and white cloth.

Left hand it is, then. Dropping the radio—right now, there were more stringent issues at stake—she slid a knife from its sheath and energised it, preparatory to throwing at the gir—no, at the boy. Even though her intellect insisted the girl was the better target, so as to distract the boy from what he was doing, she knew the boy was far more dangerous.

The girl sighed and flicked her fingers. A tiny gray sphere flashed out toward the knife. Even as May tried to jerk her hand aside, the sphere swerved and hit its target anyway. Encompassing her hand and the hilt of the knife, it locked them solid. She suspected if she fell over now, she would have two broken wrists, instead of just one slightly sprained one.

"What's with the rabbit mask anyway?" asked the girl. "I mean, I get it that capes can get some pretty weird costume ideas, but are you supposed to be the Easter Bunny's evil twin or something?"

What? She doesn't even know who I am? "I'm March," snapped May, trying to move her hands with no success. Just a few feet closer, though, and she might be able to launch a kick and stun the little cow …

She glanced at the girl's companion, who seemed to be using the filament to weave … a pair of heavy wristbands? The last of it popped from the tip of the rapier … which was no longer energised. In fact, all of May's timing was … gone. All the balance, all the plans, all the understanding. Gone, as though it had never been.

"March?" The girl frowned. "What's that got to do with rabbits? I thought Easter was in April."

"Not Easter, you stupid little … hngh!" May tried again to get free and failed. "As in March Hare! And as in marching in step! Don't you understand word association at all? What've you done to me, anyway? Is that a Trump effect?"

The girl shrugged, apparently unconcerned at her anger. "Nope. Zach just took your powers. You're not actually getting them back." She looked around as someone climbed the fire escape. "Oh, hey."

<><>​

Flechette

March had to be behind this. Nobody else could organise a bunch of nobodies this well. Lily ducked away from one attack, tried to load her arbalest, and nearly had it knocked out of her hands by another. Fully aware she was being herded, she sprinted across the narrow street and dived into the alleyway on the other side. One of Lurker's darkness balls hit the brickwork next to her left arm, hurrying her on her way.

If her radio was still working, she would've been able to call for help, but that was the first thing they'd targeted. Her phone was still intact, but there was no chance of her getting the time to pull it out and make a call back to base, the way they were pressing her. It was like they knew every one of her moves before she made them … because, in a way, they did.

This was one of May's talents, to direct an assault like this with precise timing. She knew Lily's every move, and she was able to translate that into instructions to the third-raters she'd hired for this job. Without her whispering in their ears, Lily would've been able to take them apart in seconds. As it was, this was like trying to match up, unpowered, against specialist troops.

And then … Lurker missed his shot. Like, wide. Lily had all the time in the world to duck aside and pull a blade, which she hurled along the alley. Scattershot yelped as it pinned his arm to the bricks by the sleeve, and Lily grinned. Something had changed, and she was going to make full use of it.

Lurker ventured along the alleyway, peering around for her, another shadow-ball forming in his hands. Lily came down on him from above like the vengeance from a particularly pissed-off goddess, smacking him just above the ear with the butt of her arbalest with precisely measured force. He folded like a cheap suit, face-planting into the dirt and grime.

Checking up and around, just to make sure March wasn't pulling one of her trademark ambushes, Lily headed back down the alley to secure Scattershot. It didn't take long to have him secured hand and foot, and then she pulled out her phone. "Yeah, hi, Flechette. No, I've been heading west. Yeah, west. March has had her guys herding me, but I got the better of them." She tilted her head as she heard a familiar voice drifting down from a rooftop. "Home in on my signal. I think I got her."

Leaving the call on, she dropped the phone into its pouch and headed through the alley toward where she'd heard the shout. More angry words filtered down toward her. It didn't sound like March was having a good time of it. She leaped up, grabbed the fire escape ladder, and started to climb.

As she came up over the top, a curious sight caught her eye. March was there, alright, with her rapier in one hand and a knife in the other. She was in full battle mode, yet the people she was aggressing on were just … casually standing there. One was a teenage boy who looked kind of familiar, while the other was a girl who Lily also thought she should know from somewhere but couldn't quite place her. The girl had on a damn nice jacket, too.

The girl turned toward her. "Oh, hey."

As the boy finished fitting a couple of leather wrist-bands on his arms, he also turned to face her. "Hello, Flechette," he said happily. "I am Zachary, and this is Taylor. We are pleased to be of service to you tonight. Are you healthy?"

"Bruised, cut, but doing a lot better than I was." Lily strolled over, loading her arbalest and cranking back the string as she did so. As soon as it was ready to shoot, she aimed it at March. "This one's been giving me a heap of problems tonight, though." She didn't intend to shoot, but March was dangerous even when she wasn't armed.

"I had you," spat March. "I had you!" She appeared particularly bitter over something. "If—" She cut herself off.

"Wait, I know this one," the girl—Taylor—said, putting one finger up. "Is this the one that goes, if it wasn't for these meddling kids, I would've gotten away with impersonating the Easter Bunny and stealing all the eggs?"

Despite herself, Lily was impressed at the furious outburst that followed. She'd known March had a fairly broad command of profanity, but dang.

<><>​

Observation Deck of the Empire State Building

The safety mesh reminded me of the top of the Eiffel Tower, though the hooked-over bars on top were different. I had my camera out, taking photos of the city lights, while Zach appeared content to just look out over Manhattan Island. "This is nice, too. But did you help out Flechette just to be nice, or was there another reason?"

"Very good, Taylor," he said approvingly. "March had a powerset that I need for my future plans. Besides, doing good for the sake of doing good makes you happy, as does foiling the plans of supervillains. Especially over-pretentious supervillains like that one."

I had to admit, he knew me well. I lined up on the Chrysler Building, took the shot, then turned to him. "Okay, I've done my touristy thing. Where to next?"

He looked thoughtful. "I believe it may be time for us to visit the Birdcage once more. Lung and Hookwolf will have had time to settle in and consider their options, after all."

I nodded. "I got this one." Putting my camera away, I tucked my arm through Zach's. "In the words of Time Warp, it's just a jump to the left …"

We 'jumped to the left' across the width of North America, reappearing in the courtyard of the new and improved Birdcage. A single Dragon suit stood watchfully in the corner of the yard, apparently in consultation with a few of the inmates. Overhead, the sky was showing the orange of sunset. It occurred to me that I was spending a lot of time jumping between time zones today.

Our sudden appearance did not go unnoticed. Several inmates waved, while others looked impassively in our direction. Oh, well. It's not like we can expect everyone to be grateful. Acidbath (or rather, the former Acidbath) just glowered. He had a few bruises on his face; it appeared he was unable to control his mouth around his fellow inmates, even after losing his powers. Remembering what he was like, I could not find much sympathy in my heart for him.

The double doors marked DOWN TO BIRDCAGE were what we wanted. I strolled in that direction, with Zach at my side. As I came up to the doors, I looked over at the Dragon suit and nodded once; the suit returned the nod. I pulled the doors open and entered the staircase.

Carved from the surrounding rock, the stairs were broad and easy to traverse, curving slightly to the right as they proceeded downward. Subdued overhead lighting made it easy to ensure I didn't trip, if my glasses hadn't already been outlining the steps already for me. Halfway down, I encountered Cinderhands on the way up, holding two bottles of an expensive imported beer.

"Evening," I said, and nodded at the beer. "Is that for Marquis?"

"Yes, ma'am," he confirmed, then looked at Zach. "My appeal's going well, so thank you for that too."

"You are welcome." He nodded at the ex-supervillain, then we continued downstairs.

When we entered the common area at the bottom of the stairs, it resembled nothing so much as an old-fashioned gentlemen's club, one catering to classic noir gangsters. Not that anyone was dressed in period attire, but the attitude was there. A veneer of politeness over the ability to render extreme violence if necessary.

My glasses scanned the room, then picked out the people Zach was here to see. Lung was sitting back in the corner, watching the large-screen TV, while Hookwolf was in the middle of a game of pool. Neither of them took notice of our arrival at first, but then a murmuring spread through the room until everyone had ceased their activities and were looking at us. I didn't pick out any hostility, at least as bad as Acidbath's upstairs, but a few seemed apprehensive, as if they were worried we were going to inflict some unknown punishment on them … or worse, take the largesse away again.

"Good evening, everyone," Zach announced. Of course, everyone heard him. "Do not worry. Nobody is in trouble. However, we are here to make two announcements. First, I will be speaking to Dragon about ceasing intake into this facility. No more villains will be sent to the Birdcage. Second, I am here so that we may complete the processing of those who wish to either forfeit their powers or take on a behavioural control collar. For those who are unaware of the situation, one or the other has to happen before you will be permitted to venture upstairs and begin the process of filing your appeal."

"Appeal?" Unsurprisingly, it was Hookwolf who spoke up. "So these assholes haven't been pulling my leg? I can actually appeal to get out of this damn place?"

"Eventually, yes," Zach said. "Not immediately, of course. Appeals take years to process even in ordinary prisons, and you have been sent away for particularly heinous acts, after all. But once you get upstairs, the process can be started. Or …" He gestured at the surrounding area. "You can choose to stay down here with anyone who has decided they like it better this way."

"Nah, screw that." Hookwolf shook his head. "What do I gotta do?"

I cleared my throat. "First, you need to move to the back of the line. There are people who have been here far longer than you, that I did not manage to deal on our last visit. They have priority."

The burly Empire Eighty-Eight cape looked from Zach to me and back again, apparently wondering who was in charge but just smart enough not to ask the question out loud.

"Please do as Taylor has requested," Zach said firmly. "She is the one who determines who I see first."

That caused a stir as people started forming up into a line. A few other newcomers to the Birdcage tried to slip in early, but my glasses picked them out and I sent them to the back as well. If anybody tried to argue, they were glared into silence by the rest. It appeared they were learning.

I quickly slipped into the routine of asking them what they intended to do once they got out, then whether they wanted their powers gone or if they merely wanted a behavioural control collar. As the line progressed through, the ones farther back heard what I was saying and were able to think about their responses, so when they got to me they were able to provide a quick response. Whichever one they wanted, I sent them on to Zach.

In barely any time at all (or so it seemed), we were down to the last few. Hookwolf was the second-last in front of Lung, but it looked like the time he'd spent in line hadn't actually helped him with the decision. "Which one do you think I should do?" he asked me point-blank.

"That's not my choice," I said. "Either way, you won't be able to go back to the Empire Eighty-Eight." He was too proud to settle for going from being one of the movers and shakers to just being an unpowered mook. Even I could see that.

He shook his head, making a derisive noise. "Nah, screw those losers. Never really believed in that master-race bullshit, anyway. If I kept my powers, you think they'd let me go hero?"

I shrugged. "You'd have to move to somewhere away from Brockton Bay and get rid of the wolf theme. And those tattoos. And the attitude. But yeah, if you managed to pull that off, I don't see why not." If Sophia managed to masquerade as a hero for more than a year, I was sure he could too.

"Yeah, okay. Why not?" He moved over to Zach, and I was face to face with Lung.

"Good evening," I said smoothly. I knew I was in zero danger, even from someone as powerful as him. Even if he ramped up then and there and tried to murder me on the spot, I had every faith in Zach being able to slap him down so hard there would be an imprint in the rock beneath our feet. "So, what do you intend to do once you get out of here?"

"I … do not know," he said at last. "I have been Lung for so long, I don't know who else to be. Who are you when you take off that jacket?"

"This?" I looked down at the jacket. "Still me, only not wearing the jacket. I don't really need a hero persona to live up to, I guess."

At that moment, a message flashed up on my glasses. I will be needing his powers. This was the first time Zach had actually stated a preference, which surprised me slightly.

"Will I still be Lung if I have my powers removed?" The thoughtful question also surprised me. Everyone saw him as the brutish crime lord, but that actually showed introspection.

"Well, you won't be allowed to be Lung of the ABB once you're no longer able to commit crimes," I pointed out. "Also, by the time you get out of here, the ABB is almost certainly going to be long gone. Without you or Oni Lee to run the show, they're likely to drift out of the gang and vanish into the woodwork." I let the earpiece add a little bit of its influence. "If you want my suggestion, give up your powers and just be an ordinary citizen. Don't be the man who was once Lung. Be …" I checked with my glasses. "… Kenta Fujiwara, pillar of the community. Teach the young people how not to fall into the same traps you did at their age." That he'd fallen into traps, I was sure. Every teenager did.

He snorted, probably remembering those same traps. "You talk a good game. Don't you think I should try to be a hero, like Hookwolf?"

"Well, you could try," I conceded. "I don't know how successful you would be. Heroes who catch fire when they get more powerful tend to end up dealing with property damage lawsuits. He's only got to worry about sharp metal bits."

"Hmm." He looked thoughtful at that.

I wanted to keep talking but knew if I did, I'd probably put my foot in it. Instead, I tried to look helpful and interested. Even the earpiece could only make me so persuasive.

Drawing a deep breath, he let out a long sigh. "I'll do it."

"Do what?" I asked, though I thought I knew which one he meant.

"A dragon will relinquish its powers before it allows itself to be collared." It sounded vaguely like a quote out of a book, but I was pretty sure he'd made it up on the spot. Kudos to him; it actually sounded kind of badass.

"Cool," I said. "Zach?"

"Thank you, Mr Fujiwara," Zach said, stepping up alongside me. He shook Lung's hand, then from that contact pulled an honest-to-goodness dragon out of the man. It was long and snake-like, in the style of the Oriental dragons I'd read about. Twisting and coiling in Zach's hands, it breathed imaginary fire at the ceiling.

Lung watched as the illusory dragon wound itself around Zach's arm all the way up over his shoulders, then down his other arm. I could not swear there were no tears in his eyes. Instead of bundling the power up as he had the others, Zach let it sink into his body through his light coat, until it was no longer in view. I wondered what ornament or clothing item Zach would make out of it, once we were gone from the Birdcage.

"And that is all?" asked Zach. "All cell blocks have been checked to ensure nobody has been left out?"

The Dragon suit standing by the stairway door, quiet until now, nodded. "All cell blocks contain only persons already processed by you," she said.

"Good," Zach said. "Have a good evening, all. I wish you luck with your appeals."

That actually raised a cheer, muted only slightly by the doors closing behind us as we headed upstairs to the courtyard once more. By the time we got up there, full night had fallen. I stood for a moment, looking up at the stairs.

"Why did you need Lung's powers?" I asked. "Everyone else, you've given them the choice. Why Lung?"

"For the same reason I needed Ash Beast, Sleeper and Moord Nag's powers," he replied candidly. "His power is particularly potent. I will be having need of that."

I turned to face him. "Zach … as powerful as you are … when you talk about needing more power, you worry me. What the hell do you need so much power for?"

He sighed and put his arm around me. "I will tell you, when the time comes. For now, we should return to Brockton Bay. My sister says your father has almost finished making the evening meal, and we both know how he gets if he is kept waiting."

I snorted and leaned into him. "Literally an Endbringer. Casually arm-wrestles Alexandria packages. Leaps across the continent in a single bound. Scared of my father."

"Well, of course," Zach said as he scooped me up in his arms. "Your father is a scary man."

I was still laughing when he braked to a halt outside the house.



End of Part Twenty-Three

 

I'm HALPING!

Part Twenty-Four: Dancing With Endbringers

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


A No-Tell Motel on the Outskirts of Brockton Bay
Coil

Rifle case slung over his shoulder, Calvert strolled out of the motel admin area. Beside him shuffled Creep, still in his body bag. The latest phone message had said to be checked out at this time but hadn't given any further details.

"Hello, Mr. Calvert."

The voice was so unexpected that he didn't register the words for a second. When he did, he turned to see both Taylor Hebert and Zachary casually standing there. Looking at him. Seeing him.

Not for even a fraction of a second did he entertain the concept that the monster-killing firearm in the case would have the slightest chance of harming Zachary. Neither could he run away; they'd both been waiting for him, so this meeting was going to happen. Which left only acceptance of his fate, whatever that might be.

Zachary had been the one to speak, but Calvert didn't make the mistake of ignoring the girl. "Hello," he said, addressing both of them. "It's been a little while."

"It has," Taylor agreed. "Zachary tells me you've been busy. Thank you for your help with Sleeper, by the way."

He nodded to acknowledge her words. "He needed putting down. You were the ones who held him in place long enough to make that happen." Taking a deep breath, he turned to Zachary. "So, what happens now? Do I die?"

"You have committed many crimes, because you assumed nobody who was powerful enough to stop you cared enough to try." Zachary's tone was measured, lacking in any censure. "Better people than you have done worse things for the same reason. I am here to relieve you of your duties and your powers. Your life will be your own to do with as you will."

He wasn't prepared for the surge of disappointment when he heard the first part of Zachary's intentions. The second came almost as an anticlimax; still a wrench, but not unbearable. "You … you don't need me anymore?" His powers had led him into this situation; keeping them was not as high a priority as it may once have been.

Zachary smiled kindly at him. "You have been very useful. My sister has spoken highly of you as an effective tool with which to implement her ends. But where Taylor and I need to go, what we need to do, is above what you would call your 'pay grade'. Do you understand?"

Once upon a time, he would've been insulted by the implication that a teenage girl and a … whatever Zachary was, could handle any situation better than he could, with all his training and powers combined. He'd learned since then. He'd learned a lot.

"Your sister? The Simurgh?" He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. "She's the one who's been pulling my strings?"

"That's right," croaked Creep from beside him. "It was the most convenient way. Plus, it was amusing from time to time."

Calvert grimaced. "Yeah, I suppose I asked for that one. So, what happens to him?" He indicated the corpse. "Is he going to be found dead right here? He's done a lot to help me, and I'd rather he didn't just vanish."

"He was an evil person in life, but that does not matter now," Zachary said. "He will be found washed up on shore. His identity will never be solved. He will receive a proper burial, from people who have no idea who he used to be."

"I suppose that's good enough." Calvert turned to look at Creep. "It's been interesting. See you around."

"Right back at you." Creep shuffled off, still holding up the body-bag like he was competing in the world's most macabre sack race. Calvert watched him get into a taxi; the vehicle drove off without the driver showing the slightest indication that he knew his passenger was a cadaver.

"Okay, I'm ready." Calvert leaned the rifle case against a convenient pillar. "I'm guessing I won't be needing that, either."

"You are correct." Zachary reached out as though to shake hands.

Calvert briefly considered trying to make a run for it, then laughed at himself. How far would I get? Wherever I tried to go, he would be there first. Steeling himself, he clasped the Endbringer's hand.

It was an odd feeling, like having the inside of his skull scraped out. Since gaining his powers, he'd depended on them almost every day of his life. They were how he'd made his money, and how he'd built his criminal enterprise. And now, with minimal fanfare, they were being taken from him.

He blinked, and it was done. Zachary was turning something over and over in his hands, until he finally revealed it to be an ornate wristwatch. Carefully, the teen strapped it onto his wrist.

"And that's it?" asked Calvert. "That's all?"

"That's all," Taylor said bluntly. "Don't go doing anything that would get our attention, and you'll be okay."

"Understood." Calvert turned and walked away from them. The rifle case was no longer leaning where he'd left it, but that was fine. It hadn't been stolen, because no thief in existence could get past that terrifyingly powerful young man. If he had to guess, it was back with its original owner.

As the saying went, this was the first day of the rest of his life. It wasn't going to be a very exciting life, but he'd had enough excitement for two lifetimes and change.

Right now, he decided, he wanted a drink. Or maybe two drinks. Creep would need a wake, after all.

<><>​

Taylor

I watched Calvert walk away, heading for the taxi stand, and took Zachary's arm. "So, what's going to happen to him? Any more plans in his direction?"

"I have no plans whatsoever for him," Zachary replied. "He has served his purpose. He will have access to his PRT bank account, but not the money accumulated from his criminal endeavours. What he makes of his life is up to him."

"Okay." I put the ex-villain from my mind to admire Zach's new watch. "Very pretty. Where are we going next?"

"Thank you. I believe our next destination is to be Philadelphia, and several related locations. You are going to enjoy this, Taylor. We are going to help people."

"Oh, good." Even though Calvert had been a villain, retiring him and taking his powers had been a tiny bit depressing. "I'm definitely down for that. Are we running, jumping or teleporting?"

He smiled at me. "You like it when we jump, so we shall jump."

"Woo hoo!"

<><>​

Parahuman Asylum East, Philadelphia
Doctor Jeremy Clarkson

Jeremy lowered his glasses and peered at his visitors over the top of them. "Excuse me? You're here to do what again?"

"We are here to cure your patients of the parahuman abilities that ail them," the young man replied earnestly. "I believe this will make treatment of their purely mental problems considerably easier."

"Well, it would," admitted Jeremy. "But how do you intend to do that? Even the most powerful Trumps can only turn off powers for a short time, and they usually require specific circumstances. The only cape I know of who can simply take powers away from someone is …" His voice trailed off, not wanting to say the name.

"Glaistig Uaine? The Faerie Queen?" The girl shrugged. "She's not a danger anymore. Zach and I saw to that."

"Oh." Jeremy didn't know why he believed this, but he did. "I … see. So, what do you need to do? Some of the inmates are dangerous if we're not wearing special equipment."

"They will not be." The boy—Zach—spoke with authority. "Walk with us, please."

And so, Jeremy found himself accompanying the boy and the girl through the asylum. No matter that it was outside visiting hours, or that neither of them had the slightest vestige of authority to be there; they were walking through, and that was all there was to it.

At each door, Zach would stop and tilt his head as though listening. Occasionally, it seemed as though a wispy something was floating about him, but Jeremy dismissed it as a trick of the light. He wanted it to be a trick of the light, as the alternative was much scarier.

There were no known Trumps outside the Birdcage capable of removing powers, because any such cape would find a target painted on their back. And this boy was right here, and Jeremy was in the same building as him. He just wanted them to finish their business and be gone, so he'd be outside the splash radius when the inevitable lynch mob of capes caught up with them.

Finally, they passed by the last cell. The teenagers turned to look at Jeremy, and the boy nodded. "Thank you for your time," he said. "And do not worry. You are safe. There is no lynch mob chasing me."

Wait, what the hell? Jeremy opened his mouth to ask how the kid knew the exact damn phrase he'd been thinking, then closed it again. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Don't wanna know.

The girl grinned. "That's probably wise. Bye, now." She took her male companion's arm in hers, offered Jeremy a tiny fingertip wave … and they both vanished, as though they'd never existed.

Grumbling about smartass Thinkers and Movers, he wandered back through the asylum, intending to head back to the office and pour himself a stiff drink from the bottle he kept hidden in the bookcase. But then he heard a voice as he was passing one particular cell. "Hello? Is anyone out there?"

His sense of duty took over, and he went to the intercom in question. "Hello, Sveta? It's Doctor Clarkson. Are you alright?" The question was more or less a gimme; Garrotte's body had proven itself to be insanely durable. But sometimes she needed reassurance.

"I … I think so?" There was a nervous giggle. "But … can someone bring me clothes? I'm kind of chilly in here."

He blinked. Clothes? Since when does a mass of tentacles wear clothing?

When he found out the answer to that question, he really needed a drink.

<><>​

Taylor

Zach and I sat atop Washington's head and looked down at the Mount Rushmore viewing area while we ate our midnight picnic lunch. I had a slice of lasagna saved over from dinner, along with an apple and a large juice box. Despite both of us being fully aware that Zach had no need to eat, he was consuming a two-foot sub sandwich comprised of lettuce, ham, turkey and several sauces, with every evidence of enjoyment.

"So, that's the asylums cleared out," I observed, then let out a thoroughly unladylike belch. "You were right. That was really nice of you. I wonder how many of those people were there just because of problematic powers."

Zach politely took the time to chew and swallow his most recent bite before answering. "Most of them were incarcerated because their powers were dangerous or uncontrollable," he confirmed. "There were a few who had other problems over and above those, but as I told Doctor Clarkson, those will be much easier to treat now. Especially since their powers were sabotaging their recoveries."

"Huh. That's good to hear." I smiled at him, then finished off my juice box. "Where are we going next?"

Unusually for him, he paused to think about his response. "I am not certain that where I need to go is a good place for you. It is likely to be more dangerous, relatively speaking."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? More dangerous than taking down Moord Nag, or facing Sleeper? How about when we goaded the Three Blasphemies into blowing up each other, and the top of the Eiffel Tower at the same time? Do you really want to pull the 'it's too dangerous' card on me now? And anyway, whatever happened to not letting me out of your sight in case someone got to me?"

It was perhaps the first time I'd seen Zach really taken aback. Any pauses up to this point had been mainly theatrical in nature; with the speed he could move and react, he had to take the time to masquerade as human in order to seem 'normal.' But now he stopped and just looked at me, as though I'd presented him with an insoluble problem.

"I am sorry, Taylor," he said at last. "I have done you a grave disservice. I allowed my concern for your well-being to override my understanding that you are quite capable of protecting yourself with the powers I have gifted to you."

I waited, but it seemed he'd finished what he was saying for the moment. So I nodded. "I can understand that impulse, and I appreciate it. You've done nothing but protect me since we met, and I appreciate that, too." Lifting my hand, I placed it on his cheek. "In that time, you've done more for me, more for my mental and physical well-being, anyone else in the world. I trust you to have my best interests at heart, Zach. Can you trust me not to be stupid, in return?"

"I can trust you, Taylor," he said immediately. "I do trust you. As I said, I am sorry for underestimating you, and I will not do it again."

"Good." I pulled up my knees and wrapped my arms around them, then rested my chin on top and looked over them at him. "So, spill. Where are you going that's so dangerous?"

"My next destination is China," he said immediately. "The CUI has a large collection of military-trained parahumans, some of whom have very useful powers. My intent is to goad them into attacking me so that I may collect their powers, both defanging the regional threat and adding to my collection at the same time."

"Bold plan," I acknowledged. "Just one question: do you know for a fact you can face them all off, or are you going to assume you can just because you've beat up on a few hometown capes?"

He looked uncomfortable. "My oldest brother attacked Jinzhou back before you were born, and the CUI refused outside aid. The Yàngbǎn faced him on their own, and were thoroughly demolished. The city was devastated, even worse than normally happened when he attacked. He says he felt a little bad about it afterward."

"And because of that, you're assuming you can solo them all now?" I rolled my eyes. "Zach, it's been more than fifteen years since then! They've had that time to replenish their numbers and ramp up their training. Also, you told me yourself the big guy is stronger than you, and a lot tougher. And he does a lot more ranged and area effect damage than you do."

"That is all true, Taylor, but I also do not wish to expose you to that level of danger." He looked unhappy, which was also a rare expression for him.

"And I don't want you facing that level of danger alone!" I shouted back. Taking a deep breath, I moderated my tone. "You're gathering all these powers for a really good reason, right?"

"Yes, Taylor, I am," he admitted. "It is all for the ultimate reason of keeping you safe and happy."

"Well, sometimes you're just going to have to compromise," I said. "If you're taken down and beaten while you're over there and you lose all the extra powers, is it going to help keep me safe and happy?"

"My brothers and sister would come to my aid …" he said uncertainly.

"Yeah, and sure, they might even rescue you," I said. "But it'll cause a ton of bad publicity. Do you want word getting out that all three known Endbringers attacked China to save you, personally? Because the people running China right now, the Emperor and the rest of them? They'd spread it far and wide that you're associated with the Endbringers. But two teenagers beating up their national cape team? They'd bury that hard, because everyone would laugh at them forever."

He looked thoughtful. "I am not sure. It still sounds very dangerous to me."

"Ask your sister." I spread my hands. "If anyone knows, she would." I tried hard not to think about how weird it was to be urging my best friend to seek advice from the Simurgh. Or that he was the Simurgh's younger brother.

"That is a good idea. I will ask her." He paused for a moment, then frowned. "She agrees with you. I do not understand."

I shrugged. "She knows me. Probably better than I know myself, to be honest. I just don't want you biting off more than you can chew. But she knows I'll go the extra mile to make sure you get out in one piece."

"That is true." He stood up, then gave me a hand to get to my feet as well. "I am used to not needing assistance in what I am doing. My sister tells me that if I do not accept your offer, I will be an idiot and deserve everything I get."

"Well, when she's right, she's right." I slugged him gently on the shoulder, then zipped my jacket all the way to the top. "So, what's the plan?"

"I had not considered the need for a plan …" He paused when I raised my eyebrows meaningfully. "… but if you wish, I can formulate one now, with my sister's help."

"I do wish, yes." I started gathering up the picnic debris. No sense in littering the top of Washington's head, after all. "Let me know what it is when you finish putting it together."

"Yes, Taylor."

<><>​

Beijing
Yàngbǎn Training Centre
Half an Hour Later

We teleported into the middle of a large flat paved area, between two groups of people. Each group, arrayed in a rectangular fashion, were dressed in flowing clothing with red accents on black. Across the other side of the training ground (for there was little else it could be) there was a large target board that showed signs of charring, searing and explosive damage. Someone shouted a phrase. I didn't understand it, but my glasses provided a helpful subtitle: The Twenty-Third Path. Everyone to our right moved at the same time, shifting from one pose to another. Hands were pointed forward with palms outward, and fire erupted from every hand. I watched as each blast converged on the board, adding significantly to the charring already there.

A moment later, someone on the left shouted a different phrase—The Eighteenth Path—and blue-white lasers ravaged the target board on that side. I was not at all sure how they were doing this; shooting fire from the hands wasn't exactly a common cape power, but lasers had to be even less so. Where were they getting all these capes with the same powers from, and what did the numbers have to do with it?

Someone else shouted something, and I had a bad feeling even before my glasses provided the translation: Intruders! Capture them! Both groups turned to face us, people within them calling out different numbered paths.

This was where I came in. I hurled the Idiot Ball into one of the groups, mentally commanding it to ricochet between all of them. At the same time, Butcher's danger sense flared and I grabbed Zach, jumping us ten feet to the right. Where we'd been standing, a series of force fields formed a globe, then an area of dead-black space formed within that. Zach reached out, grabbing strand after strand of power and pulling them to himself.

More commands were shouted, and I realised what was happening. Each cape in the formation had a number, and their powers were being shared among everyone. If someone shouted a numbered path, everyone used the powers belonging to the cape that number corresponded to. It was kind of a terrifying epiphany. Instead of facing twenty-plus capes, each with a different power, we were facing twenty-plus capes, each with all the powers of their comrades.

But they relied on spoken commands.

A flicker of thought tuned my earpiece to white noise, and I turned it to full volume. The hissing, crackling static boomed out over the training ground, echoing from the nearby walls; even if it didn't deafen everyone, it certainly made them unable to hear the commands. "Eleventy-fifth path!" I shouted, just to add more confusion. "Negative one path! Four hundred ninety-fifth path! Pi R squared path!"

Between the lack of central authority, the Idiot Ball bouncing back and forth almost too fast for the eye to see, and Zach's ongoing harvesting of powers, all cohesiveness was gone. I jumped Zach and myself around a few more times to avoid individual attacks, but they'd trained so hard to react as a single unit that it was difficult to for them to act individually. By the time the dust settled and the smoke cleared, they were all backing away from us. The few who kept trying to use powers found they were gone—either from the Idiot Ball or Zach's harvesting efforts—which didn't help morale in the slightest.

"Are we done yet?" I called out, confident Zach would hear me and understand.

"I will need a little more time." He actually sounded strained, which was impressive considering his previous feats where it came to collecting powers. "One of their parahumans is attempting to pull back his power. If we teleport away, I will lose my grip on it."

The Idiot Ball came back to my palm with a resounding smack. "Which direction?"

His only answer was a strained grunt as he hauled on a strand that stretched away into nothingness, but he pointed along the strand. Well, duh. Of course they'd be in that direction. I threw the ball, and it vanished into the distance.

This wasn't to say we were out of the woods. Zach and I had neutralised the capes where we were, but more were almost certainly on the way. And with Zach almost fully occupied harvesting a particularly stubborn powerset, it was up to me to defend us both.

Between the powers contained in my jacket and the glasses, I knew there were people around us, but keeping out of sight behind the stone walls. That was fine; I didn't have to be able to see them to affect them. But I didn't want to open hostilities just yet, so I just picked up a rock from beside where I was standing and waited. Your move.

Their opening move was a row of riflemen who popped up from behind a wall and opened fire on us. I shielded Zach as best I could—they couldn't hurt him, but I didn't want him getting distracted at the wrong second—and teleported one foot to the side to create a humungous bloom of flame as visual cover. They kept shooting anyway, so I exerted my pain effect, giving each one a massive cramp in the hand just before he fired.

They stopped firing. Funny, that.

While they were figuring out what to do next, I turned to Zach. "How long to go? They're getting very pushy, here."

"I will be just another moment or so, Taylor." His jaw was set like iron. "This power is likely to be very useful to me."

"Okay, then." If Zach needed another moment or so, he would get another moment or so. He'd been my rock of support since I met him; it was time for me to return the favour.

My glasses gave me warning of the next incoming attack; an odd ripple-effect racing across the parade-ground toward us. I probably wouldn't have noticed it, or understood its significance, until it was far too late. As it was, they flared with a danger signal, highlighting it with red. Acting on instinct, I froze the ground we were standing on with the Gray Boy effect, as far out as it would go.

A text label sprang up in my glasses, with an arrow pointing at the ripple. Power effect of Tōng Líng Tǎ AKA 'Ziggurat'. Earth and stone control.

There was a tremendous, if almost subsonic, crunch as the ripple encountered the Gray Boy effect and split to go around it. In its wake, the surface of the training ground began to grow walls and pillars upward. Seconds later, we were surrounded, hemmed in. The sky briefly became a blue circle, far above; then it was gone, plunging us into darkness.

Not that a mere lack of light bothered me, and Zach even less so. I froze the walls around us, just in case Ziggurat wanted to try something tricky like slamming us with a million tons of rock from either side. This probably wouldn't hurt Zach, but it might disturb his concentration.

It seemed I'd been on the money. There was more rumbling from within the mass of rock that surrounded us. I looked up to see the slab that had closed us off from the light now descending at speed, like God's own runaway freight elevator. Ziggurat was probably unhappy that I'd denied her access to some of her precious rock, and now she wanted to step on us or something.

I might even have been apologetic about it, except that I wasn't.

When the down-rushing slab got close enough for me to affect, I Gray-Boy'd it as well, sealing us into a rectangular box and (I suspected) making life outside very exciting as the thousands of tons of rock descending at airliner speeds came to an abrupt and uncompromising halt. It would've been like a full-on meteorite strike, with Zach and me literally the only ones not affected by the devastation.

"Ah," Zach said suddenly. "That makes things much easier. Your ball has reached its target. He moved several times before it could reach him. I suspect he was being assisted by a teleporter." He looked around at our ad hoc bunker. "This is interesting. I presume you are protecting us from an attack?"

"Yeah," I said. "Ziggurat, apparently. Area effect Shaker, messes with the landscape."

"I see." Zach spoke over his shoulder as he gathered in the latest power he had harvested. "You were correct about my need for assistance. Thank you."

A moment later, the Idiot Ball returned, dropping into my hand as if glad to be home. "You're welcome," I said to Zach. "Did you want her power as well?"

"It is not one that I require." Zach took my other hand. "We are finished here. The Yàngbǎn still possesses a number of powerful capes, but they are no longer the international threat that they were before. I have taken the powers of those they called Null and One, as well as several other very useful ones from the soldiers that were undergoing training."

I decided not to ask what powers Null and One had lost to Zach; the sheer lack of descriptiveness, compared to Ziggurat's name, was creepy in its absence. "Okay, then. Whose ass are we going to kick now?"

Zach beamed at me. "I admire your enthusiasm, Taylor. I do not believe there will be any need to kick any asses where we are going, but it is always a good idea to be prepared." He looked around at the box of force we were currently contained in. "I do not believe we can jump or run at the moment, so do you think you can teleport us to this location?" As he asked the question, a latitude and longitude popped up on my glasses.

I nodded. "Sure. Should I leave the Gray Boy effect up once we leave?"

A mischievous smile crossed Zach's face. "Give it ten seconds after we leave, then let it lapse. My sister says she will teleport in after we have left, so that when she bursts out of the rocky prison, it will come as a complete surprise to Ziggurat."

"I just bet it will." I triggered the teleport and we ended up standing on a beach, looking out at the ocean. The sun was rising to our left, half over ocean and half over land. It was gorgeous.

Seabirds squawked as the steady breeze blew into our faces. I blinked, and suddenly my glasses were showing the training ground back in the CUI, with a huge blocky mound of rock covering where we'd been. I allowed the Gray Boy effect to lapse.

For a long, long moment, nothing happened. The capes—with their uniform-like costumes and the fact that some of them were flying, they could be nothing else—clustered around, power effects shimmering around their hands. But this time, each had their own power effect; nobody was borrowing someone else's.

And then, in the looming mound of rock, a crack appeared. I saw the earth itself shudder, and a few tiles fell off nearby buildings. The crack repaired itself, and then half a dozen more appeared.

Some of the capes came closer, firing their powers at the mound. Force fields and bands of metal and sheets of ice appeared over it, trying to hold it in one piece.

With a sound like thunder, it cracked all the way in half, through the metal and the ice and the force fields. The capes were flung away by the sheer concussion.

Abruptly, the force fields vanished. The ice melted. One by one, the bands of metal broke their bonds and peeled away, as though someone was trying to get in rather than out.

Half the mass of rock visibly moved outward, literal millions of tons of mass simply shoved aside as though it were a recalcitrant door. It began to crumble, along with the replacement pillars and walls that grew from the earth to reinforce the original structure. No matter how thick or strong they were, cracks developed and they crumbled uselessly to gravel.

And then the two halves fell apart altogether; a tremendous dust cloud billowed upward and outward. As it subsided, the capes surged inward again, evidently intent on subduing the intruders. Where Ziggurat had failed with just one power, the many would succeed with their multitude.

Or that was apparently the idea, at least.

Between one instant and the next, the dust cloud vanished altogether. There, in the centre of the ring of vengeful capes, hovered the Simurgh; wings spread and a victorious smile upon her face. As they stared, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

But what she sang, nobody expected, not even me; and I'd seen about everything I thought possible from the Endbringers. It wasn't a mindworm, as she'd used in times past. This time, she actually voiced audible words.

First, she started with the dance movements, then the song came spilling out. "We're no strangers to love/ You know the rules and so do I …"

I blinked. Wait a minute. I know that song. A grin began to work its way across my face. "Holy shit, she's totally going to …"

"Yes, Taylor." Zach's smile was as wide as mine. "We have been studying humour. She and I agree that this is a most appropriate prank."

The Simurgh began to belt the chorus out over Beijing. "Never gonna give you up …" but then I was laughing too hard to listen. By the time the song finished, I was on my knees in the sand with tears running down my face. I had no idea what the CUI capes thought about being Rick-rolled, but to me it was the funniest thing in the world.

A few minutes later, I'd recovered enough to stand up again, brushing the sand from my knees. My face was still flushed and red, but at least I'd gotten over most of the giggles. "Your sister," I declared, "is the biggest troll who never lived under a bridge."

He beamed at me. "She says to thank you for the compliment."

"Tell her she's welcome. So, why are we here again? And where is here, exactly?" As I asked the second question, my glasses popped up the wireframe globe again, showing a spot under the shoulder of Africa. Zooming in, it displayed a name: Republic of Côte d'Ivoire. "Okay, I know where we are, but not the why."

Zach let my words hang in the air for a moment before he answered. "We are here for the final pieces to the puzzle, Taylor. Do you recall how Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown is actually Alexandria?"

I snorted with residual amusement. "It's not like I could exactly forget. Why?"

He appeared to be doing something with his hands; when he pulled them apart, I saw he was holding a leather patch. Reaching out, he placed this on the shoulder of my jacket and smoothed it down. It stayed there when he left it, of course. Because this was Zach, and my jacket wasn't exactly a normal jacket. "We are going to meet her in her third role, and this is the upgrade that will allow you to do it. I borrowed the power improvement from Father."

I twisted my neck to peer down at the patch. The detail was impressive, showing a medieval-style door set into a stone doorway, partly open to show darkness beyond. My glasses threw up a notification:

Power upgrade complete. Teleportation is now interdimensional.

"Interdimensional?" I struggled with the concept. "Why are we going interdimensional?"

"Because that is where our destination is, Taylor." He snapped his fingers, and information scrolled up the lenses of my glasses. "More answers await you. Are you ready to find out the real truths behind the world?"

That question was what decided me. My family and I had been screwed over in one fashion and another for the last few years. If there were answers to be had for exactly why this was happening, I wanted to find them out. And maybe, I might get to punch someone in the nose for it.

I gave him a toothy grin and grasped his hand tightly. "I was born ready." Focusing on the coordinates—which included an odd extra that I hadn't seen before—I triggered the teleport.

Unsurprisingly, it was a weird sensation, kind of like twisting in a direction that didn't exist, but we still went somewhere. Specifically, to a white corridor in a building I was sure I'd never seen before. I looked around, noting how the sand falling from my shoes was the only dirt in the pristine white hallway. There wasn't even any dust that I could see. How often did they sweep this area?

"Well done, Taylor," Zach said happily. "We are here."

"And where is here?" I looked around again, merely reinforcing my initial impression that whoever had built this place had over-ordered on 'hallways, extra white'.

He started forward; I kept pace with him. "This is the nerve centre of the group that has been deluding themselves into thinking they have control over how soon the apocalypse will come."

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." I scissored my hands from side to side. "You're saying the Illuminati exists? And that Rebecca Costa-Brown is part of it? And she's been running the world from behind the scenes?"

"In a very general manner of speaking, yes," he said. "They call themselves Cauldron, not the Illuminati, but the rest is broadly true. And yes, they have had quite an effect on world events up until now, although not as much as they like to think."

"But how—" I stopped as my glasses flared a low-level danger warning. Someone was about to attack me, though I wouldn't be more than mildly inconvenienced. Still, having people just attacking me for no good reason hadn't made me happy when it was Emma and friends, and I just plain wasn't in favour of it.

Not even for a moment did I think Zach was going to be endangered. Don't be silly.

I'd had just enough time to look around and brace myself when a hurricane of wind blasted through the corridor, spinning me around and then pinning me against the wall. Something tried to suck the air from my lungs. My arms and legs were held immobile, preventing me from moving.

I opened my fingers, releasing the Idiot Ball. Seek.

There was another inrush of air, and I was released. Able to breathe again, I looked down at where a woman in her late thirties was half-kneeling on the floor, staring down at her hands which were pressed to the pristine whiteness. She wore a simple off-white shift, reminiscent of a hospital gown. The Idiot Ball bounced once off the floor, and back into my hand.

The woman looked up at me, her long brown hair draped over her face. "What?" Her voice was a bare whisper, as though she hadn't spoken for some time. "How did you … what did you do to me?"

"You attacked me, so I neutralised your power," I said simply. "Who are you?"

Slowly, she stood, steadying herself against the wall, as though even that simple act was foreign to her. "I am … they call me the Custodian."

Zach held his hand out for the Idiot Ball, so I tossed it to him before turning my attention back to the woman. "How long have you been here?" My glasses filled in the final bits of information. "How long have you been made of … air?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It's hard to keep track of time. I just found it easier to stay useful. To carry out the aims of Cauldron."

"Well, that's over and done, now." I gestured to myself and Zach. "I don't know the full details of the plan yet, but I suspect we're here to change things around. Where are you from, anyway?"

"I … it's been so long." She blinked and rubbed her forehead. "I remember home, but I don't know where it is from here."

Zach laid his hand on her forehead. "I can see your world," he announced. "You can go back there, or you can go to Bet. Be aware; your friends and family will have forgotten you, or think you are dead. I can give you possessions and we can send you back, but I cannot change that aspect."

"I'll go back anyway," she said. "I've heard stories about how bad Earth Bet is getting."

"We're working on that," I protested. "The Endbringers don't attack anymore, and the S-class threats are basically gone."

"I still know my Earth better," she said. "Can you send me back now?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Don't you want to say goodbye to anyone?"

Zach snapped his fingers, and her shift became comfortable clothing, layered in ways I hadn't seen before, all covered by a modest hooded cloak. "Oh!" she said, startled. "How did you know what I needed to be wearing?"

"He asked his sister," I guessed. Well, it wasn't that much of a guess. "So, no goodbyes?"

"Who would I say goodbye to?" she asked. "They all know me as the Custodian, not as who I used to be." A grimace crossed her face. "And I suspect the few who remember me as I was wouldn't care enough to wish me well. I was a useful servant for them, but even if they did have kindly feelings toward me, you've taken my powers, making me useless to them."

Zach bounced the Idiot Ball on the floor so it went straight to my hand. Then he held up a delicately-carved wooden bangle with a wavy blue and white pattern inlaid into it. "Here are your powers," he said. "You will be able to control the change. But I advise you not to stay, all the same. This facility will soon be shutting down."

I blinked; I'd figured he would be making changes, sure. But shutting the place down altogether? I didn't even know what they did here, except for secretly pretending to rule the world. "Uh … Alexandria won't be happy," I ventured.

"I do not care about the Chief Director's happiness," he said blandly. "I do care about yours. Once you find out how they do business here, you will also be happy about shutting it down."

Well, that was laid out as plainly as it could be. "Okay, then. How are we getting … uh, what was your name again, sorry? I'm Taylor."

"It has been quite some time," the woman who used to be the Custodian said. "I'm Deborah." She looked at Zach quizzically. "Who are you? I couldn't affect you with my powers at all."

"That's Zachary," I explained helpfully. "He's an Endbringer."

Her eyes widened as she stared at him, then back at me. "And you travel with him? Why aren't you terrified?"

I smiled. "If you'd seen one tenth of what he's done for me, you wouldn't be asking that question."

"Others are coming," Zach said. "If you would like to take Deborah home, I will wait for you." As he spoke, the glasses popped up a new series of coordinates for me, including the same extra non-direction that the last one had featured. "And this is for you." He handed Deborah the bangle.

She shook her head as she looked between us again. "I don't understand this at all. How have you made my power into an object?"

"It's one of his little tricks," I explained cheerfully as I took her hand. "He's got a few of them. You might be wondering why you're taking this so calmly. That's another one. Ready to go?"

She eyed Zach extra dubiously as she took in my words. He beamed back at her, entirely unfazed by her suspicious demeanour. Then she looked at me. "Yes, I'm ready to go."

I triggered the teleport, dropping us into a quiet side-street in what looked like a populous city. Men and women, dressed similarly to Deborah, bustled back and forth across the entrance to the street, but nobody seemed to have noticed our arrival.

"Well," I said. "Good luck."

"Thank you." She looked me up and down. "As immodest as your clothing is, I do like your jacket."

"Everyone says that—well, not the immodest bit, but about the jacket—but thanks anyway. Have a good life." I raised my hand in a wave, then teleported back to the white corridor.

"It went well?" asked Zach.

"Sure." I shrugged, then gestured at myself. "She called my clothing immodest. I'm covered up. What's that about?"

"Where she is from, they have been in an Abrahamic theocracy since the fifteen hundreds," he explained. "Women there are supposed to be more domestic than adventurous. Blue jeans and leather jackets are not considered modest."

"Well, excuse me for being a liberated woman in the twenty-first century," I snarked. "So, where do we go next?"

"Hey!" The voice came from down the corridor a ways. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

No particular danger signal accompanied it, so I turned casually to look. A blond man in a business suit stood there, wearing glasses and a pocket protector. He also held a pistol, down at his side.

"Hello, Mr. Kurt Wynn," Zach said cheerfully. "Briefly a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine, once known as Harbinger, now known as the Number Man. You possess an extreme awareness of your body and the space around it, do you not?"

I had to give the guy credit; he didn't waste time asking Zach how he knew all that stuff. He raised the pistol and pointed it at us. My sense of danger only blipped a little bit; considering how durable the jacket's powers made me, that was no particular surprise.

"You're coming with me," he said grimly. "You're going to be explaining yourself to—"

My glasses flared with danger, just as a portal opened right in front of me, just large enough for a slim hand to reach through for the tab of my jacket. I went to step away, but another hand in the middle of my back prevented me from moving. However, Zach reacted even more quickly.

In a single blurred motion, he captured the hand reaching for my jacket, somehow pulled the portal all the way open, and yanked the woman on the other side through. The portal snapped shut when Zach let go of it … but he still had a trace from it.

"Hello," he said, beaming down at the woman, who was now staring up at him with real fear in her eyes. "It is nice to meet you at last, Contessa."



End of Part Twenty-Four

[A/N: The next chapter of I'm HALPING! will be the last! Woo!]