Price of Blood [Worm fanfic] (Complete)

Price of Blood



Part Six: Chasing Shadows



Danny Hebert

Gravel crunched under the tyres of the car as Danny pulled into the driveway. He set the park brake and switched off the engine, then settled back with a sigh. It was good to relax for just a moment, but he couldn't sit in the car for too long. Taylor needed him, now more than ever.

There was a tap on the car window. His eyes widening, he turned to see a brightly-clad figure standing beside the car. Slowly, he opened the door. “Uh, Velocity, right?”

“That's correct, Mr Hebert.”

Carefully, mindful of many small aches and pains, Danny climbed out of the car. By the time he was on his feet, he still hadn't figured out the answer to a particularly pressing question, so he decided to just ask it. “Uh … what are you doing here?”

The speedster shrugged slightly. “Armsmaster's orders. I'm supposed to search the house, with your permission, and locate any evidence of your daughter being bullied.”

Danny frowned slightly. “He didn't mention this to me.”

Velocity managed to look irritated, even with a good portion of his face covered by his mask. “He wasn't permitted to. We're under high-end security protocols, following the Swarm incident. A part of those protocols requires us to presume that enemy interests have people inside the PRT building, and to maintain appropriate information security.”

Danny blinked. “There's moles inside the PRT building?”

“Hah. As if.” Velocity shook his head. “But the protocols are there, so we have to follow them until either the Deputy Director or the Director herself rescinds them. So Armsmaster didn't tell you that I'd be going to your house. That way, nobody else knows it, either.”

“Oh.” It sort of made sense, in a burn-before-reading, paranoid kind of way. “Well, uh, okay. So what'll you be looking for?”

Velocity shrugged. “Apart from this journal that your daughter mentioned? I have no idea. Notes. Photographs of bruising. Hate mail on social media. Do you know if she even goes on social media?”

Danny blinked. “She doesn't own a phone. And she doesn't spend hours a day on the computer in her room, so I guess not?” He was struck by the guilty knowledge that he knew even less about his own daughter's habits than he had previously imagined.

“Okay, we can scratch social media unless she points out stuff on it, I suppose.” Velocity sighed. “We've done courses on this. Never expected to actually have to do it without someone coaching me.”

“I thought we were over and done with this shit,” Danny agreed ruefully. “Well, her room's upstairs. I can show you where it is, if you want.”

The hero made a negatory gesture. “I'll need you to stay out here for a moment. If someone recognised your daughter from that photo that went up on PHO, and linked you to this, there's an outside chance that people might be coming after you. So I need to check for anyone lurking inside.”

“What? Coming after me?” Danny shook his head. “That makes no sense at all.”

“Lynch mobs rarely do.” Velocity's face – the part of it that Danny could see under the mask – took on an expression of distaste. “I've seen it before, and the victim never manages to change their minds with logic. So if it even looks like happening, don't try to argue. Just get the hell out of there.”

“Right.” Danny felt a chill down his back. “Thanks. I guess.”

“You're welcome,” Velocity said lightly, before he became all business again. “Do I have your permission to search the house for evidence that your daughter was being bullied?”

“Um, sure. Uh … did you need a key to get in?” Danny fumbled in his pocket.

“We cut our own,” Velocity assured him. “Back when we were still wondering if you were a suspect.” Producing said key, the speedster moved up to the front door. It opened, and he was inside before Danny could blink.

Lights came on all over the house at once. Danny barely caught sight of a blurred form against curtains in an upstairs window, before the front door opened again.

“Well, that's that,” Velocity said, stepping out on to the porch. There was a thick sheaf of papers in his right hand, bound together with a bulldog clip. “Found it.”

Danny stared at the papers. There were a lot of them. “Is that … it? Her journal?”

“It was in the right place.” Velocity's expression was unhappy.

“Do I even want to see it?” Part of Danny wanted to witness what had been done to his little girl. Another part feared what he would find out.

“You can look, but you can't touch,” the hero warned him. “Evidence procedures.”

“Right, right.” Danny leaned forward to look at the first page. “Well, it's definitely Taylor's handwriting. I'd know it anywhere.” He concentrated on the writing. “September eight. Six vicious emails, Sophia pushed me down the stairs when I was near the bottom, making me drop my books, tripped and shoved me no less than three times during gym, and threw my clothes at me while I was in the shower after gym class had ended, getting them wet ...”

Trailing to a halt, Danny stared again at the sheaf of papers. It looked very thick. “Is that all like … that?”

Velocity nodded. “Yes. I flicked through it. She was very thorough. There's even a section with nothing but hurtful emails. That'll be something to cross-check.”

“Oh. Good. So … that'll be enough to nail whoever's been bullying her? This girl, Sophia?”

“I'll be honest, Mr Hebert.” Velocity's voice was serious. “Something like this, handwritten, is, um …” He trailed off, as if searching for a word. “I think they call it 'circumstantial' evidence. It's damaging but not, uh, set in stone as far as evidence goes. A good defence lawyer could pull it to pieces by casting doubt on individual parts, then using that to discredit the whole.”

Danny nodded, recalling conversations with Alan Barnes. “Yeah, I've got a friend who's a lawyer. He told me something about that. But it would be good as … corroborating evidence, I think it's called, right?”

Velocity chuckled. “Now you've got me. But I'll get it into the system as fast as I can. Let the big brains sort it out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Danny agreed. “Okay, so how do I get back into the PRT building?”

“Park nearby and call them,” Velocity said immediately. “They'll send a car to pick you up.”

“I don't have a cell phone, either,” Danny pointed out. “I … I don't believe in them.”

“Hm.” Velocity rubbed his chin. “All right, how about this. You leave your car here, and I'll call the PRT to come pick you up and take custody of this journal at the same time. While we're waiting, you can pack whatever you want to bring along. That sound okay to you?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “It does. You like tea or coffee?”

“Please.” Velocity managed to almost sound affronted. “If I'm going to be running around town all night, I'm going to need all the caffeine I can get.”

“Gotcha.” Although he didn't really feel like it, Danny grinned slightly. “Coffee it is.”

<><>​

Clockblocker

Dennis felt like cheering when the PRT building came into view. He was young and fit, but walking for a couple of hours at a time was still hard on the feet. “First thing I'm gonna do,” he declared, “is take my boots off, put my feet under the air conditioning outlet, and wiggle my toes.”

“Whatever floats your boat,” Shadow Stalker retorted. “Hey, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Dennis tilted his head. “I didn't hear anything.”

“It came from over there.” Shadow Stalker pointed. “It was like a groan. I'm gonna go check it out.”

“Be careful,” Dennis said. “It might be a groan man, and you're just a teenager.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head as if in pain. Behind his faceplate, Dennis grinned. Gotcha.

“Just … shut up and stay here,” she growled. “I'll let you know if I see anything.”

Turning to shadow, she leaped toward the roof of the low building before them. Dennis recognised it as a post office, but that was about it. She blended in perfectly with the shadows, dropping off the other side of the building.

He waited, occasionally casting wistful glances toward the PRT building, but determined not to leave his partner behind. After a good thirty seconds had passed with no return, he set his jaw and started moving around the building. Some of the patches of shadow were deeper than others, so he pulled the small flashlight off his belt and turned it on.

Thus equipped, he made his way to the front of the post office, to spot Shadow Stalker examining the wall. No, he realised as he got closer, she was looking at the post office boxes.

“What's up, Stalker?” he asked cheerfully as he got closer. “Looking to take out a box of your own?”

“No,” she replied absently. “I thought maybe this one had been broken into.” She tapped one of the boxes. “Marks on it, see?”

He couldn't see the marks she was referring to, but her eyesight was usually pretty good. “Not really.” Reaching out, he wiggled the little door. It refused to budge. “They didn't get in, though.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes that's the best you can hope for.” Dusting her hands off, she turned away from the wall of boxes. “Let's go.”

<><>​

Shadow Stalker

“Damn right.” Clockblocker led the way back around to the street they had just come from. It was only about a block to go.

Sophia hated to admit it, but since getting the call, she had actually begun to enjoy the patrol, if only because it would soon be over. This'll be the last patrol I go on with the other Wards, she realised with what was almost a pang of regret. At least until this operation is over. Whenever that is. Hope it isn't too long. Don't want Mom and Terry thinking I'm a villain or something. For too long, anyway.

Which reminded her. I still have to text him back, let him know I'm good to go.

“Going rooftop,” she told Clockblocker.

“Wow, seriously?” the white-clad teen asked, incredulity clear in his tone. Dramatically, he pointed. “There's the PRT building right there. We're on the home stretch. And you want to go looking for more trouble?”

“It's just a quick check around,” she retorted, nettled. “Won't be a minute.”

Before he could muster another argument, she leaped upward, phasing into shadow as she did so. With the ease of long practice, she scaled the side of the ten-storey building in just seconds. Glancing backward, she could see Clockblocker standing on the footpath below, looking up at her.

Was he checking out my butt? Again?

With a shake of her head – Clockblocker made this decision easy for her – she reached around under her cloak. The burner phone, which had until very recently resided in the post office box, now nestled in one of the spare pouches on her belt, along with the bluetooth earpiece that had been taped to it. She pulled the phone out now and powered it up.

Checking through the Contacts list, she found only one number. Quickly – Clockblocker was a little dense, but he wasn't stupid – she typed out a single word. READY.

The reply came so fast that he must have been waiting on her. GOOD. PUT THE EARPIECE IN.

Oh. Okay. They must be moving up the timetable. She allowed herself a feral grin. Good.

Lifting her mask for a moment, she fitted the earpiece and turned it on. With her mask on and her hood up, nobody would notice that it was even there. Which, she supposed, was the whole idea. The phone went back into the pouch. Let's do this thing.

<><>​

Danny Hebert

The ride back with Agent Petrowski had been … not quite boring, but not as tense as it could have been. Not much conversation had passed on the trip; the PRT man seemed content to simply drive, while Danny was caught up in his own thoughts. He was vaguely grateful that the man didn't want to make conversation. Or maybe he's not cleared for this? Danny neither knew nor cared. He just wanted to get back to Taylor.

They turned down the side-street leading, Danny presumed, to the rear entrance of the PRT building. The headlights picked out two forms walking, both costumed. One was in all white, the other in black. They turned to look, shading their eyes, as the driver slowed the car.

He stopped the vehicle beside them and buzzed the window down. “Clockblocker, Shadow Stalker,” he greeted them easily. “Petrowski. Headed back to base?”

“Yes,” the boy replied. The girl stayed silent. “What's the matter?”

“Oh, nothing's the matter,” Petrowski assured him. “Want a lift? Only a few hundred yards, but it's a few hundred yards you don't have to walk if you don't want to.”

Clockblocker hesitated. “Got ID?”

“And who's that in the car with you?” asked Shadow Stalker sharply. “He's not PRT.”

“Yes, I've got ID,” Petrowski said, showing Clockblocker the same card he had used to identify himself to Danny. “And I'm escorting this gentleman in to base. He's with me.”

“Oh, okay.” Clockblocker glanced at the dark-clad girl. “Shadow Stalker, should we take up the kind gentleman's offer?” They can't be any older than Taylor, Danny thought with a touch of surrealism.

“Suit yourself,” the girl declared with what might even have been a snort of disdain.

“Well, yeah,” he retorted cheerfully. “Thanks, Agent Petrowski.” Opening the back door, the teen hero climbed into the car. “Whoa, what's this?”

'This' was the heavy plastic envelope into which Taylor's journal had been zipped. Petrowski had put it on the back seat for the duration of the drive.

“That's sensitive material,” the agent said firmly, reaching back between the seats. “Pass it here, please.” Danny willed himself not to react as Clockblocker passed it over. “Thank you.” Petrowski tucked it securely down between the seats.

“No problems.” The boy was just settling himself down when the door opened again.

“Shove over,” Shadow Stalker ordered him. “Don't take up the whole damn seat, here.”

Despite having no view of Clockblocker's face, Danny would almost have guaranteed that the boy was rolling his eyes. “Wow, and here I thought you were gonna rough it, Stalker.”

“What, and let you write up the after-action report to make yourself look good? Dream on.” Shadow Stalker settled herself into the car, pulled her cloak around herself, and closed the door. “Okay, we can go now.”

“Sure.” Petrowski put the car into motion. Danny could almost feel the palpable curiosity exhibited by the two teens in the back seat. That was fine; he had a certain amount of that quality himself.

Well, may as well ask. Clearing his throat, he looked over his shoulder at the young heroes. “Uh, can I ask you guys a question?”

Petrowski cleared his throat. “They're not cleared to discuss sensitive material.” His tone was light, but the warning was clear.

“Yeah, I got that,” Danny agreed. “Just a general question.”

“Sure,” said Clockblocker readily enough. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, uh, what's it like being a Ward?” Danny asked, regretting the question at the last moment. They probably get asked this question every time they meet anyone on the street. But he had to know. For Taylor's sake.

“That's a tough one,” Clockblocker said carefully. “It's fun. Fraught, sometimes. But we've got our team as backup. And we've got the Protectorate to show us how. Stalker? Anything you want to add?”

Shadow Stalker didn't reply; if Danny didn't know better, he would have sworn she was staring intently at him. But that was ridiculous; what reason would she have to do that? He didn't know her, and she certainly didn't know him.

“Earth Bet to Shadow Stalker,” Clockblocker said cheerfully, elbowing his colleague in the ribs. “Shadow Stalker, come in.”

That got her attention; she curled her arm protectively over her ribs and turned on Clockblocker furiously. “Seriously, Clock. What the hell?”

“Hey, just trying to get your attention, Stalker,” the white-clad hero reminded her hastily. “We were talking about what life's like as a Ward.”

“What's to talk about?” she asked with a shrug. “We go out, we kick ass, we come back and go to school. No big.” Leaning forward, she looked more closely at Danny. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

The intent gaze was beginning to make Danny slightly nervous. “Pretty sure I'd remember if I knew a member of the Wards,” he observed, trying to make a joke of it.

“Not if you only knew us out of costume,” Clockblocker pointed out cheerfully.

“Sir, what's your name?” asked Shadow Stalker abruptly. Danny opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when Petrowski cleared his throat loudly.

“As I said, Shadow Stalker,” the agent stated firmly, “I'm escorting this gentleman in to base. On a sensitive matter. In fact, it would be a good idea if you both forgot you saw him altogether. Is that understood?”

“Uh, yeah,” Clockblocker said hastily. “Stalker?”

She didn't answer for a long moment. Danny saw Petrowski actually opening his mouth again before she spoke. “Okay, okay. Fine. Sheesh. It's just that he looks so damn familiar.”

The nose of the car dipped downward as Petrowski drove the vehicle into what Danny presumed to be the PRT undercover carpark. Nobody spoke as the car rolled onward, finally pulling up in a carpark space. Petrowski killed the engine and set the park brake before turning once more to the two Wards. “You two go on. And don't speak about this to anyone. Understood?”

“Yeah, sure, fine,” Clockblocker said at once. “Come on, Stalker.” He got out, followed a moment later by the dark-clad girl. The car door closed behind them. They walked side by side toward the lift, the boy's slightly longer legs compensating for the girl's brisk stride.

Danny cleared his throat. “Uh, was -” His words broke off as Petrowski held up a finger for silence, then picked up a radio microphone.

“Petrowski here. In the garage. I have Mr Hebert with me. Clockblocker and Shadow Stalker are on the way down. Repeat, Charlie Bravo and Sierra Sierra are on the way down.”

The radio crackled with what may have been a “Roger” as he put the microphone down, then turned toward Danny. “You had a question, Mr Hebert?”

“Uh, yeah.” Danny had the feeling that he was making an idiot out of himself, but he didn't know how. “Why didn't you want them to know who I was?”

Petrowski eyed him impassively for a long moment. “I'm afraid I don't have clearance to tell you that, Mr Hebert.”

“Is it to protect Taylor?” Danny hated feeling as though he was begging, but for Taylor's sake he would do so on bended knee if he had to. “Please tell me at least that much.”

Minutes seemed to pass, but in reality it had to be only ten or fifteen seconds. “It is definitely for your daughter's benefit, yes,” Petrowski conceded.

“Right. Good. Thanks.” Danny gestured at the car door. “Is it okay if we get out now?”

“It is.” Petrowski opened his door, then retrieved the plastic envelope before getting out. Danny took a little longer, as he had to wrestle his over-stuffed overnight bag out as well. They headed for the lift; just as they got there, it opened to disgorge half a dozen fully-armoured PRT troopers.

Danny stepped back, a little startled; more than one containment foam nozzle tracked him, then pointed at the ceiling once more. “Time?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Forty-five seconds,” Petrowski replied. Danny had no time to ask him what that was about, as the agent was hustling him into the elevator. He pressed a blank white card into Danny's hand. “This will get you to the infirmary and the cafeteria. Don't go anywhere else unescorted.”

“Right. Uh …” Before Danny could formulate any one of the dozen or so questions he wanted to ask, Petrowski had pressed the button for the fifth floor and stepped back out of the lift. Danny watched the doors closed and then the lift started upward.

I have no idea what's going on around here.

Still, he supposed, it was a good thing that someone did.

<><>​

Shadow Stalker

“So what was with you and that guy?” asked Clockblocker as the lift doors closed. “You couldn't take your eyes off of him. I mean, seriously, he's old enough to be …” He cut himself off. Your father, he'd meant to say. But to say that would remind him of his own father, not so slowly dying of cancer. “Are you into old guys now?” he added slyly, wanting to take his mind off the deep pain. “Do I have to warn Armsmaster to watch out?”

Sophia drove an elbow into his ribs, not gently, as the lift came to a halt. “Shut the fuck up,” she said curtly. “None of your business. He reminded me of someone, that's all. Just wish I could remember who.”

“Like Petrowski told us,” Clockblocker reminded her, sounding a little pained. Good. “Sensitive business.”

As they stepped from the lift, the new phone vibrated gently in its pouch; Sophia heard the ringtone in her ear. Casually, as if scratching her head, she reached up and tapped the button to accept the call.

Calvert began speaking at once, without so much as a greeting or preamble. “Be aware that the plans have been moved up. Operation Disgrace starts tonight. I'll give you what guidance I can, but once it begins, it's up to you to get out. It has to be absolutely authentic.”

Sophia nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

“Well, good,” Clockblocker said more cheerfully. “I'm glad.”

“Excellent. Can you tell me where you are right now, and who you are with?”

She had to remind herself that the other Ward could not hear the voice in the earpiece she was wearing.

“Uh, Clock?” she said. “Can you hit the button to get into the Wards' base? I think I've got something stuck to my boot.”

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Wow, didn't your mother ever teach you to wipe your feet?” asked Clockblocker rhetorically as Sophia leaned back against the wall of the hallway and fiddled with her boot.

“I can always wipe 'em on you,” she threatened.

“Bully,” he complained. “Meanie.” But despite his put-upon tone, he nonetheless moved up to the retinal scanner and lowered his face toward the reader. The light beep announced that he was recognised; she moved up alongside him as the countdown began.

The heavy metal doors slid open and she entered the Wards base. Even without the warning, she would have been on edge. She wasn't quite sure what to expect, but seeing Kid Win arguing with a tech was not it.

“Look, kid, I'm just trying to do my job here,” the tech said in a world-weary voice that made Sophia suddenly certain that this argument had already covered this ground. And would again.

“Is your job taking away our phones?” demanded Kid Win. “You realise we need these things to communicate when we're in the field.”

“What's happening?” asked Clockblocker, just as the tech went into a spiel about a 'security exploit' in the Wards' phones that needed to be patched right away.

This is it, she realised. It's happening now. Behind her, the doors started to close. If I don't move now, I'll be trapped down here.

“Hey Clock hand my phone in thanks gotta go eat,” she rattled off as fast as she could, pulling out the phone in question and tossing it to the white-clad Ward.

“Wait, what, huh?” blurted Clockblocker, fumbling the phone twice before catching it. Across the room, Aegis had turned to look, and his eyes had locked on to Sophia. He's in on it, or he's been told the story. Either way, I can't guarantee that he'll let me go.

Even as Aegis began to move, Sophia threw herself backward, slipping between the closing doors. I got maybe five seconds lead time. Gotta use that.

Sophia had won races with margins in the tenths of a second. Of course, the people she'd been competing against hadn't been able to fly. She pelted along the corridor toward the lift, her ears picking up the hiss of the door beginning to open behind her. When she reached the lift, she slapped the call button, but the doors did not open. The display showed that the elevator was at the fifth floor. Unless it starts moving right now, it won't get here in time. It didn't move. She turned toward the stairwell door and yanked on the handle. It refused to move.

Shit, shit, shit. The door opened from the Wards' base, and Aegis came out. He was actually hovering about a foot from the floor. “Shadow Stalker!” he called out.

In a last-ditch ploy, Sophia tapped the side of her mask, causing the Tinker-made lenses to slide down. Immediately, electrical lines began tracing themselves over the walls and floor all around her. The lift and stairwell doors were a no-show; there was far too much electricity going through either one. Fuck. Trapped.

“Shadow Stalker, get back here!” Aegis was flying toward her now. He would be on her in less than a second. She needed a way out.

There.

It was at knee height, but there was a void inside the wall. Air duct. Normally, she would have had to find a vent and then remove said vent before finding out if she could actually fit down it. But her powers made all of that immaterial, so to speak. She went to shadow about one tenth of a second before Aegis ploughed through where she'd been standing. The disruption of her shadow body made things painful and awkward as she reformed, but she didn't let it stop her.

Lunging forward, she pushed her way into the wall, turning so that she would line up along the air duct. Now to find out where this goes, and whether Piggy ever thought to put electrified mesh in the ducts. If the Director had done that, this was going to be an extremely short and undignified mission.

No. Commander Calvert's depending on me. I'm not gonna fuck this up.

One way or another, I've got to get out of the building.

<><>​

Aegis

“Damn it!” Aegis punched the wall where Shadow Stalker had vanished. The metal dented very slightly, even as the muscles in his hand rearranged themselves to support his broken knuckles. “We had her!”

The door to the Wards' base opened once more, and Armsmaster emerged. “Aegis. What happened? Where is she?”

Carlos took a deep breath, then another. Going off the handle at his superior would not be a good move. Armsmaster didn't have a high tolerance for excessive displays of emotion. “Inside the walls somewhere.”

“Inside the walls?”

He bit back on his frustration. “Air ducts, I think. But we had her. She must have figured something out. One more second and the door would've shut. She would've been locked in, and you could've taken her into custody. But she knew something was up. Dunno how, but she took one look at me and bolted. I got out here, and she went shadow and dived into the wall.” Aware that he was beginning to babble, he forced himself to shut up.

Armsmaster strode closer. “Do you think someone tipped her off somehow?”

“I can't see how, or who.” Carlos shook his head. “You wouldn't even let us tell Clockblocker.” He took a deep breath. “My failure, sir. I'm senior Ward on site. I'll wear it.”

“We'll burn that bridge when we come to it.” Armsmaster's voice was sharp. “Right now, we have a dangerous fugitive running loose in the PRT building. With me.” He went silent for a moment as he tapped in the code for the stairwell door, then pulled the door open. “Put me through to Maintenance.”

Aegis nearly replied to that, then he realised that Armsmaster must have activated the phone in his helmet. As Armsmaster took the stairs three at a time, while Carlos flew beside him, the armoured hero gave a series of commands, which Carlos only partially understood. Something to do with closing air vents and overclocking the ventilation fans.

“Gallant and Clockblocker?” Aegis had to ask. Two guards in the stairwell, armed with foam dispensers, stepped aside for them.

“Gallant is briefing him. They'll be going up to the fifth floor to cover the infirmary. I've put in calls for the rest of the Wards, as well as the Protectorate, but we've only got a narrow window before she finds a way out. The air ducts will be too small for her to get through in places without going to her shadow form. Once she does that, the high pressure air will quite literally flush her out.”

“Flush her? Where to?”

Armsmaster's tone was grimly satisfied. “A holding cell.”

“And if she finds a place where she can go solid?” Carlos didn't want to seem to be nitpicking the plan, but it seemed to be an obvious question.

“If it's inside the air ducts, she will present a significant obstacle to air flow. Maintenance will be able to pinpoint her for us, and we can cage her in and capture her.”

Carlos thought about that. “What if she leaves the air ducts altogether?”

“Then she will neither get flushed out nor become an obstacle. In which case, we leave the fans running and search the building, floor by floor if necessary.”

Carlos felt a little sickened. Shadow Stalker had not been a nice person, sure, but she'd also been a teammate. Now they were hunting her down. “What, uh, what levels of force are you authorising, sir?”

“Level four at minimum. Level five if necessary. Once we have her subdued, we can use specialist restraints to stop her from slipping away. Until then, we don't go easy. Subdue, restrain, and then ask questions.”

Level four was hard physical contact rather than locks and holds; it also included pepper spray. Level five, on the other hand, was anything short of actual lethal force. “Sir, are we absolutely certain that she's guilty here? She may be –”

Armsmaster's voice was grim. “We've found strong evidence that Shadow Stalker effectively triggered the Swarmbringer. By running, she sealed her guilt. We have to bring her in for public safety.”

Carlos also heard what Armsmaster didn't say out loud. And if we don't, the PR fallout will be horrific. “Got it.”

Armsmaster nodded. “Good.”

They kept moving.



End of Part Six

 

Price of Blood


Part Seven: Mixed Results


[A/N: With many thanks to my beta (for this chapter and many previous ones) who has done her best to ensure a certain standard of quality. All hail Lady Columbine of Mystal!]


Danny Hebert

The PA speaker in the infirmary crackled to life. “Attention. Attention. This is Armsmaster. The PRT building is now under lockdown. Master/Stranger protocols are in effect with regards to Shadow Stalker. If seen, call in her location immediately. Do not approach unless appropriately equipped. All non-lethal measures are now approved. This is not a drill. I say again, this is not a drill. Armsmaster, out.”

Danny's first instinct was to check on Taylor. She had rolled on to her side and pulled a fold of the covers almost over her head, but she was still fast asleep. He grinned slightly; both he and Anne-Rose had teased her about her habit of 'cocooning' when she was younger.

His next thoughts were about the content of the message. Shadow Stalker? Master/Stranger protocols? What are they?

Wait a minute. A Master is a cape who controls people, isn't it?

A moment later, his memory delivered to him a playback of the car ride, giving a lift to Clockblocker and Shadow Stalker herself. Was she under control even then?

She'd been abrupt, almost rude, and convinced that she knew him. Why? I'm pretty sure I've never met her before. He puzzled over that for a moment. If she was under control, maybe whoever was controlling her thought they knew me? But I don't know any capes, let alone any Masters. He paused, rethinking that. Well, apart from Taylor. But I'm pretty sure that she's not controlling Shadow Stalker. From what everyone says, her thing is bugs.

This still, of course, left the huge issue unaddressed. Taylor and I are in the same building as a parahuman that they're trying to capture. This is not a good thing.

Going to the door, he opened it and leaned out. The PRT guard stationed in the corridor turned to face Danny and for a brief moment, Danny caught a glimpse of a phone in the man's hand. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, you can,” Danny said bluntly. “I just heard that PA message. I don't feel safe here, and I don't feel that my daughter's safe either. I want to take her home.”

The guard shook his head. “I'm sorry, sir. That's not going to happen.”

Something about the guard's attitude rubbed him entirely the wrong way. “You can't force us to stay.”

“It's not just you, sir.” The guard's voice seemed patient. “The building's under lockdown. Nobody enters or leaves until we've resolved the situation.”

“And if Shadow Stalker decides to take one of us hostage?” Danny's voice was challenging.

“Highly doubtful, but we'll resolve the situation if it comes up.” The guard wasn't budging an inch, physically or figuratively. “Now please, go back in the room.”

As much as he wanted to stand there and argue, Danny could tell that it wouldn't get him anywhere, so he closed the door again. Taking a second to make a rude gesture toward the door, he crossed the infirmary to the small bathroom and went inside. I was going to get some sleep. Like hell. Bending over the basin, he took his glasses off and splashed water on his face.

<><>​

Clockblocker

“ … not a drill. Armsmaster, out.”

Dennis shook his head as the lift continued upward. “I still can't believe it.”

“Trust me on this,” Gallant said grimly. “Armsmaster's mad enough to bite his halberd in half. And I saw Shadow's aura when she walked in. One look at Aegis, and she went from I-know-something-you-don't-know to fight-or-flight. I'm guessing it was the phones that gave her the clue. She knew we were on to her. That's why she bolted.”

The doors opened and they stepped into the corridor, Gallant leading the way. Dennis was still having trouble getting his head around the whole thing. “I mean, wow, she's not exactly easy to get along with, but to actually bully someone out of costume? Long term? Hard enough to make them trigger? That's something a villain would do, not a hero.”

“That's basically why we're trying to capture her right now,” Gallant reminded him. “If she's guilty of all that, then she's effectively a villain. You can spin a one-off clash as a temporary thing. A whole series of deliberate acts? That's no mistake. She had to have meant it.”

Ahead of them, a set of locked doors barred the hallway. Two guards watched them approach. One stepped forward with his hand out, while the other hefted his foam sprayer. “That's as far as you go without authorisation. Cards, please.”

“Sure.” Gallant got his card out; beside him, Dennis did the same. “You do realise that this lockdown's all about Shadow Stalker going off the reservation, right? Nobody else here's been compromised, yeah?”

“Not part of my orders,” the guard told him. “Building's on lockdown, nobody gets past without authorisation. End of story.” He accepted the cards and handed them back to his partner.

“Oh, for God's sake!” burst out Dennis. “We're Wards! We're even in costume! It's not like there's that many teenagers running around the building!”

“Doesn't matter,” the other guard said flatly. “You do your thing, and we'll do ours. Right now, our thing is manning this checkpoint and making sure that nobody gets through without authorisation.” He swiped the cards through a slot set in the wall, one at a time, taking care with it. Each time, the reader emitted a clear triple beep. “All right then, you're clear.”

“Thank you,” Gallant told him gravely, accepting the cards back. “You're just doing your jobs, is all.”

At some unseen signal, the doors slid apart and the guards stepped aside to let them through. Dennis was still fuming just a little. He was tempted to freeze one of them, but he pushed the impulse down. It wasn't easy.

“Just doing their jobs, my ass,” he muttered as they walked away from the now-closing doors. “They could see who we were.”

“And if we weren't supposed to be there?” Gallant gestured back toward the doors. “How much trouble would they be in if they let us through without challenging us, and we got hurt?”

Dennis shook his head. “Well, if you're gonna use logic …” he muttered.

“Damn straight I am. Now could you humour me and at least pretend to be professional?” The infirmary was just around the next corner, but as they neared it, they heard the pounding of boots.

They both looked at each other. Gallant got in first. “What the hell is that?”

By unspoken agreement, they both took off running.

<><>​

Thomas Calvert

After an interminable period of dead air, Shadow Stalker's voice came back over the line. He could hear the echo of her breathing, which told him that she was in an enclosed space. “Commander Calvert?”

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Air ducts.” She was panting. “They didn't give me any warning, but they were taking the phones off the Wards, probably to plant evidence on mine. Aegis is in on it, I think. I saw him giving me a weird look and realised it was on. So I bolted. Makes me look more guilty, right?”

“Well done,” he told her warmly. “Now, you have to keep moving. What floor are you on?”

“Third, I think. I'm trying for the roof. They'll never catch me if I get that high up.”

“No, you'll have to get out of the ducts soon. I don't know all of the security protocols, but overlooking the air ducting is a rookie mistake. The Director and Armsmaster aren't rookies.”

“But the corridors will be manned. If I want to get out, I'll need to show myself. And if the troopers aren't in on it and get the drop on me, I'm done.”

“Okay, I'll cut you a break.” He pursed his lips. “Fifth floor. The guard on the infirmary will look the other way. Make the most of it.”

“Fifth floor. Got it.”

“Good. Call me back once you're out of the building.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, he ended the call. Time was critical now; he sent a text to Corporal Reed's burner phone. SHADOW STALKER COMING YOUR WAY. IMPERATIVE THAT SHE ESCAPES.

As he did so, the PA system came to life. “Attention. Attention. This is Armsmaster. The PRT building is now under lockdown …”

<><>​

Shadow Stalker

Now that she had a goal, Sophia went for it with everything she had. Alternating between physical and shadow forms, she hoisted herself upward through the building's air ducts, looking around for any clue as to where she was. At first, there was nothing to see, but then the air vents began to close. That was worrying enough. Although she didn't need to go through them, it heralded something bad. She just knew it.

The first confirmation came as a strong puff of air against her immaterial form, pushing her back a few feet. She turned solid, feeling the breeze increase against her body. She was sweating heavily inside her costume, but that was from exertion and heat, not fear. Never fear. Though the breeze was temporarily welcome, cooling her down.

But then it began to blow more strongly. Oh shit, that's what they're doing. Flushing me out with high-pressure air.

Grimly, she climbed upward, the force of the wind starting to count on her now. She was almost at the fifth floor now. Over the edge she wriggled, having a much harder time now that she was stuck in physical form. The ducting widened, reducing the impact of the air on her, but still making it impossible to resume shadow form without being blown back down the air shaft.

Have to keep moving. I'm a survivor. I don't give up. I don't lose.

The wind was now close to a howling gale. She could feel the air pressure in front of her as she clawed her way along, fingernails hanging on to the joins in the metal. Then she heard another noise. A strange metallic clattering.

She was in a long straight stretch of the ducting, with air vents at regular intervals along the 'floor' of the duct. Looking ahead, she could see bars of light appearing and disappearing as each air vent opened and then closed in sequence, one after the other, getting closer to her all the time. She wasn't quite sure why this was being done, but just like the increase in air pressure, she knew it wasn't good. However, it did give her an idea.

Watching the vents, she unclipped her cloak but hung on to it, braced for dear life with her free hand and both feet. The vents were still opening and closing, rapidly approaching her prone body. Wait … wait … now!

She let the cloak go and the howling gale caught it, bearing it back toward the vertical shaft. For a moment, just for a split second, it caught, trapping the air. At the same time the vent that was next to her opened; turning to shadow, she felt herself being blasted between the slats of the narrow vent. Her shadow form brushed against the electric motor that opened and closed it, and she felt a charge jolt through her.

She came to on hands and knees, feeling dizzy and sick. White tiles were all around her and the smell of industrial-strength disinfectant was strong in her nostrils. Bathroom. I'm in a bathroom. As her vision began to clear, she could make out the male urinals. Men's bathroom. Yay.

Over the PA system, she heard Armsmaster's voice talking about how this wasn't a drill and knew she had to get moving. She reached out to the nearest basin and pulled herself upright. Her head still spun, but it was getting better. Okay, where to from here?

It was as if her question had been answered by a revelation from on high. Right beside the door was an emergency evacuation plan, complete with a red dot to show where she was. And the infirmary is … there.

Flipping down her Tinker-tech lenses once more, she looked around. There were wires in the walls, but she could avoid them. Taking a deep breath, she went to shadow and dived through the wall, into another bathroom. Women's, this time. At least I'm in the right place.

Heavy boots sounded in the corridor outside. “In here! Spread out!” For a second, her heart was in her mouth until she realised that they'd kicked open the men's bathroom door. Still, that was way too close. And then the shout rang out, audible even through the drywall. “Not in here! Try next door!”

Shit, they're on to me. Her head had cleared somewhat, so she leaped upward, turning to shadow and slipping through the fragile plasterboard just as the door was kicked in. As the noisy search went on below her, she ghosted forward, unwilling to trust her weight on the ceiling panels. Until she encountered a large duct carrying far too many cables to get past. This ran, if she had things right, along the centre of the corridor outside the bathrooms.

Nothing for it. Dropping down into the corridor with her crossbows in hand, she prepared to go on the offensive. But the only PRT soldier in the hallway was standing outside the infirmary. For a long moment, neither one moved, then he deliberately turned his back on her.

Fucking yes. Something going right at last. She dived through the wall into the infirmary proper, going solid and rolling under the first bed before registering the fact that there was someone in it. Someone who definitely wasn't an adult.

What the fuck's a teenager doing in the PRT troopers' infirmary?

Going shadow once more, she slid out from under the bed and stood up. As she returned to solid form, she stared down at the inhabitant of the bed. She could only see a little hair, but that hair was black and curly. I know someone with hair like that. Suspicions began to unfold in her mind as she reached out for where the covers had been pulled all the way up.

That was when something hit the back of her head with a metallic clang.

<><>​

Danny Hebert

He was just wiping his face when the flicker of darkness caught the corner of his eye. Turning, he put his glasses on just in time to see the girl emerge from a cloud of darkness, right beside Taylor's bed. She wasn't wearing her cloak, which was what immediately threw him, but the crossbow hanging at her hip gave him the clue.

Shadow Stalker! And she's going after Taylor!

He didn't have time to think; the renegade Ward was even now reaching for the covers, to pull them down. Beside the basin, several bedpans were stacked on a bench. He grabbed the topmost one and threw it. Hampered by both the cramped circumstances and the odd nature of the projectile – he could honestly say that he'd never thrown a bedpan before – he couldn't muster all the power that he wanted, but his aim was satisfactory.

With a loud clang, the bedpan bounced off the back of Shadow Stalker's head, then clattered noisily on the floor. She staggered, lurching away from Taylor's bed, as Danny charged out of the bathroom like a bespectacled avenging angel. “Stay the hell away from her!” he shouted. Grabbing the costumed girl by the arm, he spun around and threw her at the far wall; she slammed into it with a loud thump and a grunt of forcibly expelled air.

She was tough, he had to admit that. Two good hits and she still wasn't down, though the impact with the wall had sent her to one knee. He moved forward to finish the job, but she raised her head. All of a sudden he was facing the business end of a crossbow.

“You!” Her voice sounded equally angry and surprised. “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?”

He fumbled for an answer, but before he could find one, the door opened. Fucking finally.

A teenage voice – Danny wasn't looking around to figure out who – yelled, “Hey, there she is!”

<><>​

Gallant

As Clockblocker darted around the corner, Dean was right on his heels, wishing his armour didn't slow him down quite so much. A moment later, he didn't have to worry quite so much, as Clockblocker slowed down anyway. Instead of the milling troops that Dean's ears had told him to expect, there was just one armoured trooper, standing guard in front of the infirmary door. His aura, although a little hard to read at this distance, showed a mixture of caution and wariness.

The thing was, while they couldn't see the PRT troopers, they could hear them. The cacophony of crashes and bangs was relatively close, but still out of sight.

“Okay,” muttered Clockblocker. “Where did they go?”

The question was answered almost immediately, as troops began emerging from two different bathrooms. Their auras were bright with excitement, tempered somewhat with frustration. Someone that Dean recognised as a sergeant began to bark orders, telling them to spread out and search the surrounding rooms.

“They haven't gotten her yet,” Dean said by reflex.

“Yeah, duh, got that one,” Clockblocker retorted. “I say we help search. We're her teammates, after all. If she'll surrender to anyone, it'll be us.”

Dean shook his head. “No.” He pointed at the trooper outside the infirmary. “We're supposed to go help that guy stand guard.”

“But we can help out -” Clockblocker began.

“We can help out by doing our jobs,” Dean pointed out. “Let's go.”

“Oh, man. You are such a buzzkill.” Clockblocker's aura radiated disappointment as they began to move forward. “I'm reporting you to the union.”

“We don't have a union.”

“I'll start a union, then complain to it. And you'll rue the day you crossed the Associated Wards, uh …” By Clockblocker's aura, he had given up on the argument and was just trying to be funny now.

“Yeah, we'll go with that.” Dean's voice was dry.

They came level with the closest troopers, who looked at them expectantly.

“Here to help?” asked one of the armoured men. “We can do with it.”

“Sorry,” Dean told him before Clockblocker could agree. “We've been told to guard the infirmary.”

“Damn. Oh, well.” The trooper stepped aside. Dean moved past him, followed by an obviously reluctant Clockblocker.

They approached the guard, who was showing an unusual amount of apprehension, growing by the moment. That's … odd. On reflex, he checked the man's ID tag. It said REED.

“Infirmary's clear,” Reed announced. “Checked it myself.” In direct contrast with his swirling emotions, his voice was confident and firm. If Dean hadn't been able to see his emotions directly, he would never have known they'd just been told a bare-faced lie. This guy can act.

“That's nice,” Dean said. “Please step aside. We've got orders to go in there.”

Clockblocker's head came up slightly, wariness colouring his aura. The phrase 'that's nice' was a prearranged signal; this person is not what he seems.

“I'm under orders not to let anyone in or out.”

Despite Reed's almost bored tone, Dean could see his apprehension spiking hard. Oh, yeah. He's definitely up to no good.

Then, in a lull, they heard from within the room a metallic clatter, followed by a yell then a thump. Though severely muffled by the door, the sounds were just audible enough to not be mistaken for anything else.

“Did you hear that?” asked Clockblocker.

“I'm going in there,” Dean said, reaching for the door handle. Look at me, look at me …

Reed's foam sprayer came up; his aura was going crazy. “I can't let you -”

He froze in mid-movement; Clockblocker took his hand away from the man's arm.

Dean wasted no time in opening the door.

Inside the infirmary, one bed was occupied. That person was asleep, their aura cycling through the fuzzy emotions of dreamstate. However, his attention was drawn by the other two people in the room, and a more disparate pair he could not imagine.

On the one side, not far from the occupied bed, was a tall gangly man wearing glasses and rumpled clothing. With his weak chin and balding head, he looked almost harmless. Except, of course, for the clenched fists and the palpable waves of rage that were rolling off him, all directed at the third person in the room. There was fear in there too, but the anger overrode it.

The third person was Shadow Stalker. Her cloak was missing, and she looked more than a little dishevelled herself. Shorter than her adversary by maybe a foot, she was compact and lithe, giving the impression of a jungle cat. A really pissed-off jungle cat. At that moment in time, she was just rising from a crouch, one of her crossbows trained on the tall skinny guy.

“Hey!” yelled Clockblocker. “There she is!”

Dean restrained the urge to face-palm, or at least helmet-palm, as Shadow Stalker's head whipped around to face them. Thank you, Captain Obvious. Even through the eyeholes of her mask, her glare should have been enough to bore holes through solid steel. If anything, her level of anger ramped up a few notches, but there was also an element of caution in there now. With a muttered curse, she broke for the window.

Shit, she's getting away. Hastily, Dean raised his hand and fired off an emotion bolt. Let's see how you deal with a guilty conscience. A flare of alarm told him that she'd seen it coming; just before the bolt struck, she went immaterial and leaped toward the thick glass. Dean's attack passed through her shadowy form but failed to stun her, splashing against the window and dissipating.

As for the emotional aspect of the bolt, Dean wasn't sure. He'd always had trouble reading her aura while she was in her Breaker state, so he didn't know if it had even had an effect on her. He didn't get a chance for a second shot; a moment later, she had passed through the window and was gliding away on the breeze.

No. She can't get away. Not now. “Clock, cover the civilians.” He moved as fast as he could toward the window, trying hard not to bowl the skinny guy over in the process. Belatedly, he added “'Scuse me.”

“'kay, I got this,” Clockblocker said from behind him. “You okay, folks? Want anything? First aid? Coffee? Tea? Dancing girls?”

He made it to the window as he pulled his phone out. Shadow Stalker was sort-of gliding over the street; it looked like she was making heavy weather of it in the absence of her cloak. Long practice let him hit the right buttons for speed dial.

“Yes?” Armsmaster's voice was a bark.

“Infirmary. Shadow Stalker just got past us and out the window.”

There was a moment of silence. “Damn. Are either of them hurt?”

“One second. I'll find out.” He raised his voice without taking his eyes off of Shadow Stalker's dim form. “Anyone hurt?”

“We're both fine,” the balding guy answered, sounding a little shaken. “Thanks. I think you got here just in time. Pretty sure she was gonna shoot me.”

“Apparently they're fine,” Dean relayed to Armsmaster. “I have eyes on Shadow Stalker. She just landed on the roof opposite. Heading north, it looks like, on Farley.”

“North on Farley,” repeated Armsmaster. “Roger.”

“Okay. I've …” He shaded his eyes against the reflection of the lights from within the room. “I've … lost sight of her, sorry.”

“Never mind that. How did she get into the infirmary?”

Dean grimaced, turning away from the window. “It was before we got here. I think the guard was in on it, somehow. Clockblocker froze him.”

There was another, longer, pause. “Damn. Okay, sit on him. Vet anyone who comes to get him.” It went without saying; Armsmaster had trusted Reed, after all.

“Will do.” The call ended, and he put the phone away.

“ … only uses tranquilliser arrows,” Clockblocker was saying. “Wait a minute. You were in the car, earlier. Petrowski gave us a lift.”

The skinny guy was still tense, but it was starting to drain away now. Relief and cautious hope welled up to replace it. “Yeah, I remember. I just didn't expect … I mean, what was that all about?” He gestured at the window. “Is she going to come back?”

Dean shook his head. “I doubt it very much.” He'd read as much from her aura. She'd wanted to be gone. There was something familiar about the guy himself, but that could wait.

“What's going on here?” asked a voice from the doorway. They all turned to look; it was the sergeant in charge of the squad. “Why is this man frozen?”

“He was acting oddly, then tried to prevent us from entering after we heard sounds of a fight from in here,” Dean reported crisply. “Clockblocker froze him. When we opened the door, this guy was facing off against Shadow Stalker. She went out the window before we could get to her.”

“So she got away?” The sergeant's mood shifted, then settled on unhappiness. “God, dammit. He said he'd checked.”

“Pretty sure he's in on it somehow,” Clockblocker said. “Not sure how Shadow Stalker ended up with a minion, though.”

“Oh, we'll be finding out.” The sergeant's voice, and his aura, held certainty. He turned to look at Reed, and spoke to the other soldiers crowding around. “Watch him. When he unfreezes, disarm and secure him. The brass is gonna want to have words with him.” He reached up to his lapel and spoke into a microphone. “Delta Squad, Sergeant Miller calling Armsmaster. Shadow Stalker has left the building … ah, you already know about it? And … hold the accomplice? Yes, sir. We're already on that, over.” As the sergeant spoke, Dean scanned the rest of the squad. Nobody's aura showed false colours. If anything, they showed anger and embarrassment, at one of their own being a traitor.

One of the troopers pulled the door shut. Dean looked at Clockblocker, then at the skinny guy. “Did you really go up against Shadow Stalker?”

The guy nodded wearily. I know him, Dean thought. He's with the Dockworkers or something. One of their higher ups.

“Yeah. I was in the bathroom, washing my face …”

<><>​

Shadow Stalker

Sophia barely made it to the rooftop of the building across the street. When she returned to normal, she staggered, weakness washing through her body. Worse, her mind was assaulted with conflicting emotions. Part of her was elated that she had escaped, while another part was adamant that she should return to face the music. I should go back and give myself up, she told herself. Tell them everything I've done. It's the only right … only right …

Yanking her mask off, she hauled off and slapped herself, hard. Her ears rang, but at least her head was more clear now. “God, dammit,” she said out loud. “Stop being such a whiny little bitch. That's not me. That's Gallant's blast. The fuckin' asshole.”

A deep breath of the night air served to help clear her head some more, and she put the mask back on. Moment by moment, the weakness was fading, as were the unfamiliar emotions. She could feel her old attitudes re-asserting themselves, and she welcomed it. I don't feel guilty. I've got nothing to feel guilty for. Every single one of the assholes had it coming. Especially Hebert.

Something tickled her memory at that point. Something about the guy in the infirmary, and the colour of the hair on the pillow, and a photo on her phone …

An unfamiliar ringtone emerged from her belt pouch, initially confusing her. Then she belatedly recalled the burner phone, and the orders to call Calvert back. Oh, shit. I forgot.

Reaching up, she tapped on the bluetooth headset. “I'm here,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

“Good.” His voice was cool. “Corner of West and Farley. There'll be a white van. Get into it.”

“West and Farley, white van, got it.” She turned, getting her bearings. Okay, West and Farley is two blocks that way. I need to get moving, they'll be moblising soon to chase me down.

As if to underline that thought, a blurred form streaked across the street, zipped up the front steps to the PRT building, and disappeared inside. Oh, shit. That's Velocity. The rest of the Protectorate won't be far behind.

She started across the rooftops, keeping to cover where she could. If I can get to West and Farley before they catch up …

“Shadow Stalker!” It was Aegis' voice, coming from above and behind her.

I had to fucking jinx it. She glanced around, seeing the red-costumed Ward swooping down toward her. “Fuck off!” she yelled. If he's in on it, then he has to know that I need to escape, here. He didn't seem to be taking the hint. Turning, she aimed both crossbows at him. “Back off. I will fucking shoot you.”

He slowed to a hover, about ten feet away, but shook his head almost pityingly. “Your tranquillisers won't hurt me. I'll adapt -”

She pulled the triggers on both bows at the same time. He didn't even try to dodge; the arrows struck centre mass, delivering the chemical payloads directly into whatever he used for a bloodstream. Not waiting to see how it went, she turned and ghosted across to the next building. At the same time, she was reloading the crossbows with two of her meagre stash of lethal arrows.

By the time she got there, he was hovering in front of her, holding both used-up tranquilliser arrows in one hand. His costume had two small holes in it, but he didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest. “Seriously. Give it up. Come on back. You're just making it worse for yourself.”

Go through the roof? She wasted half a second on looking downward. No. Too many wires. Fuck. Plan B, then.

She growled, deep in her throat, and charged at him. He dropped the arrows and held his hands out, ready to take hold of her. At the last moment, she went to shadow and billowed around him. As his hands grabbed at nothing, she continued onward, to put an air-conditioning unit between them, at which point she reformed once more. With her back pressed to the unit, she held her breath, hung one crossbow on her belt, and grasped its arrow in her hand.

“Shadow Stalker, I can do this all day. You wanna play hide and seek, I can play hide and seek.” His voice was still calm. “You can't get away.” Leaning around the unit, he reached for her. “Boo.”

She swung the arrow around to strike at him. The razor-edged tip punched through his wrist and nailed it to the a/c unit. Then she kicked away from the unit, going ghostly as his other hand flailed toward her. Waiting until he reached to pull the arrow out, she triggered the crossbow; a second razor-tipped arrow slammed into his free hand, nailing it to the unit as well.

“Wait – what the – Shadow Stalker, what the fuck?” The shock and surprise in his voice were music to her ears. But she didn't hang around to gloat; he'd pull himself free sooner rather than later. In that time, she had to be gone.

<><>​

Thomas Calvert

“Attention. We are no longer under lockdown. Personnel may now move freely about the building. Thank you.”

It wasn't Armsmaster's voice, which indicated that Armsmaster was busy. Shadow Stalker had gotten away, which meant that there was only incidental fallout to deal with. Reed had not yet called back with an update, which meant that he was either busy or in custody. The latter definitely counted as 'incidental fallout'.

He accessed a very customised app on his phone; this gave him specific access to a certain number of modified handsets. Selecting Reed's, he activated the camera function. An image swam on to his screen, then sharpened.

“Shit,” he muttered. He'd know Armsmaster's helmet anywhere. A gauntleted hand, made enormous by proximity, loomed on his screen. He saw the camera come on!

Moving with frantic haste, he tapped the button at the bottom of the screen marked 'DESTRUCT'. A second prompt came up. ARE YOU SURE?, with a YES/NO option underneath it. He couldn't tap YES fast enough, almost bruising the tip of his finger. The picture winked out.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he sagged back in his chair. Then he forced himself to sit upright once more. Time to cover my tracks.

A random-seeming command entered into his computer, followed by a mouse-click on a seemingly innocuous part of the screen, opened a window which really should not have been accessible to him. He accessed the server logs of the calls that Reed and Shadow Stalker had made to his desk phone, then entered the command to delete them; in seconds, they were electronic confetti. Then he closed that window and called up the spreadsheet he'd been working on before this all started.

Next, he pulled the back off of his cell-phone and prised out the SIM card. Taking out his wallet, he removed a small foil packet from an unobtrusive compartment. This contained a SIM card of the same type as the one he had removed from the phone, but bearing a different serial number. Swapping them around was the work of a moment; he tucked away the foil packet once more and snapped his phone closed.

Then he let himself relax.

It really was not easy staying ahead of the forces of law and order sometimes. However, this time he simply had not been able to resist. The chance to recruit a disgraced Ward did not come up every day, after all.

Leaning back in his chair, he mulled over the events from the timeline where he had not contacted Shadow Stalker. There had been no lockdown or other alarm, which told him that she had been taken into custody without any particular fuss. She would no doubt be interrogated at length. I wonder if I could sneak a peek at the transcripts …


End of Part Seven