Recoil (a Worm fanfic)

[Ack]

Recoil

Part 9-2: Averting Yet Another Disaster

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: I actually wrote the basis for this chapter back in 2020, whee.]​

Friday Night, August 18, 2000
Brockton Bay, the Lavere Residence

Lady Photon

"Let's call the PRT," Neil said. "We should get Marquis into custody, stat."

"Wouldn't mind some medical treatment, if you could rush that?" Marquis asked.

"… and medical treatment," Neil amended his statement.

Mark turned his head. "Does anyone else hear that?"

Carol nodded. "I hear it too. A helicopter."

Sarah turned back to Marquis. "If these are reinforcements, then they're late to the party," she warned him. "You'd do well to tell them to stand down and surrender."

He looked back at her with what she judged to be honest puzzlement. "I called no reinforcements, dear lady," he informed her. "Whoever they are, they aren't mine."

"I'll go see." Neil headed for the door. Over his shoulder, he added, "Keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't try anything."

"I believe the time for that is long past," Marquis observed dryly, but Neil was already gone.

-ooo-​

Manpower

Neil shaded his eyes as he moved out on to the portico. Floodlights illuminated the rear of the house, glinting off the rotor disk of the helicopter that was just coming in for a neat landing on the lawn. There was plenty of room for it; there would've been adequate space for a 747 to perform an emergency landing, so long as the pilot didn't mind not being able to take off again.

And then the chopper turned, landing lights glaring, and Neil saw the PRT logo emblazoned on the side of the aircraft. He frowned. "What the hell?"

-ooo-​

Captain Taylor Snow, PRT Intelligence

I stepped down out of the helicopter while the rotors were still turning. Sergeant Kinsey followed me; the pilot and copilot stayed in the craft, as per orders. Four PRT troopers climbed out after Kinsey. One carried a medical kit.

Kinsey gestured forward, and the troopers double-timed it toward the house. Moving more sedately, Kinsey and I followed after. My long coat flared as I walked; it wasn't something that I precisely needed, but I appreciated the image.

"Big place," I observed, looking around at the palatial manor, the expansive lawns, the carefully trimmed hedges, all lit up by the floodlights. "Wouldn't want his electricity bill."

"Yes, ma'am," agreed Kinsey. "Though I suspect that's not his biggest concern, right now."

A huge figure, at least seven feet tall, strode down from the house. He eyed the troopers as they passed him by, then turned his attention to us.

"Manpower," I greeted him as we came within earshot.

He nodded. "You got here fast," he noted. "We didn't even have time to call it in." There was a suspicious tone to his voice.

"Captain Snow," I informed him, holding my ID card so he could see it. "PRT Intelligence. We get word before everyone else. It's kind of our thing."

"Well, good thing you got here so soon," he acknowledged, offering his hand; I shook it. His hand more or less engulfed mine. "We have injured, not critical. Marquis is also hurt."

I nodded toward the house, where the troopers were disappearing inside. "I figured that might be the case, thus the medic. But you do have him in custody?"

"We do," he agreed. "But there's a complication."

"The girl," I stated.

We had walked past him, and he had turned to walk alongside us; my words caused his head to whip around in surprise. "How the hell did you know about that?"

I smiled slightly as I tucked my ID card away. "Perhaps you missed what I said about PRT Intelligence. We know these things. We weren't acting on it, but we knew it."

"Oh." He blinked. "Are you the same Captain Snow who …" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

I tilted my head to acknowledge the unspoken part of his query. "It's entirely possible. I don't know of any other captains with my name in Intelligence."

We climbed the steps, crossed the portico and entered the house. The main hall was huge, with marble pillars; I could have fitted my parents' old house in Brockton Bay into it with ease. A trooper straightened up from marking a tripwire with spray-paint, caught my eye, and gestured to a doorway. We turned our steps that way.

Within the room, the trooper with the medical kit was treating Marquis for a wound in his shoulder, while the other two troopers kept their guns trained on the villain. Flashbang reclined on an expensive-looking armchair while Brandish attended to his foot. Fleur was tending to Lightstar's injuries. Lady Photon was kneeling by the open closet, talking softly to whoever was within.

Marquis looked up as we entered. "My goodness," he observed. "The PRT is rather quick off the mark, these days." And then our eyes met; I saw the jolt of recognition in his expression. "As I live and breathe. Captain Snow. We meet again."

I smiled tightly. "Mr Lavere. I seem to recall telling you the first time we met, that at some point I would be placing you under arrest. Now is that time."

"Not an unexpected sentiment," he admitted. He managed to bow courteously while seated and under guard, a not inconsiderable feat. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet Captain Taylor Snow, the only person to have ever bested me in fair combat. I am honoured to be arrested by you, my dear."

"What?" asked Brandish. "When did you ever meet him before? And why didn't you arrest him then?"

"The last time we spoke, I had other matters on my plate," I told her. "Don't bother asking; they're classified. But when I got the tip-off, I decided that this was as good a time as any to close that deal."

Flashbang, his face lined with pain, raised his head. "Don't take him in a helicopter," he gritted. "He's tricky in close quarters."

I shook my head. "That's not my intention. My men will remain here for the duration. More troops are on the way. They'll secure him for transport and take him where he needs to go."

Marquis frowned. "Then why are you here?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You're not an unintelligent man. You do recall the last conversation we had, do you not?"

It only took him a moment. "Oh. Really? You're actually going through with that, then?"

"You have no objection?" I asked in return.

"Far from it," he replied, looking a shade more cheerful than he had a moment ago. "Prison holds no terrors for me. I worry for what might happen when I am not here to stop it. But if you are proposing to handle that particular problem for me …"

"For God's sake, what are you two talking about?" burst out Brandish.

"This," I told her; stepping around Marquis, I went toward the closet. "Excuse me?" I murmured to Lady Photon. She looked up at me, a little startled, and stood, moving back from the open doorway.

Within the closet was a little girl with a familiar face, older than the last time I'd seen her, though not yet as mature as I had once known her. Still familiar, all the same. She wore a lacy night-gown and clutched a pillow to herself.

I crouched to bring myself down to her level. "Hi, Amelia," I told her softly. "My name's Taylor. Do you remember me? We met a couple of years ago. I'm here to take care of you."

She renewed her grip on the pillow and stared back at me, eyes wide.

From behind me, Marquis spoke. "Amelia, darling? Captain Snow is a friend. Go with her. Be a good girl. Do what she says. She'll keep you safe."

"Excuse me?" This was Brandish again. "What does a PRT captain know about caring for a child? Do you even have children, Captain Snow?"

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. Typical. She didn't want to take care of Amelia, but when Marquis chooses someone else to take her, she has to find something to disagree with.

I half-turned my head. "More to the point, Brandish, if we can craft an identity that will stand up to the most strenuous of background checks, we can take a child and hide her so that no-one will locate her. Because you do know that's Amelia's biggest concern, right now. We don't want any of Marquis' old enemies finding her, now or in the future."

Giving my attention to Amelia again, I extended my hand. "I'll make sure your daddy gets to talk to you every chance he gets," I promised her. "Now, he has to go away, but I'm here to make sure that you never, ever forget him."

"... Daddy?" she ventured.

Marquis sighed. "Amelia, go with the nice lady. She'll take care of you." He paused, then added, "Captain Snow, do I have your word that you won't try to exploit Amelia's gifts, whatever they turn out to be, for the PRT? That you'll keep her safe?"

I angled my head so that he could see my face. "You have my solemn promise."

He nodded, then. "And that I know I can trust. Take her. Take care of her. And thank you for being here."

Turning back to the closet, I looked at the little girl. Just six years old. Wow.

"Amelia?"

She stared back at me. "I want to be with my Daddy," she whimpered.

I deliberately softened my features. "I know, sweetie. But how would you like to go for a ride on a helicopter?"

"With Daddy?"

"Daddy has to go with some different people. But you can ask him if it's okay to go with me in the helicopter. Will that be okay?"

Her head bobbed.

I looked over my shoulder at Kinsey, who dropped a blanket over Marquis' bound hands to hide them from view. Satisfied we'd done what we could, I turned back and held my hand out to her. "Come on. Careful," I added, when she stumbled from having been in hiding so long.

Her head turned as she came out, searching for her father.

"Over here, Amelia."

Her head snapped to him. "Daddy!"

I caught her shoulders. "Daddy's hurt at the moment, sweetie. You'll have to be gentle."

Her head bobbed again and she moved closer, this time more cautiously. "Daddy?"

Marquis leaned forward, and Amelia dropped her pillow to wrap both arms around his neck. "Hey, princess," he crooned, rubbing his cheek against her head. "I need you to be very brave for me right now, okay?"

Amelia's lips tightened, but she didn't fight him.

"I want you to go with Captain Snow."

Amelia reared back, her eyes wide.

"No, Amelia. This is important. I want you to go with Captain Snow. She'll look after you until we're together again, okay?"

Amelia looked up at me, and I did everything I could to appear as friendly as she needed me to be.

"Okay," she finally said. She gave her father another hug. "Love you."

"Love you more," he replied, then kissed her hair.

I knew which of the two right then was being strong. I wasn't one for tears, but watching Marquis say goodbye to his daughter was heartbreaking. "Be a good girl for Daddy."

"I will."

He kissed her again, then looked at me over her head and nodded.

I came forward and picked up her pillow. "Come along, Amelia."

"Be strong, princess," Marquis reminded her.

Amelia walked backwards, watching her father until we left the room. Then I slipped my hands under her arms and lifted her onto my hip, holding her face close to my shoulder in case she started to cry.

The tears would come sooner or later.

Kinsey climbed into the helicopter ahead of me and helped us inside. After settling Amelia into a seat between Kinsey and myself, I gestured for the pilot to spool the rotors up.

-ooo-​

Brandish

Carol watched the helicopter lift off the lawn in a turning arc. Soon, all she could see of it were the navigational lights, blinking in the night sky as it headed toward Brockton Bay proper.

"We dodged a bit of a bullet there, I think." The voice came from behind her: Neil.

She turned toward him. "I don't know. Do we really trust the PRT to take proper care of her? Of the child of a supervillain?"

His chuckle was warm. "Carol, you don't seriously think that she'd share any of his tendencies, if she were brought up properly?"

She shook her head stubbornly. "I just don't … I don't know."

"Hm." He moved, leaned against a column. "Not sure if we could have taken her anyway."

She stared up at her brother-in-law. "But Sarah loves kids!"

He nodded. "Sure. But with Eric and Crystal, money's a little tight. I'm having trouble finding work." He smiled wryly, self-deprecatingly. "Seems that not many people want to hire a seven-foot-tall man."

The implication was obvious. "That means Mark and I would have had to take her."

He shrugged. "I'm sure Vicky would have loved to have a sister."

She was silent, imagining taking home a stranger to be her daughter (a supervillain's daughter) to raise as her own (not really my child), to love and to cherish (I could never love someone like that).

"Carol?" His voice jolted her out of her reverie. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I think it might have turned out for the best, after all."

"Good." His huge hand clasped her shoulder momentarily. "I think so too."

Turning, they both went back into Marquis' house.

-ooo-​

Taylor Snow

In the helicopter, Amelia looked around at everything, wide-eyed, and didn't let go of my hand at all. Kinsey got up and moved forward to the cockpit once we were in the air and returned with a spare headset.

"Child on the air," I notified the aircrew through my own headset, then indicated to Amelia that she should put it on. Once she started hearing the radio chatter, she grew even more wide-eyed, listening to everything that was said.

I was familiar with the jargon, of course. But to Amelia, it must have been like going for a ride in an alien spacecraft, for all the sense she could make of things.

We came in for a landing on the helipad on the roof of the PRT building. Kinsey took the headsets back to the cockpit, while I gathered up Amelia and her pillow then climbed down out of the aircraft.

The elevator took us down one floor, and I conveyed Amelia to a door I remembered well. I had been here before, of course, but that had been in my previous life. This version of the building was still brand new. A guard saluted and opened the door; I nodded instead of returning it, as my arms were still occupied by Amelia. She was still looking around with bright interest, but it was getting to be rather late at night and I didn't want to make her walk too far.

Director Jameson was a large, bluff man with fading reddish hair. I'd heard he'd brought a cowboy attitude to the job, and in fact there was a ten-gallon Stetson hanging on a hat-rack. He came to his feet as I entered.

"Captain Snow," he greeted me. "Right pleased to meet you at last. Rankine's said some mighty nice things about you."

I nodded in return. "Thank you, Director," I told him. "I do my best."

Jameson smiled. "Your best is dam—uh, darn good, from what I've been told. What can I do for you, and who's the kid?"

"She's Marquis' daughter, sir," I told him bluntly. "He was defeated and captured by the Brigade, earlier tonight. I've removed her from the situation to make sure things don't go badly for her. I'm looking to place her with associates of mine, to keep her safe. What I'd like is a day or so of leave, to make sure she's settled in properly."

"Sure thing," he agreed. "I'll tell Renick to put a note in your file. When you're done here, you'll be heading back to Chicago?"

"That's the plan, sir," I agreed.

He grimaced. "Pity you can't hang around. The way I hear it, you're hell on wheels on the Intelligence side of things; I'd hoped you could liaise with our folks a mite before you went."

I tilted my head. "I'll tell you what, sir. Whatever files you'd like me to look over, have your people put them together, and I'll give them my attention tomorrow."

He brightened considerably. "Excellent. I'll have that done."

"Not a problem, sir." I hitched Amelia slightly in my arms. She'd just yawned and tried to hide it, but not overly successfully. "Now, if it's all right, I have a tired little girl here, who needs to get to bed …?"

"Not a problem," he agreed. "Been a real pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain."

"Likewise, Director," I told him; Kinsey opened the door, and we left.

-ooo-​

Down again in the elevator we went, all the way to the parking garage. They had not yet installed the Tinker-tech elevator cars, which I found slightly disappointing, but it was still early days for the PRT in Brockton Bay.

Kinsey had the keys to the vehicle we were to be using, which happened to be a Suburban 4×4. He unlocked the doors, and we got in; by this time, Amelia was yawning quite conspicuously. I sat in the back with the child, while Kinsey drove the vehicle. Amelia snuggled up against me and dozed; I stroked her hair and had Kinsey put on soft music so as to soothe her.

The Amy Dallon I had known in Brockton Bay had been harsh, full of self-loathing and unable to tell between friend and foe, to the point of mistrusting her own judgement. Lisa had filled me in on how her choices, and the choices others had made for her, had ruined her life. Conflicting needs and desires, and a home life devoid of real love except from her sister Vicky, had given her more issues than a used-book store.

I would give this version of her a good life, I vowed. Amelia would grow up happy, and healthy, and loved.

-ooo-​

During the drive, I removed the rank insignia from my long coat and put them in my pocket, so that when I buttoned it up, there was nothing to say that the lady in the coat was an officer in the PRT.

"Kinsey, pull over. I'll walk from here."

He looked back at me, then around at the surrounding buildings. "Ma'am?"

I gave him a brief smile. "I'll be fine. Report back to the PRT building. I'll call for you in the morning."

He nodded, clearly unaware of my plans but just as ready to trust that I knew what I was doing. "Yes, ma'am."

I climbed out, bringing Amelia and her pillow with me. She mumbled something sleepily, then snuggled down in my arms, clutching the pillow. I bumped the door shut with my hip, and watched the Suburban pull away.

When it was out of sight, I turned on my heel and walked back around the corner. Halfway down the block was the entrance to Andrea's building. Inside, the reception desk was manned by a bored-looking security guard. As I entered, he looked me up and down, with a raised eyebrow for my burden.

"Can I help you?" he asked lackadaisically.

"Yes, you can," I told him crisply. "Codeword Weaver."

The bored façade left him, and he sat up straight. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" he responded with far more alacrity. "You know how to get to the penthouse?"

"I do." Moving past the desk, I freed one hand to take out the card Andrea had given me. There was a discreet reader, which I swiped with the card before pressing the elevator call button. After a remarkably short interval, the doors opened and I stepped inside.

Once they'd closed behind me, I tapped the featureless black glass panel with the card. This caused the floor buttons to light up all the way up to the penthouse level. I pressed that one, and the elevator began to rise.

-ooo-​

By the time we got to the top, Amelia was asleep in my arms again. She'd had a long and trying day already, so I wasn't exactly blaming her. The doors rumbled open, and I stepped out into the small foyer.

Andrea was already there, waiting for me. This was no surprise; 'Weaver' mandated that the guard (one of Andrea's mercenaries) inform her of my presence then delete my entry from the security cameras. He would also deny the fact of my existence to anyone who asked him about me.

In deference to Amelia, she wore a long T-shirt and sweatpants instead of her usual night wear, which was a good bit briefer.

"Oh, good, you made it." She gave me a beaming smile that also took in our guest.

"I made it," I agreed. "Marquis is in custody, and now we get to be godparents."

"That's the plan," she agreed. She held the door open for me, allowing me to walk through into the main living room area.

It was as vast and well-furnished as ever; the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a stunning view of the Brockton Bay night-time skyline, the wall-sized TV was playing something soft and gentle, and she'd gotten in new colourful hangings for the other walls. "Nice," I observed.

"I like to think so." She smiled and led the way up the quarter-spiral staircase to the wide corridor leading down to the main bedroom. Four doors let off to the left, and four to the right.

"Which one's hers?" I asked. We had, of course, prepared ahead of time. She had bedclothes in colours that she liked, clothing of her size in the built-in closet and drawers, and there was even a copy of her favourite bedtime storybook on the bedside table. The trouble was, I hadn't been here for that.

"This one here." Andrea opened the door and stood aside for me as I entered. She grabbed my ass on the way past, but that was only to be expected. As we'd agreed all the way back in college, she had a daily quota as my girlfriend, and she hadn't seen me in quite some time.

Amelia murmured something unintelligible as I carefully laid her on the bed then pulled the covers over her, but she didn't wake up. Andrea, her hands moving as skilfully as any cardsharp, replaced the existing pillow with her frilly one, and she snuggled into it. I gave Amelia a kiss on the forehead, then stood up with the feeling of a job well done. "Okay, then," I whispered, turning toward the door.

"Whoa, girl." Andrea was between me and the door, hands up in a 'stop' motion. "Where do you think you're going?" In deference to our new guest, she kept her voice to a soft murmur.

"Um … shower and bed?" I wasn't sure what she was referring to. "With you?" Why she seemed to be against this, I had no idea.

"Guess again." From her expression, she hated what she was saying but had to say it anyway. "When she wakes up—and she is gonna wake up before the rest of us—she'll be in a totally strange place with nobody there that she knows. So you are gonna be right there with her, to calm her down and get her back to sleep."

I turned my head to eye the bed. It was a regular-sized model, intended for the children to grow into them as needed, but it was still going to be cramped for me and Amelia together. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely certain." She hooked her head sideways. "Rachel had nightmares for the first week unless I was right there to hold her. Amelia is going to have abandonment issues if we half-ass this right now. So you can wait here while I get your pjs, just in case she wakes up in the next five minutes."

"What, I don't even get a shower?"

Andrea's expression was remarkably unsympathetic, for her. "You're a rough, tough PRT officer. You'll manage."

Lisa must be loving this. "Okay, fine. You're the boss."

That got a giggle from her. "Darn tootin'." She leaned in for a quick kiss, then ducked out of the bedroom. I sighed, then started getting undressed by the soft glow of the night-light. This had to be serious, I knew, for Andrea to turn down together time with me.

She returned as I was stepping out of my underwear, waited until I was dressed in the pyjamas, and held the covers while I climbed into bed with Amelia. The girl never woke, but she mumbled something and snuggled up to me. As I held her protectively to me, I felt warmth spreading through my chest in a way that I'd never experienced before.

"Yeah," murmured Andrea, watching my face. "It's like that."

I didn't answer in words, but I didn't have to.

Leaning over, Andrea gave Amelia a kiss on the cheek and me one on the lips. "Night, mommy Taylor," she whispered with a mischievous giggle, then slipped out through the bedroom door.

The ensuite door was open, I noted, and the night-light was just bright enough to guide Amelia if she needed the facilities on awakening. Or me, for that matter.

It took me a while to fall asleep, but I held Amelia the whole time.

-ooo-​

Oh-Dark-Thirty

Amelia Claire Lavere

It took a little bit for Amelia to wake up properly, but when she did, she sat up in bed with a gasp. This wasn't her bed, or her room. And there was a lady in her bed.

Then she looked again, as the lady stirred and woke up, and realised that it was Captain Snow. She remembered her daddy telling her 'I want you to go with Captain Snow. She'll look after you until we're together again'. Captain Snow had held her, carried her on and off the helicopter, and given her someone to hold on to through all the strange things.

Daddy trusted Captain Snow, so she would too.

"Hey, Amy," murmured Captain Snow, getting up on to her elbow. "You okay?"

Amelia giggled. "My name's Amelia, silly, not Amy."

"Sorry, Amelia. And my name's Taylor. How are you feeling?"

"But Daddy called you Captain Snow." Amelia was confused now.

"That's my name." The lady nodded. "Taylor Snow. Captain is my rank." Reaching up, she booped Amelia on the nose. "And since you're not PRT, you can call me Taylor if you want. None of them are allowed to do that."

"Oh." That was kind of cool, but there were more important things on her mind. She pointed at the open door she could see, with a toilet inside. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Go right ahead. Do you need help?"

Amelia pushed her jaw out. "Daddy says I'm a big girl now. He says big girls can go to the bathroom on their own."

"And they totally can." Captain Snow—Taylor—swung her legs over the side of the bed. "I'll be right out here if you need anything."

"Okay." Amelia slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom.

As she closed the door behind her, the lights came on without even needing a switch, and brightened slowly enough so her eyes didn't hurt. She looked around and saw a tub with a shower, and a wash basin, and a toilet. That was what she wanted.

-ooo-​

Taylor

It didn't take too long before the toilet flushed, then I heard water running in the washbasin. Good girl. Marquis, it seemed, had made sure that his daughter knew proper hygiene. One less thing for Andrea to take care of.

When she emerged, wiping her hands on her nightgown, I was still sitting on the side of the bed. "Do you want me to go?" I asked softly. "Let you have the bed to yourself?"

"But where will you sleep?" she asked.

"Oh, I've got a bed." Andrea, I knew for a fact, would be thrilled to wake up next to me.

She hesitated for a long moment. "Can you stay?" There were things she could've said—it's dark, it's lonely, I'm scared to be alone in a strange place—but she didn't need to.

"Sure." I lay down again, scooting my legs back under the covers. Amelia climbed in next to me and snuggled up like she'd been doing it all her life. I pulled the covers up over both of us then settled down. "Comfy?"

"Yeah." She paused for a moment. "Thank you. For staying."

"You're welcome, Amelia." And I meant it. Up until that evening, I'd never experienced any particularly maternal impulses. I'd had people depend on me for their lives before, but never so young a child. However, now I was starting to get an idea of why Andrea was enjoying motherhood so much. There was a difference, there.

I was still digesting this as I slid back into sleep.

-ooo-​

The Next Morning

Andrea Campbell

"Good morning, all!"

The greeting cut over the sound of the Saturday morning cartoons that Andrea was watching with Alec, Dragon, and Rachel. Andrea muted the wall TV and looked around to see Taylor standing at the top of the quarter-spiral staircase with Amelia beside her. The kid looked a lot more rested now, and was wearing one of the outfits Andrea had had so much fun buying for her; a set of denim overalls over a pink T-shirt, and a matching pink hairband in her frizzy hair.

"Aun'Taylor!" Alec and Rachel bounced off the sofa, Alec taking more time because he had to carefully set his bowl of cereal down on the side-table first. Rachel's bowl of cookie dough was far less likely to spill, so she abandoned it in her rush.

"Captain Snow!" Dragon was less precipitate in her rush, but she still got up and went to greet Taylor. "When did you get in? We waited up for you."

"Pretty late," Taylor admitted. "It's good to see you kids." She gestured down at Amelia, who was half-hiding behind her leg. "This is Amelia. She's going to be living here with you, so be nice, okay?"

"Oh, wow, like our sister?" Rachel slowed in her rush up the stairs. "That's so neat!"

"Only if you're okay with it, and she's okay with it." Taylor crouched down alongside Amelia. "That's Rachel, and that's Alec, and that's Dragon, and the pretty lady with the red hair is Andrea." I pointed each of them out in turn. "I don't know if you remember, but you met us both a few years ago. She's a really good friend of mine, so when I'm not here, she'll be taking care of you."

"Yeah, mommy Andrea's the bestest mommy in the whole world," Alec announced. "Aun'Taylor's really nice, too." He took his cue from Rachel, and slowed down so he wouldn't frighten Amelia. "Hi, Amelia. I like your hair. It's pretty."

"Okay, back off a little," Dragon suggested. "She's only just met you."

Taylor nodded in agreement. "So, Amelia; what do you say to breakfast? I'm starving, myself."

Amelia took her hand. "Yes, please."

-ooo-​

Taylor

We reconvened on the sofa; I had toast, a muffin and a glass of orange juice. Alec went back to his cereal and Rachel to her cookie dough. Dragon didn't need to eat, of course, but she nibbled on toast for the sake of appearances. Andrea had a muffin of her own, and we'd set Amelia up with a bowl of cereal with cream and blueberries.

We'd joked around enough while making breakfast for our newest family member that Amelia was relaxed as she sat down next to Andrea. "Your hair is really red," she said, apropos of nothing.

"Yeah, I know," Andrea agreed with a grin. "Wanna touch it?"

"Uh huh." Shyly reaching out, Amelia ran her hand over Andrea's riot of flaming-red curls. "It's pretty."

"You're pretty," Rachel said from where she was sitting on the floor at Andrea's feet, leaning up against her legs. "Your freckles are nice."

I turned to Dragon and lowered my voice as the conversation took hold. "I thought you usually spent the weekend at your dad's place?"

Dragon shrugged. "I told him that I wanted to meet Amelia, so he said I could stay over for Saturday. The cartoons are fun."

"They usually are," I agreed. "How are things going with you and him, anyway?"

"He doesn't usually confide in me about my progress," she reminded me. "I suspect he thinks it might compromise the integrity of the results. But … rather well, I think."

"Good to hear." I put my arm around her shoulders and gave her a side-hug. "Really. I mean it. This is amazing. I am so glad you're doing well."

She smiled and ducked her head. "You and Mom make good role models."

I had to chuckle at that. "I know more than a few people who might've argued that point when we were back in college, but I had your dad place you with her for a reason. You just keep it up, kid, and you'll go far."

"Do you all live here?" Amelia asked as the cartoons came to an end.

"They do." I gestured around at everyone else. "I tend to travel around a bit, and visit every now and again. Andrea's the one who stays home and takes care of everyone." She did a whole lot more than that, but this was the extent of what I was willing to tell them until I judged they were old enough to know more.

Amelia took a moment to process that. "Will I be going with you when you go?"

I wasn't sure if she wanted the answer to be yes or no, but I had to be honest with her. "Sorry, no. I have to go back to the PRT. But you'll be staying here with Andrea and everyone else. Is that okay?"

She took far too long to answer. While she was still thinking about it, Andrea put an arm around her and hugged her. That broke the deadlock; she leaned into the hug. "Yeah, I guess."

"Oh, have you seen the balcony yet?" Rachel jumped to her feet. "Mommy Andrea, can we show her the balcony?"

"Balcony! Balcony!" Alec chanted the word with glee.

Amelia frowned. "Daddy's house has a balcony." But she got up anyway; Andrea claimed her empty bowl on the way past, and put it on the side table.

"Not like this. Come see." Rachel was as proud as if she'd not only invented the concept herself but personally constructed it into the bargain.

Alec and Rachel led Amelia out onto the enclosed balcony. It was floored, I knew, with roughened marble and it was surrounded with floor to ceiling Perspex, so they had a great view of the skyline in all directions, with nothing to impede it.

I didn't go out there, but I did get up and take a few steps toward the balcony door. Andrea took her place beside me, and slid her arm around my waist. "Since when was that totally enclosed?" I asked in an undertone. I seemed to recall a four-foot-high rail.

"Since I caught Alec dragging a chair out there," she replied, just as quietly. "Don't ask." She paused. "Sleep well?"

On the balcony, Rachel was pointing out landmarks and Amelia was expressing amazement at how high we were, and smooshing her face against the Perspex to look down at the street.

"Really good, actually." I put my arm around her as well. "I think she might need company, the next few nights, until she gets used to it."

"Well, duh." She gave me a squeeze. "Rachel had night terrors for a while, so I let her sleep with me until she settled down. Alec never had them, but he's climbed into the bed a few times anyway. There's enough room for them all."

"She'll probably expect bedtime stories," I reminded her.

I caught her eye-roll out of the corner of my vision. "Which means everyone will want them. Rachel's an opportunistic little mooch, and Alec's not far behind her."

"And where do you think they get that from?" I didn't even try to hide my grin.

"Well, me, duh." This time, she tossed her hair with an answering grin. "I'll totally read them all the bedtime stories they want. Though they're progressing really well with reading on their own, so they'll probably graduate to taking a book to bed in time."

I chuckled. "Yeah, they probably get that from me. I did that myself when I was a kid. Ran the flashlight dead flat more than once. Dad wasn't happy."

Andrea raised a finger. "Pretty sure that's not how it works."

"Who's to know?" I was about to make another quip, then I caught sight of the time. "Ah; probably a good idea if I got dressed and headed out. Kinsey will be wondering where I am."

This time, she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Jeez, tell Jim about this place already. Wow."

I took my arm from around her so I could hold up both hands defensively. "When it's time."

"Right, sure." She raised her voice. "Okay, kids, Taylor's about to head out, so come on in and say goodbye."

Dragon came over first and gave me a hug, then stepped aside for the others. I went down on one knee and hugged them all at once; Amelia was hesitant at first, then joined in when she saw how much effort Rachel and Alec were putting into it. "You'll be okay with Andrea?" I asked, watching her expression.

She nodded much more readily, this time. "Yeah. She's nice. But you'll come back?"

Reaching out with my fingertip, I booped her nose; she giggled. "Totally. Count on it."

"So why you gotta go?" asked Alec. "You just got here."

Rachel did an amazingly good impression of Andrea, including a put-upon sigh. "Because she has to go do boring job stuff, probably."

I grinned and gave her a thumb's up. "Got it in one."

-ooo-​

Half an Hour Later

PRT Building, ENE

Director Jameson frowned in my general direction. It was easy to tell that he wasn't thrilled with what I'd just told him. However, I wasn't particularly worried about his lack of happiness.

"What do you mean, you're not going to tell me where Marquis' child has ended up?" He leaned forward over his desk, fingers interlaced before him. "That's a fairly important piece of information, and I believe I need to know it."

"Because you think she should be in PRT care, yes?" Sitting at ease in the visitors' chair, I spread my hands. "Why is this, exactly?"

"Because …" He hesitated, then bit the bullet. "They say that the children of parahumans are starting to demonstrate powers as well. And that's something we need to keep on top of. The kid of someone as strong as Marquis …"

I raised my hand. "With all due respect, Director, let me stop you right there. Yes, Marquis committed crimes, and thus he is rightfully going into the prison system. Also, yes, his daughter is extremely likely to trigger with her own, quite powerful, capabilities."

"Then where's the damn problem?" he demanded. "She needs to be under our care!"

"No, she does not, for three reasons," I informed him, never raising my tone. "First off, she's entirely innocent of any criminal activity, so she doesn't need who her father is hanging over her head every hour of the day, which would happen under PRT care. Second, you don't have any current system set up for PRT custody of minor children of villains, and we both know that putting one together on the fly would result in a structure rife with loopholes and the opportunity for abuse. Third, I've already placed her in a stable family environment where she will get all the love and attention that she needs to grow up happy and well-adjusted."

"What?" He shook his head. "Marquis was arrested last night. Are you telling me that you managed to arrange a living situation for her in less than twelve hours? And got the people you left her with to agree to it in that time?"

I cleared my throat in a totally theatrical manner. "Director Jameson, I will deny this if you ever go on the record with it, but PRT Intelligence occasionally has knowledge of things that we don't act upon immediately. I knew of Marquis' daughter, and of the upcoming raid, before either thing became an issue. Thus, I had adequate lead time to arrange for her placement."

He stared at me, then blinked a couple of times. "My Intelligence department didn't know about who Marquis was, or about his daughter. And for that matter, they damn sure didn't know what the Brigade was aiming to do, either!" The question 'how the hell did you, an out-of-towner, know all this while we didn't' hung in the air between us, perfectly obvious for all that it went unspoken.

"I did note that this was off the record," I reminded him. "There's very little outward difference between 'didn't know' and 'knew but didn't say anything', after all. Marquis is behind bars now, so I fail to see the problem."

Mentally, I apologised to the head of the PRT ENE Intelligence department. Whoever it was probably didn't deserve the grilling they were about to get from Director Jameson; but again, not exactly my problem. Amelia needed to go where I'd put her, and the last thing I wanted to have to deal with was interference by my putative allies in the matter.

He drew a deep breath, apparently doing his best to rein in his temper. "If you knew who he was before this point, we could've arrested the sonovabitch years ago!"

"We could have, certainly," I agreed. "The fact remains, though, as bad as he is, he provided a moderating influence on his fellow supervillains within Brockton Bay. No drugs were peddled or prostitution provided within his turf. Yes, he's an unrepentant murderer, but he kept civilian harm to a minimum. Can we say that about Butcher and the Teeth, or Galvanate, or the Empire Eighty-Eight? And let's not forget that he personally sent the Nine packing, the one time they visited this city."

"Butcher and the Teeth aren't in town at the moment," he gritted. "The Empire imploded after Allfather and Iron Rain were killed, four years ago. We brought Galvanate in six months ago. You could've filled us in about Marquis any time since then. Why didn't you?"

This was starting to snowball in directions I hadn't wanted it to. Fortunately, I still had ammunition to use. "Several reasons. First, as you've no doubt noticed, I've had other matters on my plate to deal with. Making sure that the Behemoth doesn't wake up and start walking around again, for one. Second, keeping an eye out for signs that another one might show up. So far, we're good. Third, keeping the PRT computer systems up to date and secure. And fourth, just because there are no other supervillains at large in the city, this doesn't mean that others aren't trying to come in from the outside." Lisa had already told me about the Boston Games, several years in the future and an uncountable distance away in an impossible direction. "Marquis was dissuading them from coming into his city and intruding on his criminal monopoly. I found it convenient to allow him to keep doing that."

"Ah." He sat back again. "So … the lesser of two evils, something like that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "When has this job ever not been about choosing the lesser of two evils?"

He grunted in what sounded vaguely like reluctant agreement. "Fine. So, where've you placed the kid? We're going to need to keep overwatch, especially if she's not in the custody of PRT personnel."

"I'm sorry, sir—" I really wasn't, though it had to be said for politeness' sake. "—but you're not cleared for that."

His brows drew down as he scowled at me. "I beg your goddamn pardon, Captain? I'm cleared for everything that happens in this department, by definition."

"Not for this, sir." I kept my tone deferential but firm. "Marquis has a lot of enemies in the criminal world. All it would take is for one of them to slide moles into the PRT and get access to wherever you store this information, and she would be dead or worse. It's very much a need-to-know situation, and I'm sorry, but you don't need to know."

He couldn't argue with me, and he knew it. Before I had enacted the Snow Protocols (though I could've done with any other name for them) the various PRT departments had been extremely problematic, infosec-wise. Incursions had not been uncommon, and even now the Protocols were occasionally rooting out newly-placed moles; hopefully before they had the chance to do real damage.

"Fine," he grated at last. "But I expect to be at the top of the notify list if she shows up with a really damaging power. Do you understand me, Snow?"

"You'll be the first person I tell about it," I promised solemnly. Not that I intended to be telling anyone, but if I did tell someone, he'd probably be the first.

"Good. Was there anything else you wanted to pass on?"

I thought for a moment, then shook my head. "No, sir. I think we've covered everything. Are those files ready that you wanted me to look over?"

"Yeah." He gestured toward the door, and the elevator beyond it. "Fifth floor. You probably know the way already."

I gave him a beaming smile. "Thank you. I certainly do." Rising to my feet, I gave him a courteous nod, then went to the door. "Thank you for your time, Director."

Leaving him staring at my back, I opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. It was time to go meet with his Intelligence guys and give them the information that Lisa had already filled me in on.

I had a reputation to uphold, after all.

End of Part 9-2​

 

[Treangulator]

Is she going to warn tne Brockton bay brigade about
"Fleur" situation?
That is retaliation to their tactics of catching villains in their civvies.

 

[Priapus]

Thus begins Mommy Taylor Proper.

 

[silentorphan]

Is she going to warn tne Brockton bay brigade about "Fleur" situation? That is retaliation to their tactics of catching villains in their civvies.

Click to shrink...

IIRC, the "Fleur situation" was specifically done by an Empire 88 wannabe. The Empire doesn't exist anymore in this timeline.

 

[Ack]

Recoil

Part 9-3: Damage Mitigation

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. The month has been hectic.]​

The terrain was bumpy under the wheels of the Mars rover, which wasn't exactly a surprise, given that we weren't on a road. Fortunately, the steel-mesh tyres and the extravagantly designed suspension were up to the challenge, and we forged onward, only having to adjust our course every now and then. The slope upward was constant but gentle, and we could see the dusty red Martian sky giving way to darkness and dead black above us, through the UV-shielded forward viewport.

"You may as well spill," Lisa advised, giving me one of her trademark smug grins. "You've been sitting there like a grumpy rock for the past hour instead of enjoying the view. This is supposed to be cool and exciting, not brooding material."

I don't like it. Turning my head, I gave her a sideways glare. In fact, I hate it. Why do we have to do it this way?

"We don't, not really." She shrugged. "You could shoot him in the back of the head anytime in the next couple of months. Nobody would know. Nothing would happen. Calvert would continue to be a growing problem in the PRT, until we chose to intervene. Hamilton would discover his ongoing medical emergency in about a year, once the colon cancer really takes hold. You could warn him about that too, though I'm not sure how you would convince him you were an expert in the field."

And so I stay in the PRT, until I engineer my exit some other way. I sighed. Probably in the wake of Hamilton's funeral. Because I'm damn sure whoever ends up in his office next won't be nearly as ready to sign off on my stunts as he is.

"Oh, didn't you know?" She expertly steered around a lava flow that would've caused severe problems with the undercarriage. "He's already named you as his successor for when he retires. Youngest head of PRT Intelligence in history."

You're shitting me. I stared at her in horror. She gazed back, her expression bland and unreadable, without the slightest hint of humour or smugness. You're not shitting me. How can he even think that would go through?

"It'd be a circus, I'll admit." She shifted to a lower gear to negotiate some rough terrain. "But once the Chief Director puts her weight behind it, it'll be a done deal."

But she doesn't even like me, I don't think. Every time we've spoken, every time she's tried to recruit me into one of her damn think tanks, I've stonewalled her. Why would she support me in that role?

Lisa laughed, shaking her head. "Taylor. Hon. Sweetheart. Do you honestly think Alexandria gives a single solitary fuck whether she likes the people under her, as opposed to whether they can do the job?"

It only took a moment's thought for me to shake my head. No, I guess not. And once I'm locked into that position, it would be ten times as hard for me to break free. Because I'd damn well want to get it into proper running order before I walked away from it. All it would take is one Robbie Gordon working behind my back to fuck it all up, otherwise.

"Or one Thomas Calvert, for that matter. And he's not only still in the PRT, but he still wants to cash in on everything that you've achieved, remember?"

The crest we drove up over was as gentle as could be imagined, but we were no longer going up so much as across. Half a mile ahead of us yawned a pit that stretched into the distance; the caldera complex of Olympus Mons. We were on top of the tallest mountain in the Solar System, but the slope to get to where we were was so long that the lower section was hidden behind the horizon. Lisa pulled the rover to a halt.

I sighed, turning to look out the side window. Okay, yeah, I get it. There are no good options, only varying levels of bad. The Intelligence division will be floundering without me or Hamilton there, though.

Lisa grabbed my chin and pulled me around to face her. "Now, you listen to me. If you try to save absolutely everything and everyone, you'll end up saving nothing and nobody. Bad things will happen, but it's not the end of the world. In fact, the end of the world is what you're working to prevent. So let them make their mistakes and figure it out. Gordon won't be there and neither will Calvert. Have faith in the people you've been training. Okay?"

Okay. I nodded. Thanks. I'll send that order through for Synth to make up the bombs.

"Good." She went to say something else but was interrupted by a couple of thunderous booms that shook the rover.

What was that? I leaned forward to look out through the forward viewport, seeking brand-new craters. Meteorites?

"No. They need you out in the real world. Key words: Krieg, Black Prince, hostages." She leaned closer. "Kiss before you go?"

Her lips tasted of dust and blood. A gust of the astringent recycled air in the cab irritated my eyes, and I blinked—

<><>​

0317 Hours (CST)
Saturday Morning, November 18, 2000
PRT Department 04 (Chicago)

Captain Taylor Snow

—and opened my eyes as Kinsey's characteristic knock sounded a third time on my bedroom door. "What is it?" I called out. Kinsey and I knew each other well enough by now that I was certain he would never disturb me unnecessarily. It helped that I already knew something was up.

"Emergency call-out, ma'am." Kinsey cracked the door open so that I'd be able to hear him clearly. "There's been an incursion through LAX, and they want your eyes on it."

I didn't bother asking more questions or complaining about the inconvenient hour. As Captain Snow, I had painstakingly constructed a reputation of being very good at my job, and wake-ups like this were the cost I paid for it. My head clearing by the second, I climbed out of bed, freshened up in the ensuite, and made myself presentable. I was done and out into the corridor before I was all the way awake, which said a lot for the habits instilled in me in boot camp. "Lead the way, Kinsey."

"Ma'am." Despite the fact that he had to have been woken up as abruptly as I had, he was as immaculately turned out as though he'd just come off inspection. Without any further ado, he escorted me to the correct conference room, where Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton and Director Rankine awaited.

Hamilton shared our appearance of readiness to face the day, while Rankine looked rather more haggard and sleep-deprived. I wasn't much worried; he was the one who'd had me rousted out of bed, after all. I came to attention once I'd entered the room. "Reporting for duty, gentlemen. What's the issue?"

Hamilton gave me a polite nod in return. "Good to see you, Snow. A little over three hours ago, the Los Angeles International Airport triggered a security alert on six people who'd come through on what we now believe are faked passports. They're in the wind. We have security images and the names they used, but it's not matching anything in the database."

"But you think one or more of them might be a cape." I gestured at myself, then at the others in the room. "Otherwise, we wouldn't be standing in this room right now."

Rankine stifled an involuntary yawn. "Correct, Captain. We've had the imagery faxed over, and the footage is being couriered as we speak. Anything you can give us, anything at all, would be better than what we have right now."

"I'll do what I can, sir." Pulling out the chair, I sat down at the table and started sorting through the stack of papers there. "Kinsey? Tea, please."

"Ma'am." Kinsey left the room while I started looking through the evidence. Hamilton took a seat as well and looked over anything I had put aside, while Rankine alternated between yawning and refraining from trying to hurry me along.

Kinsey returned with a steaming cup of tea in remarkably short order, and placed it at my elbow. I stopped what I was doing, took it up, and sipped at it with my eyes closed. In this posture, I was able to slide into a light trance, allowing Lisa to give me some more information.

Opening my eyes again, I replaced the teacup on its saucer. "It's a Gesellschaft operation."

Hamilton's head came up, his eyes intent behind his glasses. Rankine reacted even more dramatically, almost overbalancing as he whipped his head around to stare at me. I pretended to ignore them both as I arranged the papers in a specific order.

"G-Gesellschaft? What do they want?" Rankine, of course, knew who they were. "And how do you know?"

I tapped one of the papers, a faxed photo of a blurred security still shot. "That's Krieg. Real name James Fliescher. He was embedded in the Empire Eighty-Eight in Brockton Bay until Allfather's death. Got out by the skin of his teeth. Looks like he's back, with friends." Turning the paper over, I started writing information down, still talking. "If you want my opinion, they're looking to revive some version of the Empire, using Allfather's son as their figurehead. I've been getting whispers of this for a while but nothing solid enough to act on, until now. As I recall, young Anders is currently on the Protectorate roster in New York. You might want to give them the heads-up against the chance of his wife and kid being used as hostages."

Rankine stared at me. "How in God's name did you know about Black Prince? You weren't cleared to be read in on that."

I stopped writing and put the pen down. "Director, you employ me to analyse cape activity and determine what's happening behind the scenes, before it affects anyone. Please don't take it amiss if I figure things out before you tell me about them."

Hamilton didn't comment on that, but he did nod toward the paper I'd been writing on. "Snow, what are those notes you're writing there?"

I handed it over. "It's for the PRT teams that have to go up against them. Krieg's most promising Gesellschaft capes, plus a few American villains they've been reaching out to over the last six months. Names, costume details, and powersets."

He accepted it and read it over, his brow wrinkling. "This is concerning. Do you believe the local capes met them in LA, or are they waiting in New York, or somewhere in between?"

I leaned back in my chair and drank some more tea while I pretended to think about that. Rankine was much less jittery when I sat forward again. "Given the distance they have to cross … they're more than likely in the air right now. Either they changed out identities in the airport, probably with the assistance of in-place assets, and hopped a direct flight to New York, or they're taking a puddle-jumper. But if I had to lay money, I'd pick the former. As for the local capes, we have three options: they met up with them in LA, they're picking them up on the way via the puddle-jumper, or they're meeting them in New York."

"The alert pinged half an hour after they came through customs." Hamilton's voice was thoughtful. "A direct flight takes five and a half hours. Assuming they took the faster route, we've still got about an hour and a half to get a reception committee in place. What's your best guess on which of the three options they took?"

I drew a deep breath. "Considering the logistical problems of cramming nine wanted capes on a redeye from LA to New York as opposed to six, I'm of the firm opinion that Krieg would've told the locals to meet him here, thus giving him eyes on the ground before he ever arrives."

"If they're really flying in, that's three different airports that need to be covered." Rankine's voice held a doubtful note.

"And New York has enough personnel on the ground to make it happen, sir." Hamilton glanced meaningfully at the wall clock. "An hour and a half is a nice chunk of lead time, but it's not forever."

"But … what do I tell them?" asked Rankine plaintively.

"Exactly what's happened." Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton may have looked like someone's favourite grandpa, but he could still employ a command tone when he needed to. "That the woman who predicted Behemoth just gave them advance notice of hostile capes infiltrating their city. I doubt they'll question that."

"Also to keep an eye out for Hookwolf, Stormtiger and Cricket," I reminded them, gesturing at the sheet of paper. New to supervillainy, those particular capes had only triggered in the last few years. But they'd also been assholes from the get-go, and were perfectly amenable to working with white supremacists if it gave them free rein to commit the occasional atrocity.

"Quite right, quite right." Rankine pulled his phone from his pocket and fiddled with it. "Robbins?" he said, the phone cradled against the side of his head. "Rankine. Look, I'm sorry to pull you out of bed at this hour, but …"

<><>​

5:05 AM (EST)
New York City

Black Prince

As Max Anders slowly surfaced from sleep, he became aware of three things. First: the phone was ringing, which was the reason he was awake at all. Second: it was cold, which meant he didn't even want to get out of bed. And third: Heith was still asleep, which meant he had a chance to get to it before it woke her up.

Grimacing at the chilly air, he pulled back the covers and swung his feet over to plant them on the floor. If the air had been chilly, the floor was downright brutal, striking up through his bare soles and making his toes ache. But he kept moving toward the living room, where the phone sat on a side table.

It rang twice more before he got to it, then he plucked the handset off the cradle and held it to his ear. That was cold, too. "Hello?"

"Black Prince." It was Legend. "I apologise for waking you like this, but we have a situation. One of your father's old associates has returned to the US; specifically, Krieg. We believe he's bringing a group of capes with the aim of recruiting you to lead a new incarnation of the Empire Eighty-Eight."

If he'd thought the air and floor were cold, that was nothing to the chill that deluged down his back and raised goosebumps on every inch of his flesh. "But … I'm a hero," he managed at last. "I've been in the Protectorate for four years now. He can't possibly think I'll go along with that." But his mind threw up old memories of Fliescher, and just how far the man had been willing to go to further the goals of the Empire. Nothing had been off limits.

"This is why he's bringing reinforcements." Legend apparently recalled Krieg's reputation as well, though Max didn't think they'd ever actually met. "I have it on good authority that they're likely to target your wife and child as hostages if you're unwilling to accede to their demands."

Heith. Theo. An iron-clad fist settled around Max's heart and squeezed.

While Heith was a cape in her own right, and quite able to defend herself if necessary, Theo had only just turned four. A happy, pudgy little child, he was the light of Max's existence and full of life and love for all his 'aunts' and 'uncles' who visited the Anders apartment from time to time.

He wouldn't stand a chance. And if Krieg got hold of him, Max would fold to any demands. It wouldn't even be a contest.

"Okay, so where are they? What's the plan? How do we protect Heith and Theo?" He'd entirely forgotten the cold by now as his eyes darted around the room, unconsciously seeking the danger that he knew was approaching.

"The soonest they're due to arrive is an hour from now. We don't know which flight they're coming in on, so we're sending troopers to each of Newark, JFK and LaGuardia. I'm also dividing up the on-duty heroes between the three locations. If all goes well, we'll have them in hand before they know what's going on." Legend was trying to sound reassuring, Max knew, but that 'if all goes well' was doing a lot of heavy lifting.

"Only an hour?" He well knew how short a time that was when it came to setting up a defensive operation. "How long have you known they were flying in? And what happens if they break through your perimeter?" An airport was the very last place they wanted a pitched battle to take place in; even at six in the morning, there would be far too many innocents in the line of fire, not to mention fragile infrastructure.

Legend hesitated. "We've known they were in-country since just after one AM. The decision to call in an analyst was made around four. She ID'd them and figured out what they were up to by four-thirty, and gave us good odds that they were flying in. Now she's studying security images of the passengers, in an attempt to determine which flight they're on before the planes land." Another pause. "There may also be like-minded capes on the ground in New York right now, but we're still working to verify that."

"And you're only calling me now?" Max was trying not to shout, but it wasn't easy. "This is my wife and child we're talking about, here! How do you intend to keep them safe?"

"By intercepting the terrorists before they have a chance to escape. What I need you to do is get your family to the PRT building as soon as possible. I doubt they'll risk an all-out attack on it, if they even know where to go."

"Krieg will absolutely know where to go." Max was sure of this. "I know how the man operates. He'll already have a network of people in the city, reporting every one of our moves to him. These local capes will be part of it. Why do you think he's waited this long to come back? He wanted to make sure all his pieces were in place."

"Do you think they'll move on you early, with the local capes?" Legend didn't sound thrilled at the idea.

"No, he'll want to direct them in person." Max sighed. "Their job isn't to do the grab. It's to smooth the way for the professionals. Fake identities, safe houses, transport, money, weapons for those who need them. Muscle as a last resort. You get the idea."

"You sound very certain of your conclusions."

Max snorted. "I should. I've seen this sort of thing done, more than once. Krieg was the one who taught my father how to pull it off."

"Then how do we combat it?"

Max closed his eyes and wished his toes weren't so cold, and that he was more awake for this. "I guess … we assume all our movements are being watched. And as for the PRT playbook regarding this sort of thing … throw it away. Krieg's read it, and he knows how to counter it."

"Have you read his playbook? What else do you know of how he operates?"

"Ah …" Max hesitated. "No matter what promises he's made to the local capes, he'll treat them as disposable. He's an absolute fanatic, and he won't pull any punches. He'll—"

Just at that moment, there was a sharp knock on the front door. "Mr Anders!" The voice from outside was masculine and authoritative. "PRT! Please open the door!"

Max relaxed slightly. "Oh, good. The PRT just got here. I'll just go let them in."

"Wait!" Legend's voice was urgent. "A team was dispatched only five minutes ago. They wouldn't have had time to get to you yet. Whoever that is … it's not the PRT."

"Mr Anders!" The shout was louder this time. "Is someone in there with you?"

"Just a minute!" he called out. "I'm on the phone!" An instant later, he realised his mistake; stretching out his hand, he generated an iron barrier that dug spikes into the floor, blocking the door as best he could.

It was good that he had, because a moment later, something hit the door and it flew open, or rather travelled about one inch and smashed into the barricade. Frantically, he reinforced the iron wall as best he could, but even while he was in the process of doing this, another thunderous impact slammed into the door. The wood shattered and the barrier rocked; the latter held.

"What was that noise?" Now Legend sounded truly concerned.

"They're trying to get in," gritted Max. "Send help. Send everyone."

He dropped the phone then, and concentrated on building up the barrier and spreading it from side to side; if they could break the door, they could certainly burst through the wall.

Heith came out of the bedroom then, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she flipped the light switch, everything turned from dimness and vague shapes to bright clarity. "Max? What's going on? What was—"

There was a whistle of wind, followed by another tremendous crash. Part of his barrier broke away from the wall, revealing a hole behind it. A face showed in the hole, wearing a blue and white tiger mask. "Give it up, Anders. We'll—"

Heith reacted faster than either Max or the tiger-masked villain expected. Lunging across the room, she shot up to nine feet tall so that she was hunched over by the time she got to the hole. Her arm stretched as she expanded in size; reaching through the hole, she grabbed the villain by the steel chains he was wearing as a fashion accessory and dragged him into the apartment.

He let out a choked scream as he was forced through a hole that was a little too narrow for him, edged with sharp metal. Max was pretty sure he heard bones breaking. There was a certain amount of laceration and blood flow going on there as well.

As soon as the villain was all the way inside, Max patched the hole with a solid chunk of iron. He finished off by using the villain's chains as a basis for iron bonds that wrapped securely around him. It also served to put pressure on the man's cuts, even though that hadn't been the primary intention.

A brief lull fell; Max was almost certain he could hear a whispered conversation from outside, along the lines of 'what the hell was that?' and 'what the fuck do we do now?'

Heith looked down at her captive, who'd stopped screaming but wasn't giving the slightest hint that he was happy with the situation. "Max, who is this? What's going on?"

"Krieg's back, and he wants me to start up the Empire again." That would have to suffice for the moment. "Go check on Theo. I got this."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Krieg's name, but she nodded. "Okay." She reduced in size until she could stand upright, then headed to Theo's bedroom. "Theo? Honey? Are you— hey! Who the—Max!"

That, and the sudden wail of fear from within the bedroom, galvanised Max into action. He launched himself in that direction, fists clenched. Heith was already out of sight; Max barrelled in after her, ready to commit any level of violence necessary to protect her and Theo.

Heith shrieked in pain just before he got there. He slammed into the doorframe then caromed off into the room proper, trying to make sense of the scene before him. Sprawled across the floor, more than fifteen feet tall, Heith had a bladed weapon of some sort sunk into her right shoulder; the arm hung useless at her side. With her left hand, she had hold of Theo's arm. Theo himself was bawling in terror as the slender female figure, her head encased in a cage, attempted to drag him out the window.

Even as Max entered the room, the intruder raised another bladed weapon—some kind of curved blade on a straight handle—and he divined her intent in an instant. She intended to cut his son's arm off if Heith did not release him. That this would almost certainly prove fatal to Theo likely didn't factor into her calculations; she intended to win, no matter the cost.

Unfortunately for her, so did Max.

The window had previously been secured with a series of iron bars, some of which had been carefully cut through before entry could be effected. He focused his attention on these—she was literally squeezing between them—and exerted his power. Even as the gleaming blade began its downward arc, razor-edged blades erupted from the bars, skewering her in a dozen places.

She choked, coughed, then released her grip on Theo. A moment later, as Heith pulled him to safety, the second weapon clattered harmlessly to the carpeted floor. Max darted forward to Heith's side and steadied her. "Wait until I pull it out, then shrink down," he said urgently. "The wound will be a lot smaller, that way."

"Whatever you're going to do, do it now," she gritted, cradling Theo to her. "I can feel it touching bone."

With the first aid training he'd been given, he knew that leaving it in was the approved course of action. However, she couldn't move around at that size, and if she shrank down like that, it would likely tear the wound wider. With one ear listening for any noises from the living room, he grasped the handle with one hand, braced against her shoulder with the other, and carefully worked it free. It came out reluctantly, and he let out a long breath that he'd forgotten he was holding. "It's out."

"Good." She immediately began to reduce in size until the wound in her shoulder had gone from a serious gash to a minor puncture. Theo hung onto her the whole time, eyes shut tight and bawling non-stop.

Grasping his pyjama sleeve, Max tore it free, then bound it around Heith's shoulder as a temporary bandage. It showed red immediately, but didn't soak all the way through. "Will you be okay here?" he asked. "I have to check the front."

"We'll be fine." She eyed the slumped body of the young woman with the cage over her head. "Nobody'll be climbing in past her."

"Sorry I had to—" he began, fully aware that he was likely to be having nightmares about it for quite some time. He'd never actually killed anyone before, even in the heat of battle.

Heith leaned her head against his for a second. "It was horrible, but you had to stop her. Go."

When he got out into the living room again, all was quiet, save for the impotent struggles of the man in the tiger mask. However the asshole had smashed the hole in the wall, he couldn't do it now. But it was also quiet outside the apartment, which worried Max.

And then he heard the voice calling out. "Max! Are you in there?" It was Legend, and a rush of relief went through him.

"I'm here!" he replied. "I'm fine. Heith will need a doctor, but we're mostly fine."

"Good, good." Legend's face appeared in the doorway as Max began dismantling his barricade. "I just took down an out-of-towner called Hookwolf, as well as a few mooks. This isn't all there was, is there? I was told to keep an eye out for two more, by the names of Stormtiger and Cricket."

Max took a deep breath. "Yeah, Stormtiger must be this guy. And Cricket … she stabbed Heith and tried to hurt Theo. I had to … well, she's dead."

Legend stepped in through the front doorway and squeezed Max's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't beat yourself up too badly over it. You were defending your wife and child. How serious is it?"

"I've been better." Heith came out into the living room, cradling Theo with her good arm. "But it could've been a hell of a lot worse. Is it over?"

Legend frowned and waggled his hand from side to side. "We've still got the six capes incoming from LA. But right now, we need to get you three into a secure location. And medical attention for your arm, of course. Max, how fast can you pack some clothes?"

Max smiled grimly. "Time me."

<><>​

PRT Department 04 (Chicago)
0410 Hours CST

Captain Taylor Snow, PRT Intelligence Division

I frowned, sorting out the passenger images one more time and discarding several of them. Then I held one up. "Krieg," I said definitively. Placing the picture in front of me, I pulled out one of a young woman. "Blitzmädel." It went on top of the picture of Krieg. "Eisernes Kreuz and Kapitän Hammer. Das Grauen and Jagdpanzer." More images joined the new stack. "They're on the LaGuardia flight."

Director Rankine blinked. "And you're sure about that?"

"As sure as I can be without a fingerprint check, sir." I stretched both arms above my head with my hands linked, causing a few of my vertebrae to pop satisfyingly. "According to the seating chart, they're separated into pairs throughout the plane: pre-existing partnerships. You can see the telltales of their makeup and disguises if you look closely enough, and I've seen their pictures enough times that I'm able to pick out certain features. You can make a nose bigger but you can't make it smaller, that sort of thing."

All of which was true, but I had cheated; thanks to Lisa, I'd known who I was looking for from the moment I sat down. The rest was smoke and mirrors.

Not to say I couldn't have picked them out eventually anyway—it wasn't as though I lacked analytical skills—but Lisa made it effortless within the time limit.

As Rankine grabbed up the phone and started dialling, Hamilton reached across from where he'd been sitting, raising his eyebrows for my permission to take the stack in front of me. I nodded, and he scooped them up. One by one, he looked at them, then at the six photos that had been wired through from Bonn.

"I can see it, just barely," he admitted. "But I would've been dubious about making a definitive call. Your crystal ball's working overtime, Snow. I'll see you get recognition for this."

"No need, sir." The last thing I needed was another promotion, or even another medal. Besides, given what was coming up soon, I didn't want to muddy the waters. Or have official eyes on me.

Still talking on the phone, Rankine accepted the papers from Hamilton and fed them, one at a time, into the fax machine. Once they'd been sent on their way, he hung up the phone again and turned to me.

"You called it again, Snow. Three American capes just tried to abduct Black Prince and his family from their apartment. Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket."

"What happened?" I asked. "Are they alright?"

He nodded. "Black Prince and his son are shaken but uninjured. His wife took a minor cut to her arm. Cricket is deceased, and the other two capes are in custody."

"Well, that could've gone a lot worse." I rubbed my thumbnail over my lower lip. "What's the current plan for dealing with Krieg and his merry band of murderers?" They were due to land in three-quarters of an hour, and I did not want them loose in New York.

He shrugged. "I have no idea, Snow. That sort of thing, I leave to the people who know what they're doing." The distracted look he gave me suggested he'd forgotten that I was one of the people who knew what they were doing.

"Do me a favour, sir? Call them back and ask if they've got one that doesn't involve immobilising the plane with a couple hundred hostages between them and a clean takedown?"

It might have been the lack of sleep or just faith in me, but he didn't even argue before picking the phone up again. I tuned him out as I helped Hamilton gather the rest of the images and restore them to a single stack. Every one of these people, I hoped, would survive the flight and the aftermath, and go home to their loved ones.

Considering what was coming down the pike, I was invested in making sure no innocents died this time.

<><>​

Legend

Keith slowed to a hover next to Director Robbins' office window, and politely knocked. After a moment, the thick polycarbonate slid aside; he drifted in through the opening. Even as he touched down, the window was rumbling shut again.

"Legend." Robbins was on his feet, offering a handshake. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

Keith shook Robbins' hand, but his mind was on other matters. "I was told you had important information for me, sir. What's up?"

"I've got Director Rankine on the line." Robbins gestured to the phone receiver lying on the desk. "He says Captain Snow might have a plan for minimising casualties from the incoming capes, but you're going to need the rest of the Triumvirate for it. Is that possible to arrange?"

Keith didn't speak for a moment. Hero was in Houston and Alexandria was in LA, but they were only a Doorway away. "I'll see what I can do. What's the plan?"

"I'll let them explain." Taking up the receiver, Robbins passed it to him.

Keith held it to his ear. "You have Legend."

"Good to hear." Captain Snow's voice sounded brisk and businesslike. "Big fan of your work. So, first you need to contact the pilot …"

<><>​

9,000 feet over New Jersey, 40 miles out from LaGuardia
5:49 AM EST

Krieg

James Fliescher leaned forward and peered out the aircraft window. There wasn't even the slightest hint of dawn in the eastern sky yet, so the glow had to be from New York City itself, and its sprawl of surrounding communities. He hadn't been back here in four years, ever since the ignominious retreat following the death of Allfather.

Once we have induced Max to embrace his heritage, I will be returning in triumph to Brockton Bay. Whoever thought they owned the Medhall building now, they would soon learn the error of their ways. Gesellschaft would resume its foothold in the United States, with him at the forefront.

The aircraft continued to descend, though James hadn't felt the air pressure change in a while. As the flaps began to motor out of the wing, he leaned back in his seat, willing himself to relax. The time for tension would come once they were on the ground.

Beside him, Petra glanced around nervously. "James …" she murmured, too quietly for the man in the aisle seat to hear her.

"What is it?" He spoke without moving his lips.

"Something's up. The pilot just took a radio call, and now he's flying level. Not descending."

"Hardly cause for alarm." He even believed it. "We probably need to—"

With a tremendous BANG, the main door of the aircraft blew out of its frame. A three-hundred-mph gale blasted into the plane, just ahead of a blue-and-white blur. James had just enough time to recognise Legend before a giant's fist smashed into his chest. Beside him, Petra shrieked in shock as Legend's other blast took her out.

Barely conscious, he slumped in his seat as Petra lolled unconscious beside him. He heard Legend shooting again and again, and somehow knew that the entire strike force was being targeted. Even as he tried to figure out who had betrayed them, everything went black.

<><>​

Alexandria

Rebecca held the plane door back in place as Hero welded it onto its frame again. Removing it once they landed would damage the door all over again, but it wasn't her door and it wasn't her plane. The safety of the passengers was paramount, and Legend had signalled that all six of the Gesellschaft capes had been neutralised.

Whether this meant 'dead' or 'unconscious' she would find out once the plane landed (at McGuire AFB, not LaGuardia, in case something went wrong anyway) and they unloaded the passengers. These people would need transport to New York; but again, not her circus and not her monkeys. Krieg and his fellow capes had tried to bring their particular brand of social poison back to the United States, and her job was to dissuade efforts like that as hard as she could.

Snow's plan had been off-the-wall but impressive all the same, she had to admit. Any strategy she could come up with had involved her entering the plane and physically subduing the capes herself, but that risked extensive damage to the aircraft and danger to the other passengers. Relegating her to catching the door when Hero popped it off had been a bold move, but one that she couldn't fault.

And the passengers would survive the flight with nothing worse than a wild tale to tell, and possibly an autograph or two from Hero and Legend once the danger was past.

She could think of worse ways to start the day.

<><>​

0514 Hours
Chicago PRT Building

Taylor

"Yes … yes … I see … thank you. Yes, I will. Thank you."

Director Rankine placed the receiver back on the cradle and turned to me. "That was Director Robbins. He said to tell you that the jet has touched down at McGuire AFB and the six capes have been safely taken into custody. No civilian casualties. He also said to tell you 'well done'."

"Thank you, sir." I stood up. "May I be excused? I would appreciate a nap before I start the day."

He chuckled and nodded. "Be my guest, Captain. You've earned it. And you too, Colonel. Damn good work, the both of you."

Hamilton murmured his thanks as well; a moment later we were in the hallway, heading back to our quarters. I would've been just as happy to have the walk pass in silence, but he glanced sideways at me, and I knew he had something on his mind. "Sir?"

"Where does it end, Snow?" He looked older than I'd ever seen him before. "This time it was Gesellschaft coming back into the country to force one of our own to restart a defunct gang. What will it be next?"

I bit my lip. The urge to say something, to give him some warning of what was coming almost got the better of me. But if I gave clear details and in doing so spun events out of control, that way lay disaster. On the other hand, a cryptic warning could be interpreted several ways …

"The patterns I'm seeing say it'll be something different, sir. Something in-country, not coming from outside. Big, but containable. Ongoing, even if we contain it. Unless we take drastic action at the outset." I gave him a serious look. "Action that's unlikely to gain official approval in time to make it viable."

He stared at me. "Christ, Snow, I was being rhetorical. Please tell me you're pulling my leg right now."

"I wish I was, sir." I shook my head. "I've been trying to firm up the numbers. It'll be somewhere in the northeast region. Not sure what, or who, or how. But it'll keep outpacing estimates until the only option is to quarantine the whole thing indefinitely."

"Unless we act early, and outside the chain of command." Despite his complaint, he'd been listening.

"I'm afraid so, sir."

He grimaced, searching my face. "Is this going to be another Eidolon thing?"

"I … I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe worse. No heroes are involved, I can tell you that."

"Is it another thing like the Behemoth?" I could tell he didn't want to ask the question, but he had to.

"Not like him, no, sir. Smaller scale, more insidious, but dangerous all the same."

Slowly, he nodded. "But you'll be able to figure out a counter before it's too late?"

"With any luck, sir, yes."

He drew a deep breath. "Alright, then. Set up your plans. Fill me in when you think I need to know. I'm trusting you to get this right, Snow."

Guilt clogged my throat. I came so close right then to telling him the actual details, but I pulled back at the last moment. "Sir, yes, sir."

His eyes passed over me in a searching glance, then he nodded again. "Very well. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." I made my escape, feeling the sweat trickle down my spine. I'd been cool and composed all the way through the aircraft interception, but this was the thing that flustered me?

God damn it. If there was any other way.

But there wasn't. I had to walk into this situation with my eyes wide open, and by my silence I would condemn good men to death. The only thing I hated more than the dilemma was myself.

Entering my quarters, I mechanically began to disrobe. I placed the jacket back on its hanger, while the rest of my uniform went into the laundry hamper. When I was down to my underwear, I switched off the light and climbed back into bed.

It was still dark outside; not a ray of light pierced the dimness of my bedroom. But toss and turn as I might, I could not find rest. Even with my eyes closed, repeating the mantra of self-hypnosis, sleep eluded me.

I'd known this day was coming for years, but somehow I had assumed that I'd be able to figure a way out of it that got me what I wanted, my omelette, without breaking any eggs.

This was as far from the truth as it could get. Eggs were going to be broken. People would die. Other people would get hurt. People I cared about.

And I … I would have to go on.

Because that was what I did.

Sometimes, saving the world could be a goddamn lonely job.

End of Part 9-3​

 

[macdjord]

She breathed deeply, trying to relax and slow her hammering heartbeat. Gradually, memories began to surface.

The car handled well. Too well, in fact. She felt totally in control, even as her speed crept up past sixty and began encroaching on sixty-five. She was the queen of the road, the mistress of the asphalt.

Click to shrink...

@Ack: Between these two paragraphs, you change time-periods from after the crash to the crash itself. You either need a scene break between the two, or some sort of formatting change (e.g. italics) to indicate the crash-itself part is a flashback, or everything from the second paragraph on to the end of the scene needs to be transposed into past-perfect tense (i.e. 'the car had handled well', 'she had felt totally in control', etc.).