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Security! (a Worm SI fic)

Discussion in 'Creative Writing' started by Ack, Jan 10, 2015.

  1. Psyckosama

    Psyckosama Connoisseur.

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  2. edale

    edale Versed in the lewd.

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    [​IMG]
    It fits, it's sarcastic, AND it's ironic.:p
     
  3. DieKatzchen

    DieKatzchen Know what you're doing yet?

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  4. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Security!

    Epilogue One: Earth Bet


    Part Zero: In the Days Before …

    Saturday, June 4, 2011
    Medical


    “You want what now?”

    Amy suppressed a sigh. The foreman of the work crew meant well, but he had a bit to learn about the quirky requests of parahumans. Especially, but not exclusively, Tinkers. Around them, in the cavern intended to become Medical, work went on.

    “I want a refrigerator. As big as you can manage. Right there.” It was an unoccupied corner of the cavern, with easy access to the power supply.

    “Yeah, but I gotta okay this with the higher-ups. What's this big-ass fridge for?”

    “It's going to be stocked with meat. Beef, pork, mutton, whatever else we can manage.”

    The look on his face showed that he still didn't understand. That wasn't totally surprising; she had taken a moment or two to grasp the concept when Mike had suggested it to her. Afterward, she had been amazed that it had not occurred to her earlier. “It's biomass. If someone's missing body parts, I can use that to build new bits.”

    He blinked. “Don't you need, you know, human body parts to do that?”

    She shook her head. “Nope. Now, can I get my fridge installed, please?”

    <><>​

    Part One: In the Hours That Followed …

    Sunday, June 12, 2011
    Medical


    Amy held out her hand. “Steak.”

    The orderly picked up the slab of steak from the tray and placed it on her hand. “This is so weird.”

    She hid a smile. “You don't work with capes much, do you?” Carefully, she placed the steak over the gaping wound.

    Lung, as she understood things, needed time to prepare for a battle. He had been unprepared when Zion first attacked, but had quickly ramped up to a level that allowed him to participate. Unfortunately, this had not prepared him for Zion's counterattacks; his body had not been able to throw off the damage as fast the golden being could inflict it. Still, he'd managed to survive and had stubbornly thrown himself back into the fray time and again. The result of which lay on the bed before her.

    “I'm surprised he's still alive.” That was Othala, on the other side of the bed. “His wounds …”

    Lung had been beaten, burned, slashed and partially disintegrated. One arm was gone, along with part of his ribcage, the side of his face, both eyes and half of his left leg. His breathing was laboured, but he still wasn't giving up. What was most astonishing was that he was showing signs of returning consciousness.

    Placing her hand on Lung's body, she caused the exposed flesh to begin absorbing the biomass into itself. This allowed her to fix the major damage, repairing organs and rebuilding bones. Three more steaks, each an inch thick and a foot across, went into that effort before she was satisfied he wasn't going to die on the table. Lung was awake by now, but she had his pain receptors under control, so all he felt was a dull ache.

    “Okay,” she told him. “I'm going to regrow your eyes now.”

    Breath rasped in his chest as he tried to speak. She repaired some minor damage in his throat.

    “One eye. Both legs,” he told her. “I will regrow the rest.”

    “Your choice.” She held out her hand. “T-bone.” Regrowing his leg would require more bone mass.

    Reaching into the lower tray, the orderly gave her the steak in question. “I guess this will be pretty unique.”

    “How so?” She concentrated on adding the steak's biomass to Lung's.

    “Once we're done here, we'll be barbecuing the leftover bandages.”

    It was the first time she had smiled since learning of Mike's death.

    <><>​

    Sanctuary

    The small community was quiet where normally there would have been a bustle of activity. This was not entirely unexpected; much had happened in a short time. The war had started and finished before most of them had even fully realised what was going on. Zion had died. So had Mike Allen.

    Most of the inhabitants of Sanctuary only knew Mike as a name. Some had spoken to him during his infrequent visits since the founding of the settlement. But there were some who knew him rather better than that.

    Sveta had not cried so hard in months. In the time before she began exchanging messages with Mike's online alter ego, she'd cried often. After he made contact with her, she had begun to depend on him for the escapism that she so desperately needed to cope with the asylum.

    After being taken to Sanctuary, she began to open up, to make friends, but her natural reserve held her back from going too far in that direction. Paige and Joe, at least, made the effort; of the others, most found it hard to trust, which she totally understood.

    Now, one of the few people she had learned to trust unconditionally, who she knew had her back, was gone. After spending all that time building up her sense of self-worth, he'd put her on a shelf like a toy he didn't want broken, and then gone out and gotten himself killed. He wouldn't even let me help. I was useless. I was nothing.

    She wanted desperately to talk to Mrs Yamada, to anyone. But Mrs Yamada wasn't here, and she doubted that many of the others in the settlement would understand how she was feeling. Leaving the tiny hut that she called home, she went to see Paige and Joe. They'll understand.

    But they weren't there. Her feelings of inadequacy, of abandonment, fed on themselves and grew larger. She found her footsteps turning toward the bluff, toward the boat that lay on the stony beach. Her skills with sailing and fishing had come back with practice; by now, she could ready the boat for sea on her own.

    Normally, she enjoyed getting out on the water for its own sake; fishing was just an enjoyable optional extra. But now, the ocean beckoned. The far horizon pulled at her.

    What if I just got in the boat and sailed away? Never came back?

    Almost mechanically, she set about making the boat ready.

    <><>​

    “He's dead.” Paige sat on the clifftop path, looking out over the ocean. The sun sparkled on the waves, but it didn't help.

    “But it worked.” Joe put his arm around her shoulders; she leaned into him, taking comfort from his closeness, his strength.

    “Yeah, but I wish he didn't have to die to make it work.”

    “Not arguing here.” He stroked her hair and feathers, making them lie flat on her head. “Just saying that he knew ahead of time. If you know you're gonna go anyway, plan to take the other guy down with you.”

    She sighed sadly. “I don't even know how to think that way.”

    “And that's one of the things I love about you.” His lips pressed against her forehead. “You're gentle. With your power, you coulda been a really scary supervillain. But you don't think that way, an' you never will.”

    “I still screwed up.” She pressed her cheek against his chest. “I still nearly went to the Birdcage.”

    “If you hadn't, we wouldn't have met.” He gently raised her chin so that he could kiss her.

    “Mmm.” When she spoke next, her voice was quiet. “You were the third person who was nice to me, you know? After I was arrested, I mean. Everyone saw me as a dangerous villain. Even my attorney barely made an effort. And then he just stepped in and took me out of that.”

    Joe didn't have to ask who 'he' was. “So who was the second?”

    “That was actually Mike. The first one was Dragon. She flew me back to Brockton Bay. She was really friendly. Chatty, even. Like she wanted to be friends with me.”

    “Huh. Met her once or twice. She seemed okay.” He snorted. “I seem to recall that as soon as you got brought back to Brockton Bay, you got put straight to work for the PRT. Not dangerous work, but pretty close to it, from time to time.”

    “And the Birdcage would have been preferable?” Her tone was light.

    “Hah. Well, no.” He sighed. “You know, when I first got put on the detail to guard you, I didn't know what to think. Figured I'd pissed off someone higher up. Punishment duty, you know?”

    “It showed,” she admitted. “At first, you talked to me like you hated me.”

    “I never hated you,” he said. “But … I didn't know you. Didn't know what to think of you. I'd heard what you'd done, and I didn't know how anyone could do something like that.”

    “Well, it wasn't on purpose,” she objected.

    “Yeah, I know that now,” he assured her. “Not sure exactly when I started falling for you, but when you started sunbathing on the roof, it sure as hell didn't hurt.”

    “Why, Joe McKenzie,” she exclaimed playfully, raising herself up so that she could look him in the eye. “You were ogling me while I was sunbathing?”

    “Hell, yes,” he replied promptly.

    She smiled and curled up against him again. “Good,” she murmured.

    They sat like that for a little longer. Her hand crept into his, and their fingers laced together tightly. She closed her eyes, listening to the seagulls screeching at one another, to the whisper of wind through the short grass. It was so peaceful here, in Sanctuary. The work was hard, but they were making a home for themselves. Her life as a singer was so far away that it didn't even register on her radar any more.

    “I think we should do something.” His voice, rumbling beside her ear, startled her slightly.

    “About what?” she asked, without opening her eyes.

    “For Mike. A memorial or something. Something to remember him by.”

    She sat up then, opening her eyes. “I think you're right.”

    “He helped you more than he helped me. Any ideas?”

    Paige shook her head. “I'm not the one to ask.”

    <><>​

    They descended the steps that had been cut into the bluff to find Sveta in the process of getting the boat ready for sailing. She had blossomed in the weeks since arriving at Sanctuary; her movements with the mobility armature were quick and sure, and she was no longer as shy and withdrawn as she had once been.

    Still, her face was drawn and pale, even for her, and her movements were just a little jerky. By now she had gone a long way toward regaining her old skill at sailing and fishing, to the point that she was teaching other members of the settlement, but Paige could see her fumbling as she worked to step the mast in the boat.

    Joe stood back as Paige moved forward to the side of the boat. “Uh, Sveta?”

    At first she didn't think the other woman had heard her, but then Sveta paused. Slowly, the armature turned toward Paige; the pale face was pinched, with tracks of tears down her cheeks. “What?”

    An old adage came back to Paige. Friends don't let friends drive angry. She wasn't quite sure that this was the same, but it was close enough to make her concerned. “Uh, where are you going?”

    “Out.” Sveta began to pull a rope tight with sharp movements.

    “When will you be coming back?” Will you be coming back?

    “Dunno.”

    Paige affected a casual tone. “Well, don't be too long. Joe and I want to do something in Mike's memory, and we wanted to see if you had any ideas for it. You spent longer talking to him than I ever did, after all.”

    “Only over a computer. And he didn't tell me that he knew about me right up until I came here.” But her movements had slowed.

    “But he cared. You know he did. I mean, look at me. You could say he rescued me just so I could do crowd control and other stuff like that. But you, he actually wanted to help. He decided you were worth helping. No strings attached.”

    Sveta wasn't even pretending to pull on the rope any more. Her head hung down. “And when he needed help most of all, I couldn't do anything. I couldn't fight Zion. I had to stand back and watch him go.” Her voice broke. “He was so badly hurt, and he still went out there again.”

    “Hey.” It was Joe's gruff voice. “Thing you gotta realise is, the man knew what he was doing. He chose it. The moment Zion went after him, that big golden bastard was screwed.”

    Paige tried again. “He had to do it, to save us.” Sveta didn't move; Paige kept talking, the words spilling out of her mouth. “Anyway, we were helping him. Weaver was telling the capes what to do. We were keeping her safe, just by existing. We made it possible for him to win.”

    Sveta looked up at that. “Is that true, or are you just saying it?”

    “It's what Gladys told us,” Joe affirmed. “Apparently Cauldron capes fuzzed Zion's senses. A lot of you guys all together made it hard for him to spot the needle in the haystack. Go figure.”

    “And we were keeping Gladys and Danny safe as well,” Paige added. “So we weren't doing nothing.”

    “Yeah.” With a sigh, Sveta climbed out of the boat. “So what ideas you got so far?”

    Joe indicated the boat. “Not going out any more?”

    Sveta shook her head. “Nah. Don't feel like it.”

    “Good.” Paige linked her arm through Sveta's. “Come on up. Nobody should be alone at a time like this.”

    Sveta didn't say anything, but the metal fingers of her armature laced through Paige's as they walked toward the bluff.

    <><>​

    Brockton Bay
    PRT Headquarters


    Emily Piggot leaned forward in her chair. “So it's over?”

    “It's over.” Armsmaster's voice was firm.

    Beside him, the tall, statuesque woman nodded. She had long black hair and familiar features; if Piggot had not recognised her as Dragon, she would have taken the woman as being entirely human.

    “It's done,” declared the animatronic avatar. “I analysed the data from the probe most extensively before I self-destructed it. That pocket universe was where Zion kept his body, and Bakuda's bombs killed everything in there that could be killed.”

    “I'm just glad you were able to keep backups that could boot up at a moment's notice.”

    Armsmaster nodded. “So am I.” Emily was fairly sure that his reasons were different to hers.

    “It took time,” Dragon noted. “Time that Weaver and Mike were able to buy us. And to be honest, Weaver did a magnificent job of command and control under the circumstances.”

    “Are we surprised?” Emily's voice was dry. “We all know who picked her for the job.”

    “Well, yes,” agreed Dragon. “And talking about that. Mike and I had several long conversations over the last few weeks. He didn't see this coming, not exactly, but he apparently decided to get the information down before anything else happened, to use his phrasing.”

    “Information?” asked Emily. “What information?”

    “Well, some of it consists of messages to people. Some of it is his will, such as it is. But the most part consists of the details of what would have happened had he not interfered. Of particular interest is a great deal of information of which I was unaware. The bulk of it is useless to us, such as the origin of Zion's species, or details about what might have happened to us. But some of it … some of it may prove to be very useful indeed.”

    Emily's attention was totally riveted by now. “Are you going to tell me what this useful information is?”

    “If I think you need to know,” Dragon said.

    “If I ordered you …” The Director didn't finish the statement. It wasn't quite a threat.

    Dragon smiled beatifically. “It wouldn't work. The President could order me to reveal that information out of turn, and I could still say no.”

    “What?” Emily looked at Armsmaster. “If this is something you've done to make her ignore established authority …”

    “No, it's not.” The Tinker managed to look affronted. “We haven't managed that yet.”

    Yet, she thought. So it's only a matter of time. “Then how …”

    “Because Michael Allen told me to follow my own judgement on what I was to tell people,” Dragon told her, “and who I revealed it to. And I consider him to be the highest authority when it comes to these matters.”

    Director Piggot glared at her for a long moment. “I'd like to be able to tell you that you're wrong,” she gritted. “But I can't.”

    Dragon smiled at her. “Thank you.”

    “But you mentioned a will …?”

    The smile left Dragon's face in an instant. “Yes. Did you want to hear it?”

    Piggot blinked at the easy acquiescence. “I … yes. If you think I should.”

    Michael Allen's easy-going drawl filled the office.

    So yeah, I guess this is my will. I might be updating this from time to time, but yeah … okay, then. First things first. My ute, I mean my pickup, can go to Taylor once she learns how to drive a manual. All the contents of my flat go to Gladys. She can sort out who gets what from that. Gladys, if you give my lappie to anyone, for God's sake wipe the hard drive before you do. Any money I've got left in the bank can go to a worthwhile charity. Gladys can pick that too. Or, you know, buy a pie with it.”

    Dragon paused the playback. “We're not sure about the pickup. I think it might have been destroyed.”

    The Director nodded. “Just one thing … is it just me, or does he use a lot of Britishisms?”

    Dragon smiled. “You might say that. May I continue?” At Piggot's nod, the playback picked up again.

    Okay, next thing. Don't put up a statue to me. I mean it. They never get the face right. Every statue I've ever seen looked like they desperately needed to go to the dunny. And the only thing worse than getting it wrong would be getting it right.”

    The Director frowned. “Dunny?”

    Armsmaster muttered the word; the helmet mic picked it up and did a word search, putting up the first definition that it found. “Uh, it means bathroom. In Australia, apparently.”

    “Oh. I see.” She nodded to Dragon. “Carry on.”

    Right, this next one is a biggie. Someone's gotta go to England and find a specific homeless guy. His name's Kevin Norton and he's dying of hepatitis. He's the one behind Zion being a hero instead of just moping around the place or deciding that the world would look better tied in a bow knot. He's the one who told Zion to help people, to rescue them from disasters, to fight Endbringers. The man's a friggin' hero and deserves to be treated like one.”

    Armsmaster watched the Director take a note; Dragon courteously paused the playback while she did so. “Kevin Norton, hepatitis, homeless,” she murmured. “Not much to go on.”

    “I have a few more details on Mr Norton in the files,” Dragon assured her. “I'm reasonably certain we can find the man.”

    “Good. I'll need them. Is there anything more?”

    “Just a few more bits and pieces.”

    “Play it, please.”

    In case you're wondering why I didn't have this done before, I don't want Zion getting any hints that we're moving on him. The longer he stays in the dark, the better. With luck, we'll be able to stretch it out to six months or more.”

    The Director snorted. “Well, it was a good plan while it lasted.”

    “Enough of it worked that we won,” Dragon pointed out. “And I think we're all aware of the saying regarding plans and contact with the enemy.” She paused. “This next part's for you, Director.”

    And this is for Director Piggot. When the time comes, there'll probably be people wanting to make Cauldron pay for its multiple crimes against humanity. I don't disagree, but we need to keep in mind that they were doing the best they could with what they had, not knowing what would work and what wouldn't. And in the end, what they were trying to do was save the world. Save everyone, or at least as many people as possible. What they did might make them monsters, but they were doing the wrong things for the right reasons.”

    Dragon shut off the playback. “That's basically his last will and testament. The rest is individual messages and what he insisted on calling the Security Details.”

    The Director shook her head slightly, as if in pain. “He would.”

    <><>​

    Part Two: In the Days that Followed …

    Brockton Bay PRT Headquarters
    Monday Morning, June 13, 2011


    “Congratulations. You're heroes.”

    PRT Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, impeccably business-suited, stood at the podium. Flanking her were Legend and Director Piggot.

    “Excuse me for being sceptical, my dear Ms Costa-Brown,” asked Marquis, “but what does that actually mean, in this situation?”

    The rest of the capes in the room, villains all, nodded or murmured agreement to one degree or another.

    “After all,” Marquis went on, “some of us were captured under decidedly … questionable … circumstances. You might even say that some of us were railroaded. And now you have us once more, within your base. Not quite at your mercy …” He allowed himself a small smile. “But certainly not in the best of positions.”

    Bakuda, nearby, nodded at his words. She stood alongside Lung, who was still missing an arm and an eye; the latter had a leather patch over it. “What he said,” she stated baldly. “My bombs blew the fuck out of Scion. Without me, you never would have won. Are you going to just throw us back behind bars, now that you've gotten your use out of us?”

    Costa-Brown cleared her throat, and the growing murmurs stilled. “There was a time,” she conceded, “when that may well have been the case. But I have been … convinced … to allow you a second chance.” Her voice hardened. “Do not be mistaken. Your crimes have not been pardoned. But you will not be prosecuted for them, unless you choose to reoffend. Consider yourselves to be on probation for the time being.”

    “We are criminals,” Lung stated boldly. “We made our living from being criminals. How are we to live, when you tell us we cannot do that any more? It seems to me that you are setting us up to fail.”

    Costa-Brown shook her head. “When I say that you will be getting a second chance, I mean exactly that. Those of you with frozen bank accounts will be given access to a measure of those funds. The rest will be settled with a substantial cash reward. This will give you breathing room until you can figure out what to do with yourselves.” She smiled tightly. “And if all other options fail, the PRT is always willing to hire you on in your parahuman capacity. The pay may not be as good as you might have gotten in your criminal careers, but you can definitely live on it.”

    Voices rose in the room once more, this time in surprise. Costa-Brown let it go on for a few moments, then tapped the microphone to get their attention. “You'll have time to think it over. If you choose to take up the offer of employment, see Director Piggot to schedule an interview. Otherwise, you will be allowed to go wherever you want on Earth Bet, with money to start fresh.”

    A hand was raised. “But I'm from Earth Aleph.”

    “And you're very likely to reoffend once you return.” The Chief Director's voice was grave. “I'm sorry, Perdition, but your request is denied.” She looked at the group. “I'll let you think it over. In the meantime; Accord.”

    The short grey-haired man looked up from where he had separated himself from the main body of villains. “Yes?”

    “I've been told that you have a proposal that I would be very interested in hearing about. Would you like to discuss it in private?”

    If the sliding metal leaves of the mask he wore were any indication, Accord's eyes widened just a little. “Yes. Of course.”

    He stepped forward; they left the room side by side.

    Kaiser frowned. “I wonder what that was about.”

    Lung shrugged. “Perhaps he is going to be signing up to work for the PRT?”

    “I would hardly think so,” Marquis decided. “From all accounts, he's even richer than you, Kaiser. No, there's something else going on.”

    “Who cares about that?” Crusader looked at Lung. “What I wanna know is, why are you still all banged up? The medics decide that you're not worth helping?”

    Lung chuckled. “Heh. No. I chose this.”

    At Crusader's look of confusion, Marquis sighed. “He will regenerate, and in the meantime, the women love a war hero.”

    “Hah!” Crusader slapped the ABB leader on his good shoulder. “For a slant, that's pretty savvy.”

    Lung stared him down. “Say or do that again, and no-one will ever find your remains.”

    “Right, sorry, sorry.” Crusader backed off. “So, uh, Marquis. What are you gonna be doing? Ten years in the Birdcage, you gotta have some serious catching up to do, yeah?”

    Marquis smiled. “You might say that.”

    <><>​

    Brockton Bay
    Monday Afternoon, June 13, 2011


    “So he said, we'll be barbecuing the leftover bandages.”

    Taylor chuckled. “That is kinda funny.”

    Amy leaned her elbows on the rail of the Boardwalk and looked out to sea. An onshore breeze ruffled her hair. “Yeah, but I kind of felt horrible for thinking it was funny. I mean, Mike …” Her voice choked up.

    An arm went around her shoulders, and Taylor squeezed her gently. “I know. You know he's gone, and there's a huge aching hole right there in the middle of you, where you've built up stuff around him. And then you forget for half a second, and then you remember again, and it hurts all over again.”

    “Yeah.” Amy sniffled. “It feels like I'm crumbling from the inside out.”

    “Well, we can't have that.” Taylor led her to a seat and offered her a handkerchief. “Here, blow your nose.”

    Obediently, Amy did so. “How do you deal with it?”

    Taylor shook her head. “I don't. I feel it just as badly as you do. But you know and I know that Mike wouldn't want us to be all sad and mopey. You remember what he told us?”

    “That he'd be going back to where he came from?”

    “Yeah, that. I'm choosing to believe that right now, he's back in his own world, looking down at ours. Watching to see what we do now that he's gone.”

    “Watching over us, you mean?”

    “Yeah.” Taylor tilted her head. “Yeah, that sounds about right. It's what he'd do.”

    “It does. He did enough of it while he was here.”

    They sat in silence for a while, watching the ocean. The sun glinted off of the waves, while seabirds wheeled overhead. Most of Brockton Bay hadn't been affected by the war, so life went on as normal. It was … peaceful.

    “So we're, you know, homeless now,” Taylor commented at last. “House is gone. Car's gone.”

    “You've still got money in the bank,” Amy said idly. “That's not gone.”

    “True,” admitted Taylor. “But still, you sure that you want to be adopted?”

    Amy rolled her eyes. “Well, duh. You can't get rid of me that easily. I mean, seriously, if you needed money, you could make all you want just by hiring out as a pest exterminator.”

    “Like you could by hiring out your healing services?” Taylor's voice was gently teasing.

    Amy stuck out her tongue at Taylor. But there was a thoughtful look on her face that hadn't been there before.

    <><>​

    Director Piggot's Office

    “Come in, Flechette. Sit down.”

    From the dragging of her feet, it was obvious that the girl didn't want to be there. But the habit of following orders was too strong, and so she sat.

    Emily eyed her. “Do you know why you're here?”

    A barely perceptible nod. The girl didn't look up.

    “Flechette. Sit up. Look at me. Answer the question.” She didn't shout the orders, but there was still the snap of command behind them. Reluctantly, Flechette straightened her posture and raised her head. Within her eyes, what Emily could see of them, was real, physical pain.

    “I'm here because I screwed up.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

    Well, at least she's aware of what she's done. “Yes, you did. The question is, why.”

    Flechette grimaced. “Because I – he – she – I wanted -”

    “Deep breaths.” Emily reminded herself that the cape before her was a teenager, and teenagers screw up. It was what they did. In fact, that had been a major part of the personal message from Mike Allen to her. He hadn't known what Flechette was going to do, or at least she didn't think he had, but still, he'd left that message to her. “Start again.”

    Silence fell over the office, while Flechette did as she was told. Several moments passed before the teenager spoke again. “He introduced me to, to Parian. Told us that we'd been a couple in – in the other world. She contacted me. We dated. It was nice. Really nice. I wanted to spend more time with her.”

    Emily blinked. Parian? That was one bit of information that Dragon had not revealed to her. Still, it clarified matters … a lot. “So you spent time with her instead of working with L33t, as he'd also asked you to do.” It wasn't really a question.

    Looking wretched, Flechette nodded. “He – he said we had months. I thought there was plenty of time. I did work with L33t a bit, but the guy just rubbed me the wrong way.” Her head dropped again. “But I shouldn't have done it. I screwed up.”

    “Well, at least we agree on that part.” Emily laced her fingers together on the desk before her. “The question is, what do I do with you now?”

    “I'll resign from the Wards,” Flechette mumbled. “Just leave. I got him killed. Nearly got everyone killed. I don't deserve -”

    “Stop. Look at me.”

    Flechette stopped talking and raised her head. “Director?”

    “We all screw up.” Emily's voice was flat. “I should have checked with you and L33t to make sure that the weapon design was going well. I didn't. I assumed that because I'd heard nothing in the negative, there was nothing wrong. L33t should have contacted me. He didn't. So there were screwups all round, and as the ranking officer on site, it falls on me to take the blame.”

    “But I got him killed!” Flechette's voice was a wail.

    “No. You didn't. Butcher got him killed. Zion got him killed. He went into that situation knowing he would be killed. You just failed to ensure that the rest of us were adequately armed to take Zion on, had Mike's plan failed.”

    From the look on Flechette's face, Emily's words weren't making her feel any better. Not that they were intended to do so; their intent was to apprise the girl of the reality of the situation. “So … what are you going to do with me?” The girl's face was now pale but resolute. “I'll do anything to make it right.”

    God, if only Shadow Stalker had had that attitude at any time, ever. “There is a tremendous amount of work to be done, clearing the rubble around the crater that Zion made. You will assist whenever your Wards duties permit, until it's done.”

    To her credit, Flechette did not object. “Okay.” She paused. “May I ask a question?”

    “You may.”

    “What about … what about Parian?”

    Emily's lips thinned. “She's not a Ward. Did she know that you were supposed to be meeting with L33t?”

    Hastily, Flechette shook her head. “I didn't talk about that sort of thing with her.”

    “Well, at least you showed that level of good judgement.” Though Parian may have actually told her to do what she was supposed to be doing, instead of going on dates together. We'll never know. “If she wants to help make amends, I have no objection to her assisting you in the clearing of rubble. I understand that her stuffed animals can be quite strong.”

    Flechette's face cleared dramatically. “I can ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes.”

    Emily cleared her throat. “When you're working there, you're working. No sneaking off together. No inappropriate displays of affection. This is your chance to prove that you can be responsible for your own actions. Is that perfectly understood?”

    “Yes. Ma'am. Yes, I got it. I won't let you down.”

    “See that you don't. Dismissed.”

    Emily watched her leave. It probably wouldn't hurt to schedule some therapy time for her as well …

    <><>​

    Gladys Knott's Residence

    The incessant rapping on the door finally caused Gladys to stir. She was lying on her bed, still dressed in what she had worn to Taylor's birthday party, a little mussed from the tumble she had taken through that first portal. However, she had been so shell-shocked by Mike's apparent 'death' that after she had been conveyed back to her house, she had collapsed unmoving on to the bed without even turning on the lights.

    Night had turned back to day, then day to night, and still she lay there, staring dry-eyed at the wall. She may have slept, but it didn't feel like it. Her unquiet rest was disturbed by someone knocking on the door. So far she was successfully ignoring it, just as she had ignored the ringing of the phone earlier.

    Probably someone from the school. Her overstressed mind slowly turned the thought over. Wants to know why I haven't turned up to teach class today. Didn't think they'd send someone around to the house.

    The knocking finally stopped. Good. They can leave me alone now. But then she heard the oddest noises, suggesting that someone was opening the back door. I thought I hid the key really well. Now I'm going to have to get up and tell them to leave.

    “Hello, wakey wakey. Up we get!” A blonde-haired tornado burst into her room; Gladys vaguely registered freckles and green eyes before she was unaccountably on her feet and being led into the bathroom. Before she could protest, the shower was turned on and she was shoved under the spray.

    It was freezing.

    With a squawk of protest, she tried to get out, only to be shoved back under the spray by the same blonde-haired demon. “Come on, you've got to wake up. Get moving again. We've got places to go, and we can't do that while you're still doing a zombie impression.”

    Gladys really was much more awake now; as she gathered her scattered wits, she turned the spray from 'arctic' to 'warm' and began to undress. Once her sodden clothing had been removed, she finished the shower with something approaching dignity.

    The girl didn't move from the bathroom; when Gladys stepped from the shower, she was handed a towel. “So, you awake now?” asked the girl.

    “I think so,” Gladys answered, towelling herself off. “Who are you? You're not from Winslow.”

    “Not on your life,” agreed the teenager. “My name's Lisa, and I think we have something in common.”

    “Really?” Gladys figured that she had a right to be sceptical. “And what might that be?”

    Lisa grinned smugly “We know what his real story is.”

    Gladys stared, her jaw slowly dropping.

    <><>​

    Mike's Apartment

    The lock clicked and the front door eased open. Lisa stepped through, then turned on the living room light. “Come on in. Nobody home.”

    “I still can't believe you found the key so easily,” Gladys said, following her in. “Six inches down in a rock garden at a random spot around the edge.”

    “Oh, there were clues,” Lisa told her. “But what burns my butt is this.” She held out a small square of paper, folded over a couple of times.

    Gladys took it and opened it. HI, LISA, it read, with a smiley face sticking its tongue out.

    “Hm,” she chuckled, amused. “I guess he really knew you.”

    “I hate it when someone's one step ahead of me,” Lisa groused. “And he was always there, from the time I first met him.”

    “Well, given who he was and what he knew, are you surprised?” Gladys paused. “And I know it's just a little late to be asking this, but why are we breaking into his apartment?”

    “Well, you and I both know the real truth about Mike,” Lisa pointed out. “I guessed it from context, and I'm pretty sure that he told you. There's a chance he might have left a clue about it somewhere around here, and I want to find that clue and destroy it before anyone else finds out. Because this is not the kind of knowledge that we want out there in the public domain.”

    “All right. So what do I do?” Gladys shrugged. “I'm a little new to the 'destroying important evidence' profession.”

    But Lisa had already spotted the laptop on the small table. “I'll have a look through that. You look for physical clues. Anything he might have written down.”

    “Okay, I can do that.” Gladys started poking around the living room. When she came to the shelf with the action figures, she started chuckling.

    “They're not all that funny,” Lisa murmured absently, typing rapidly on the computer. Gladys personally disagreed, but she didn't want to get into an argument with the quirky teen. Lisa, Gladys suspected, could demolish any argument that she could put forth. Still, it was nice to have something to smile at, and the thought of Mike carefully arranging the action figures in such an amusing pose lightened her heart and brought back warm memories.

    But this isn't finding any evidence that he might have left behind.

    She moved from the living room to the kitchen, checking everywhere a man might have left something that he wanted to keep secret, including the holy of holies, the top of the fridge. All she found there was enough dust to have formed its own geological strata, so she moved on to the bedroom.

    Mike was not a bed-maker, but she already knew that. There was nothing under the mattress, nor in the unlocked lock-box that sat on a shelf in his closet. She was going through the drawers in his dresser when Lisa's called out her name.

    “What's the matter?” she asked, leaning out of the bedroom doorway.

    “I need your help with the damn password, is what's the matter,” Lisa snapped. “He's not using any of the normal ones, and the hint goes 'Who was the hero?'.” I'm guessing this refers to something that you and he know about. A movie?”

    Gladys felt a smile spread across her face. It could only refer to one thing. “It was when the ABB trashed his pickup,” she explained. “I came over to cheer him up. I cooked him a meal. There was wine. He didn't have any, but -”

    “Okay, okay, I got it. You watched a movie with him, got a little drunk, felt romantic, and things went from there.” Lisa held up her hands in surrender. “I do not need to know the details. Except for one. What were you watching?”

    Her smile was nostalgic and a just little sad. “An Officer and a Gentleman.”

    “Now why does that not surprise me?” Lisa typed rapidly; the screen changed and she was in. “Good god, does the man ever clean up his desktop?”

    Gladys barely heard the question. She didn't have any powers, but one folder jumped out at her. It was titled 'Gladys'. “There. Click that one.”

    “Sure thing.” Lisa clicked it. It held several files. One was called 'In the Event of my Untimely Death'. Others had names on them; 'Piggot', 'Danny', 'Mrs Yamada', 'Lisa' and 'Gladys', among others. And then there was the one called 'Da Book'. It was much larger than the others.

    Lisa drew in a deep breath; Gladys reminded herself to breathe as well. “Fuckin' jackpot.”

    <><>​

    'In the Event' turned out to be a will, or rather, notes for one. Taylor was to get his pickup, he didn't want a statue … and Gladys was to get all of his worldly goods in the apartment, and give them to those people she thought needed them. There was also something about Cauldron, but Gladys didn't read very far into it; she was still stunned that Mike had thought so much of her that he would give her this responsibility.

    “Well, who else is he gonna get to do it?” Lisa asked rhetorically. “I saw you two together a couple of times -”

    “I didn't see you,” Gladys protested.

    Lisa looked smug. “You weren't supposed to. But you looked way cute. He trusted you. Trusts you. No matter how the narrative turns out.” There it was. The implicit agreement that yes, they both believed that they were living in a story. Gladys didn't feel like a fictional character but then, she didn't know how a fictional character was supposed to feel.

    “I … right.” Gladys looked around at the apartment. “Can you help me? I wouldn't know where to start.”

    “Sure,” Lisa agreed. “In a minute. I want to check out this one called 'Da Book'. Maybe it's our story. The one he was writing.”

    Suddenly very intensely curious, Gladys leaned in beside the teen as she clicked on the file. For a long moment, it didn't look as though anything was happening, then the file opened.

    Class ended in five minutes and all I could think was, an hour is too long for lunch.

    Gladys read on, her eyes growing wider as she grasped the narrative. “That's -”

    “Yeah.” Lisa's voice was flat. “The original story. This is where we came from.”

    “But … but from what he told me, it was enormous. There's no way he would have been able to remember it all. Or type it all up. Not in the last couple of months.”

    “I think he had his brain upgraded,” Lisa told her. “By Riley. He was showing signs of a greatly improved memory. And as for this, I suspect that he may have abbreviated things, leaving out irrelevant details.”

    Gladys didn't answer. She reached past Lisa, scrolling down as she read. The tale, as told from Taylor's point of view, of the ambush in the bathroom. Where she and Mike had come in, saving the day. But of course, in this story it didn't happen that way.

    Lisa was rummaging in a drawer. Gladys frowned. “What are you doing?”

    “Gotta save this,” Lisa replied. “I have to read the whole thing. I need to know how it plays out. Don't you?”

    Slowly, Gladys shook her head. “No. I don't. I think it should be destroyed. Wondering about what may have been is a good way to go mad or second-guess yourself.”

    “That sounds like something Mike would say.” Lisa found a USB stick and popped it into the computer. In a few moments, the contents of the folder had found their way on to the small drive.

    “I think he might have,” Gladys agreed.

    “Thought so. Want a copy?”

    Gladys grimaced. “Just of the message he left for me, thanks.” She had no desire to read other peoples' mail.

    “Suit yourself.” Lisa tapped the laptop with one fingernail. “And what about this?”

    She didn't get what Lisa meant. “What about it?”

    “If I can get into it, so can other people. We're gonna need to wipe it clean. And I mean clean.

    Given the nature of data storage technology, Gladys knew full well that a good enough tech could coax any file off of even a 'wiped' drive. “I'm not sure if that's possible. The PRT almost certainly has a cape on speed dial who can unwipe anything.”

    Lisa grinned. “Pretty sure I can handle that. I just need your permission to destroy some of this stuff he's left for you.”

    Gladys grimaced. “Very well. You have it.”

    <><>​

    They watched as the microwave platter slowly revolved. Inside, the laptop hard drive sputtered and sparked under the assault of the high-intensity radiation.

    “And that'll destroy it?” asked Gladys.

    Lisa grinned. “Destroy it? That'll melt it.”

    “Ah. Good.” Gladys closed her hand around the USB drive that Lisa had given her. On it was not only the message Mike had left for her, but also a selection of other files from the laptop's hard drive, things that Mike had written. She would read them later, in private, where nobody could see her cry.

    <><>​

    L33t's Workshop
    Wednesday, June 15, 2011


    “L33t? May I have a word?”

    The Tinker looked up from his workbench in some surprise. There, standing at the door, was a gorgeous redhead. She stepped into the workshop, looking around with a great deal of interest.

    There were two things wrong with this picture. The first was that gorgeous redheads, or women of any hair colour, really, did not make a habit of popping into L33t's workshop on a whim. The second was that this was a secret workshop.

    “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you want? How did you find me?”

    She stepped closer. “Relax,” she advised him. “Unclench. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to hire you. Mom sent me.”

    “And who's your mother?” He scanned the bench for a weapon, just in case she attacked him anyway.

    “Dragon, duh.”

    That got his attention. He stared at her; the flawless complexion, the long red hair, the tiny mole beside her left eye … “Uh, if this is about the thing with Flechette, she kept ducking out on me. I meant to get it done a lot sooner.”

    “This is nothing to do with that,” she told him. “But you did good work, so Mom sent me to see if you could make something else for us.”

    “I, uh, okay.” He stared, still trying to get his head around the idea. The rumour was that Dragon was an unfettered AI, and that she'd had kids of a sort. Junior versions of herself. If this was one, then she was really, really good at pretending to be human.

    “Hey.” Her voice was amused. “I'll let you have a look at my schematics later, but for now you're gonna have to pay attention.”

    “Oh. Right. Sorry.” He dragged his gaze back to her face. “Uh, what was your name again?”

    She grinned. “Call me Pandora. I've got a thing I'd like you to build. To mimic a specific power.”

    “Uh, okay. What does this power do? Actually, better yet, bring the cape in and I'll study the power directly.”

    “Well, there's the tricky part. This cape doesn't exist. He would have triggered after Leviathan hit the city. I'm going off of a description of what he would have been able to do.”

    L33t was starting to get his composure back. This was starting to sound like a challenge. Bring it. “Okay, so what does this power do?”

    “Well, as far as we understand it …”

    <><>​

    Brockton Bay
    The Crater
    Thursday, June 16, 2011


    The four-armed gorilla braced itself, then heaved the chunk of rubble out of the ground. Turning, it knuckle-walked toward the waiting truck and threw the rubble into the back.

    Flechette moved closer to Parian. “Thanks for coming to help out.”

    Parian didn't look at her. “I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because it needs to be done.”

    “Yeah, but …” Lily swallowed. “I'm sorry. I screwed up.”

    “No, you didn't just screw up,” Parian told her, while the oversized stuffed toy lumbered back to the pile of rubble. “You screwed up and got me dragged into it. Now the PRT knows that you were coming to see me when you should have been working with L33t.”

    “I told them that you didn't know,” Lily said desperately. “I didn't want you getting into trouble.”

    “Oh, I'm not in trouble,” Sabah went on remorselessly. “But I was somewhat shocked to find out that you were supposed to be doing something else while you were seeing me.”

    “They didn't think you -” began Lily.

    “No, thank God,” Parian sighed. “You obviously put them straight about that.”

    “Well, I didn't want you getting into trouble as well.”

    “Which I do appreciate. But seriously, it was a massively irresponsible thing to do. And now that they know about us, if you slip up in any way, they're likely to blame our relationship. And I might be a rogue, but I do not need the PRT deciding that I'm a bad influence on one of their Wards. There's all sorts of ways they can make my life difficult if they so choose.”

    “Oh, god,” Lily's voice was as hopeless as she felt. “You're breaking up with me, aren't you?”

    Parian gave her a long, level stare. “The PRT would probably be happier if I did,” she stated at last. “But I don't want to. So I'm not going to. But we're going to have to make some changes to our relationship.”

    Flechette swallowed. “Changes?”

    “Yes, changes.” Sabah folded her arms. “First things first. If there's anything – anything – you need to do before we can do stuff together, we do your stuff first. We don't just drop everything and go and see a movie until you're done.”

    “Um, okay.” Flechette would have agreed to giving Sabah foot rubs every time she saw her. Actually, that's not a bad idea.

    “Next thing – if you've got to go do something, maybe you should ask yourself if I might want to come along. You know, for the company.”

    Lily blinked. “You would have been okay with that?”

    She couldn't see Sabah's face behind the doll mask, but she could imagine the rolling of those soft brown eyes. “Well, yes. It would have been time spent with you. And then we could've gone to the movies.”

    Flechette slumped. “I'm an idiot, aren't I?”

    “Well, yes, a bit, but you're my idiot.”

    <><>​

    Friday, June 17, 2011

    Danny pulled the rental car to a halt in the motel parking lot. The PRT was footing the bill for both the car and the motel until he and Taylor could find somewhere else to live, but this didn't mean that he could slack off. With the worldwide news that the Endbringers were no longer a threat, the economy was even now showing an uptick, and he fully intended for the Dockworkers to be in a position to take advantage of it.

    As he walked up to the motel door, he noticed with a frown that it was ajar. With an aggravated sigh, he pushed it open. “Taylor,” he called out. “When you come in, could you make sure -”

    He stopped dead. The person sitting in one of the two armchairs was most definitely not Taylor.

    “Come in,” invited Marquis. “Sit down.”

    Danny blinked. “Uh – what are you doing here?”

    The villain smiled disarmingly. “I don't intend to harm you. I just wish to talk about Amelia.”

    Slowly, carefully, Danny sat down in the other armchair. “What about her?”

    “Well, for a start, you are aware that she is my biological daughter, correct?”

    “I did know that, yes.” Danny nodded. “Is there a problem here?”

    Marquis tilted his head. “Well, now that I am a free man, I would very much rather that she be given the choice to get to know her father once more. In my place, wouldn't you?”

    “I do see your point, yes,” agreed Danny. “However …”

    “However?” Marquis' voice was silky, but there was undoubtedly steel underneath.

    Danny chose his words carefully. “However, she does have the choice herself. She's sixteen. Also, Flashbang has given his permission for me to adopt her. Plus, she and Taylor are very attached to one another. So it might not be as cut and dried as you might have originally thought.”

    “Hmm.” Marquis rubbed his neatly trimmed beard. “Your points are valid. However, if I do ask her, and she chooses me, you will not object?”

    “It's her choice.” Danny shrugged. “I just want her to be happy. She's really a sweet kid.”

    “I agree. It has always been in her nature.”

    <><>​

    “Hey, Dad!” called out Taylor as she pushed the motel door open, “guess what? We were down on the Boardwalk, and we saw some capes flying over the Boat Graveyard. I think they – whoa.” She stopped so suddenly that Amy nearly ran into her.

    “Hey, watch it, doofus,” the frizzy-haired girl told her. “People walking here.”

    “Uh, sorry,” Taylor apologised, not taking her eyes off the visitor. She had never met him before, but she was definitely familiar with Marquis' features. Once she had found out that he was Amy's father, they had gone online together, just to see what he looked like.

    These days, bugs were never far away. She began to gather a swarm.

    “Hey, wait,” Amy said, stepping around her. “You're -”

    “Indeed I am, little Amelia,” Marquis agreed, standing up. “Well, not so little any more. You've grown since I last saw you.”

    “What are you doing here?” asked Amy. She looked at Danny. “Is everything okay?”

    “I'm fine,” Danny assured her. “We've only been talking.”

    “So what do you want?” asked Taylor, stepping protectively closer to her father. The dots were easy enough to connect. “It's about Amy, isn't it?”

    “What do you want with me?” asked Amy, also stepping closer to Danny.

    “Nothing untoward,” Marquis promised. “I merely wish to talk with you.”

    “Is that it?” asked Amy. “Just to talk?”

    “Well, yes,” Marquis agreed. He looked at Taylor and Danny. “Would you mind giving us some privacy?”

    Danny began to get up, but Amy shook her head. “No,” she stated firmly. “They stay. Anything you've got to say to me, they can hear too.”

    Arching one eyebrow, Marquis nodded. “Very well. If you wish.”

    “That's what I wish,” Amy said. “So what did you want to say to me?”

    “I just wanted to say that have missed you so much. You've grown into a fine young woman. Your mother would be proud.”

    Amy frowned. “Who was she? My mother, I mean. Is she still alive?”

    Marquis tilted his head. “What, they didn't tell you?”

    “Who, Carol and Mark? No. Did you tell them before they sent you to prison?”

    “Ah -” Marquis paused. “No, actually, I don't believe that I did. She was a young lady with whom I shared a rather passionate relationship for a while -”

    “Whoa, whoa, time out,” Taylor objected. “Minors here. Adults talking about passionate relationships is well into TMI. Just saying.”

    “What she said,” Amy added. “Okay, this lady. You and her, we got it. Her name? Where she lives? Or is she a supervillain too?”

    Sorrowfully, Marquis shook his head. “She is, sadly, deceased. Cancer took her away, around your fifth birthday. We had been separated for some time. I had not known she was pregnant, and she chose not to tell me. It was only when she was close to the end that she contacted me.” He paused. “Do you remember nothing of her?”

    “Do you remember your fifth birthday?” retorted Amy. “Sorry, no. I don't even remember you.”

    “Ah.” Marquis sighed sadly. “Her name was Helena Lavere. I had not expected to be a father all of a sudden, but I have to say, the year in which I got to know you was the happiest of my life.”

    “And then you were arrested and went to prison.” Amy's voice was flat. “And I became Amy Dallon.”

    “Which raises the question,” Marquis said. “You grew up with the Dallons, but now you wish to be adopted by the Heberts. Why?”

    “Many reasons,” Amy told him. “None of which are in any way your business.”

    “But I'm your father,” he urged her. “Surely I deserve to know.”

    “You might be my father, but you're not my dad,” she pointed out.

    “Well, hardly,” he agreed. “You haven't given me the chance.”

    She considered that. “Fine. I didn't like living with the Dallons. I do like living with the Heberts. They might not be a family of superheroes, but we do fun things together.”

    That's technically true, Taylor thought. One out of two doesn't make us a family of superheroes. Though with Amy it would make us two out of three.

    “That sounds eminently reasonable,” he admitted. “However, I wish to ask you if you would be willing to acknowledge me as your father once more. In a legal sense, that is.”

    “Wait, what now?” Amy shook her head. “You want to … what would you call it? Claim me? Re-adopt me? How does this even work?”

    “I will confess that I have not yet looked into the legal minutiae of the process,” Marquis admitted. “But it certainly won't go anywhere without your agreement.”

    Taylor raised her chin. “There's also that bit about you being a criminal,” she pointed out. “Amy's a superhero. This might make it a bit harder.”

    Marquis smiled tightly. “I participated in the battle against Zion,” he replied. “That gave all of us a pass. I'm a free man now. Slate wiped clean.”

    “Mike told me a little about you,” Amy said. “He said that you never hurt a woman or a child. You never ran drugs.”

    “Well, then.” Marquis' voice was pleased. “I wish I'd had the chance to meet the man, and shake his hand.”

    “He also said,” Amy went on, “that you had the delightful habit of murdering any of your henchmen who let you down. They were never seen again.”

    “He does seem to have been very well-informed.” Marquis didn't sound as pleased now. “But all of that is in the past. You can be certain that I will be under extremely close scrutiny, as will all of the other Birdcage parolees. Any attempt to return to my previous life of crime would undoubtedly result in a re-introduction to the prison system and then the Birdcage in very short order.”

    “I dislike the idea of Amy going to live with you for several reasons,” Danny stated firmly.

    Marquis raised a cultured eyebrow. “Name them.”

    “As Taylor said, you're a criminal.”

    “Reformed until proven otherwise.”

    “You have nowhere to live, no way to support her.”

    A faint smile. “Don't be so sure.” A gesture at the motel room. “In any case, the same could be said about you.”

    “She and Taylor have grown close. You wouldn't separate her from her best friend.”

    “Who said anything about separating them?” Marquis shrugged. “I wish her all the luck with her friends. We need as many as we can get in today's world.”

    Danny frowned, frustrated. “She doesn't know you. She knows us.”

    Marquis spread his hands. “Easily remedied by spending time with me.”

    Heaving an aggravated sigh, Danny turned to Amy. “Okay, here's the question. Do you want to go back to Marquis?”

    She'll never say yes.

    For the longest moment, Amy hesitated. “I … if it was anyone but you guys, I'd probably pick him,” she admitted. “Mike also told me about the princess costume and the tea parties.” She turned to Marquis. “I can tell that you really want to be my dad.”

    “But … ?” he prompted.

    “But it's been ten years. I'm not six any more. I'm sixteen. Right now, Mrs Yamada says I need stability in my life.”

    “And Mrs Yamada is …?”

    “My therapist.” She said it simply, with no particular embarrassment. “She's very good at what she does, and she cares. So if she says I need stability, I need stability. And I can't help but think that you haven't had the chance to learn what it's like to live with a teenage girl. There would be problems. Adjustments to be made.”

    “Three hour showers, and the beeper on the fridge going off at all hours,” put in Danny dryly. “Because teenagers love their midnight snacks.” She poked her tongue out at him.

    “So we can make those adjustments,” Marquis urged. “It can't be so hard.”

    Taylor caught her father's eye and they both chuckled at the same time. Marquis looked at them, then back at Amy, who was also now grinning. “What's so funny?”

    “If you don't know, then explaining it isn't going to help,” she said obscurely.

    He frowned. “That doesn't make any sense.”

    “Welcome to the world of teenage girls,” Danny told him cheerfully. “I raised Taylor, and I still feel horribly inadequate for the job on occasion.”

    “It's true,” Taylor added. “Amy and I hit it off almost from the start, but we still had our rough patches. We got over them, though.”

    Marquis sighed. “So that's a no, then.”

    “Yeah, that's a no,” Amy confirmed. “But I'll still visit, if you want. We can get to know each other again. Just not living in the same house.”

    Marquis was not a man used to being told 'no', Taylor could tell. But he was also apparently quite good at adapting to changing circumstances. By the time Amy finished speaking, he was nodding in agreement.

    “I suppose that's the best I'll be able to get for the moment,” he said. “In the meantime, how are you off financially? Do you need any assistance?”

    That earned him a slow double blink from Danny, and stunned looks from the two girls.

    “ … what?” Danny sounded as though he wasn't sure what to make of the statement. “You're offering to help us?”

    Give us money to make Amy like you more? But Taylor didn't voice the suspicion.

    “I did imply that I am not cash-poor,” Marquis pointed out. “If Amelia isn't going to be living with me, I'm willing to help out with living expenses.”

    “Wait, where are you even getting this money from?” asked Taylor. “Don't they freeze the bank accounts of convicted criminals or something?”

    “Why yes, they do,” Marquis admitted. “However, given my contributions to the war effort, they unfroze some of my previous savings, and I also have some long-term investments that I can dip into. I'm willing to assist you in your living expenses until you can get back on your feet.”

    Danny shook his head. “I'm not taking your money. I don't take charity, and I don't do loans if I can possibly help it.”

    “Very well, let's call it … hmm.” Marquis considered. “'Child support' should do. After all, Amelia is my child, and I would like to give her money so that she can support herself.”

    “Okay, suppose you do this,” Amy said. “Would I then be obligated to visit you more often?”

    Marquis looked pained. “No. I give you my word that there would be no such strings attached.” He smiled disarmingly. “I would not object to spending more time with you, but neither will I demand such. You are justifiably dubious about my motives; after all, I was a notorious villain. And I know enough about teenagers to be aware that if I tried to push the issue, you would push back.”

    Amy nodded. “I know what Taylor's allowance is. I'll accept that much.”

    “You don't have to -” began Taylor.

    “Actually, yeah, I do,” Amy told her. “I'm not gonna accept more allowance than you, even if it's a freebie.” She turned to Danny. “And I do actually have an idea how tightly stretched we are. So yeah, I'll do this, to give you a little breathing space.”

    “How selfless of you,” Marquis commented with a twinkle in his eye. “If I didn't know for a fact that you're my daughter, I'd be having my doubts about now.”

    Amy shrugged. “I suppose that's something to be said for growing up in a house full of superheroes. You get the 'we strive toward the greater good' speech on a regular basis.”

    “Really?” asked Taylor. “Who gave you that one? Brandish or Flashbang?”

    “Actually, Vicky,” snorted Amy. “She lives that sort of thing.” Her mouth quirked. “Though I really shouldn't make fun of her. She did tackle Zion off of me.”

    “For which I will be forever grateful,” Marquis said. “I understand that Golem also had a hand in the matter.”

    “Yeah,” Taylor agreed, then stopped herself. “I'd really like to thank him, whoever he is.”

    “I think so too,” Danny agreed. “Maybe Amy could invite him over for dinner or something?”

    Amy grinned slyly. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Doesn't it, Taylor? You'd get to meet a real live superhero.”

    As tempted as she was to make a very rude gesture in Amy's direction, Taylor chose not to. This is more than the secret identity thing, like it was with Chris. She knows we both know each other. There's something deeper going on, something I don't know about. Whatever it is, she finds it very amusing. And she knows I'm not about to out myself in front of Marquis. “Maybe.”

    It seemed that the ex-villain was just as perceptive as Taylor. “Is there a joke going on here that I don't know about?”

    Taylor was pretty sure that Danny wasn't in on whatever Amy was smiling about, but he played along anyway, rolling his eyes. “You may recall we were talking about teenage girls? Welcome to my world.”

    “I see.” Marquis' voice was dry as he got up out of the armchair. “Well, then, I shall take my leave. I'll be in touch, Danny. See you later, Amelia. Miss Hebert.” A nod to Taylor, and he walked toward the door.

    They watched him open it and walk out; it was only when the door clicked shut behind him that Taylor let herself relax. “Holy crap,” she muttered. “Did he threaten you at all, Dad?”

    “No, not at all,” Danny told her. “I've been in union meetings that were uglier than that. For the most part we talked about the ferry and the Boat Graveyard.”

    “It sounds like you liked the man,” Taylor said, just a little disbelievingly. “He's a criminal, for crying out loud.”

    Danny chuckled. “Some of the people I've had to work with around the city skate pretty close to that line themselves. He's very likeable. And once I got past the murderous-supervillain aspect, it turned out that he has some interesting views.”

    Taylor shook her head. “I just don't like that we're associating with him at all.” She turned to Amy. “You're really going to be taking his money?”

    Amy shrugged. “It'll be helping you guys out, and it's not like he'll actually have a hold over me with it. I'll actually be saving most of it for later.”

    “Well, just be careful, okay?” Taylor put an arm around her shoulders. “I mean, I know he's your dad and all, but -”

    Amy shook her head. “That's not my dad. He's my dad.” She pointed at Danny, who looked absurdly pleased.

    Taylor hugged Amy more tightly. “Darn right.”

    That was when they heard the knock on the door.

    <><>​

    He's come back to claim Amy once and for all. Danny knew – or thought he knew – the fear was groundless, but a chill still went down his back. “He's not back, is he?”

    Taylor shook her head. “No, he's in his car, at the end of the block. Waiting at the lights.”

    “Then who's that at the door?”

    Amy crossed to the door and peered through the peephole. “Oh. It's Vicky.”

    Danny shared a glance with Taylor. He remembered all too well the events at the party. Amy's shoulders still held bruising from Vicky's grip. But she had, by all accounts, acquitted herself well in the battle.

    Amy glanced over her shoulder, just as the knock came again. “Do we let her in?”

    “Well, it's not like we can keep her out,” Danny pointed out. “Let's see what she wants.”

    Amy nodded and unlocked the door. “Hi,” she said to the blonde waiting on the doorstep.

    “Hi, Ames,” Vicky replied. “Don't worry. Not here to bust up the place.”

    Danny nodded. “Well, in that case, come on in. How can we help you?”

    Vicky entered; she was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, with brightly coloured sneakers. “I came to apologise. I was a jerk.”

    Once again, Danny and Taylor shared a glance. Danny cleared his throat. “That's very responsible of you. Though I am curious. What brought this on?”

    Vicky grimaced. “Yesterday. After I left. I was so mad about it. Telling myself that it was somebody else's fault. I wasn't in the wrong. I couldn't be in the wrong. But then Scion blew up the house and I thought you were dead, Ames. I looked for you. You were just gone.”

    “Mike pulled us out, just in time,” Amy said quietly. “He took a hit that would have cut me in half.”

    A tight-lipped nod. “Yeah, I found that out later. So I was trying to rescue the survivors around the edge, because that's what you'd have done. When you lose someone you took for granted, it's amazing how much it hurts, and how the little stuff didn't really matter, when it's all said and done.” She glanced at Danny. “You know what I mean?”

    Danny nodded slowly, recalling Annette. “Yes. I know.”

    She refocused on Amy. “So yeah, I got a whole new perspective right then. Cleaning up someone else's mess, without you to backstop me. I saw it all in a totally new light, and I realised where I went wrong. I finally got why you kept on getting pissed off with me.” She walked over and gave her sister a hug. “It was like one of those, what do you call 'em …”

    “Epiphanies,” Taylor supplied, her voice quiet.

    “Yeah, them. Epiphanies.” Vicky turned to Taylor. “Look, I'm sorry I wrecked your party, and I'm really sorry I went off the deep end and hurt Mike.”

    “It wasn't as bad as it seemed,” Danny put in. “But the fact remains that you were wrong to do it.”

    “I know!” Vicky clenched one hand in the other. “Especially after I heard what he did. I just attacked him for something that was bullshit, and then he went and did … that.” She hung her head. “I feel like total shit.”

    Danny could feel Vicky's aura pulsing. With the emotions the blonde was feeling, it should have been flaring, but Vicky was actually working to hold it in. I'm impressed.

    “You're really sincere, aren't you?” Amy put her arms around Vicky and gave her a hug.

    “Yeah. I am. Can you ever forgive me?”

    Amy rolled her eyes. “Sisters, remember?”

    “But you're getting adopted by Taylor's dad, aren't you?”

    “And? You'll always be my sister.”

    “Dammit, don't make me cry.” Vicky sniffled slightly. “There was something else I wanted to say.”

    “What's that?”

    “Your therapy sessions. That invite still open to sit in?”

    Amy stood back with her hands on Vicky's shoulders. “Wow. You are serious.”

    Vicky nodded. “Well, yeah. If I'd actually taken you up on the offer then, I wouldn't have been blindsided so badly at the party, yeah?”

    “Yeah, well.” Amy rested her forehead against Vicky's. “Not blaming you, mind.”

    Danny knew what they weren't saying. Carol was against it, so nobody went.

    “Yeah, no, I got that. I might even see if I can drag Dad along.”

    Amy smiled. “I think that'll be a really good start.”

    Vicky checked her watch. “Well, I've gotta get going, but let me know when the next session is and I'll be there.”

    “Okay, sure.” Amy paused. “And Vicky?”

    “Yeah?” The blonde superhero stopped at the door.

    “When you came out of nowhere and barrelled Zion into the wall? That was some kinda badass, right there.”

    Vicky grinned. “I know, right?” She opened the door and stepped out; it closed behind her.

    “Well.” Danny leaned back in the armchair. “That happened.”

    “Is it just me, or has she really changed?” asked Taylor.

    Amy nodded. “I really think she has.” She smiled. “I think I'm looking forward to the next session.”

    “If nothing else,” Taylor said, “it'll be interesting.”

    Danny nodded. She's probably right, at that.


    Epilogue One: Continued
     
    Last edited: May 25, 2016
  5. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    So many feels, and loose ends getting tied up. Well done!
     
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  6. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Yeah, well, I originally intended for both epilogues to be contained in the one story post. Said post blew out past 20K, with the end still a ways away. So I decided to post part of what I had, and keep writing.
     
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  7. Zackarix

    Zackarix Hera's Divorce Lawyer

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    This part of Worm has always bothered me. Amy was supposed to be around five or six when she was adopted by the Dallons, right? That's not a toddler, that's old enough to be in kindergarten or first grade. She should have some memories of her biological parents, even if they aren't very clear. I understand that some people remember their early childhood better than others, but I have a few memories from when I was two, so I find it hard to believe that a school-aged child would remember nothing of their pre-adoption life.

    Not aimed at you, Ack, you're just following the canon. It's just a pet peeve of mine.
     
  8. godzillahomer

    godzillahomer Know what you're doing yet?

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  9. Prince Charon

    Prince Charon Just zis guy, you know?

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    I always thought that there was more to it, and Wildbow just forgot to elaborate or follow up.

    EDIT: Alternatively, Wildbow has an unusually bad memory of his early childhood, and thinks it's normal for a five or six year old to recall little or nothing of being that age. For myself, I have a few fragmentary memories of things that happened when I was about two.
     
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  10. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Canonically, Amy vaguely knew that she was adopted, and maybe that he was a supervillain, but no idea who her birth father was until she found out.

    I find it hard to believe that she would never have encountered a picture of Marquis in ten years of living in a superhero household.

    I have memories of being five. I have no idea who the people I knew then were, save for my family. I couldn't even describe their faces.
     
  11. theonebutcher

    theonebutcher Hahaha! ... Waitaminute... Oh God NO!

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    Idiot, now we know how I, Panacea got started.
     
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  12. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Security!

    Epilogue One (continued)


    Part Three: In the Weeks and Months That Followed …

    PRT HQ Brockton Bay
    Monday, June 20, 2011


    “He's gone. He's really gone.”

    Riley looked like hell. She hadn't brushed her hair in days, so that it hung in ratty tangles. It was obvious that she hadn't been sleeping well either, judging from the large dark bags under her eyes. She didn't even look up at Theo as she spoke, her voice a dull mumble.

    “Hey. Hey hey hey.” He crossed to where she sat in her office chair. Even her desk, normally immaculate, was a mess. Papers were strewn all over, a coffee cup lay in pieces under a mark on the wall, and someone had impaled several papers to the wooden desk via a large syringe. “I'm still here. You've still got friends.”

    “But Mike's dead!” Her voice rose to a wail, tears beginning to start down her cheeks. “What am I supposed to do now?”

    “What the rest of us have to do.” He knelt beside her chair and put his arms around her. She didn't resist, and after a few moments, he felt her arms creep around him. “We have to go on. He didn't do all this for us just so we could screw up his legacy once he was gone.”

    Her head came to rest on his shoulder and she sniffled. “I guess not. I'm just not used to caring for someone so much. Not since Jack showed me how stupid it was to care for my parents.”

    “That's not stupid,” he told her firmly. “It's never stupid to care.”

    She pulled back a little so that she could look directly at him. “You told me your father's a total jerk. In lots of ways.”

    “Well, yeah, he is,” Theo admitted. “Okay, I don't really care for him. But Kayden is different. She married Kaiser after Mom died, but she still cares for me. And I care for her. And I really care for Aster. She's my sister and I'll protect her every chance I get.”

    Riley giggled, a little damply. “You're gonna be that scary older brother type, aren't you?”

    He grinned in reply. “In a heartbeat.”

    She sighed. “I wish my older brother was here to do that for me.”

    “I can do that,” Theo told her promptly. “Who do you want beaten up? I'll beat him up for you.”

    That startled a laugh out of her. “Well, I don't actually want anyone beaten up, but … visits and hugs might be nice.”

    “I can do that too.” Theo pondered for a moment. “I know that Mrs Yamada's really busy right now, but I'll ask her if she can't make some time in her schedule for you. Because I think you really need it.”

    “Oh, god,” Riley blurted. “And let her see me like this?” She looked down at herself; for the first time, Theo realised that she apparently hadn't changed clothing since the battle with Zion. Or, by the smell of it, bathed.

    “Well, I personally think that she won't judge, but it probably wouldn't hurt to have a shower and clean the place up a little.” Theo grinned and held his nose theatrically. “Pee-yew.”

    Riley looked around for something to throw at him, settling for a piece of paper that she first crumpled into a ball. “That's not nice.”

    “Sometimes big brothers have gotta say things that aren't nice,” he pointed out as the paper bounced off his chest and joined the mess on the floor. “Oh. And something else I was gonna say.”

    “What's that?” He had her fully engaged now.

    “I've been invited to dinner with Taylor and Amy and their dad. I'm pretty sure they'd be okay with me bringing you along. Wanna come?”

    Her eyes dropped for a moment. “I dunno …”

    “Come on, Riley. Work with me here.”

    She heaved a sigh. “Okay. It'll be nice to see big sis Amy again. Sure, I'll come.”

    His broad smile lit up the office. “Awesome. Come on, I'll help you clean up the place.”

    “Careful with the papers,” she warned him. “I have my own system.”

    “So I see.” His voice was very dry.

    She stuck out her tongue at him.

    <><>​

    L33t's Workshop
    Thursday, June 23, 2011


    “So, is it finished?”

    L33t held up the device; it looked like an ungainly blaster rifle from any one of a dozen science-fiction shows. That is to say, typical Tinker tech. “As best as I can manage. Haven't tested it yet, of course.”

    “So what's it supposed to do?” asked Über.

    “The power's from a cape who doesn't exist yet,” explained Pandora.

    “Which didn't help at all in the design phase,” L33t groused.

    She grinned at him. “You know you love a challenge.” Turning to Über, she continued with her explanation. “It swaps a chunk of this universe with the same block of space from another one. So for all intents and purposes, it looks like it disintegrates whatever you're targeting.”

    Über's eyes narrowed. “I don't get it. If it swaps stuff, wouldn't you get the stuff from the other side? Why does it look like it's disintegrating stuff?”

    “Because it's another universe,” explained L33t. “Another Earth. Things aren't the same there. I mean, local geography, sure. Trees in unpopulated areas, probably. But a building here wouldn't be in the same place as in, say, Earth Aleph. So if I pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger, a chunk of our wall would be replaced by whatever's in the universe it's swapping with, which is probably empty air.”

    “Which makes it look like it's disintegrating stuff,” Über said, comprehension dawning on his face. “I get it now. Christ. That sounds like a horrific weapon. Manton limited?”

    “The original power wasn't,” Pandora told him. “But it's not a weapon. It's a tool. We're not going to be killing people with it. We're going to be helping people.”

    “I'm still not sure how,” L33t said. “But the payment cleared. Here's your swappy-gun thing.” He held it out to her.

    “Swappy-gun thing?” Über shook his head. “Dude, we have to talk about your naming techniques.”

    Pandora hefted the device. “Before I take it, I'd like to test it out. Got someplace I could do that?”

    L33t nodded, ignoring his partner's comment. “Sure. Out the back. It's only got a range of ten feet, so it's not like we're going to be disturbing the neighbours.”

    “And the size of the chunk?” asked Pandora, following him out through the back door.

    “One foot diameter,” he said. “That's what you wanted, right?”

    “Right,” she agreed. “Okay, how does it work?”

    “Point the muzzle at the target you want to use it on.” L33t pointed at a switch on the side. “That lights up three targeting lasers. When they intersect on the same point, that's ten feet away. Pull the trigger to make it go zap.”

    “Make it go zap?” muttered Über.

    “Shut up,” L33t told him without heat. “I built it; I can call it what I like.”

    The back yard was about thirty by thirty feet, stacked here and there with piles of junk, or what L33t called 'spare parts'. Pandora took aim at what appeared to be half a car axle and flipped the switch on the side. Three dots appeared on the end of the axle; she swung the device until the dots merged into one. “Firing now,” she warned L33t.

    However, when she pressed the trigger, nothing happened. She held her aim, then pressed the trigger again. “It doesn't appear to be working,” she observed.

    “Uh oh,” muttered Über, taking a step back.

    “What do you mean, 'uh oh'?” demanded L33t. “Just because something doesn't work on the very first try doesn't mean that it's going to automatically blow up.”

    “No, but it normally does,” Über reminded him, retreating to the door.

    “Uh, now it's starting to vibrate. And whine a little.” Pandora stared at the device in her hands. “Should I be doing something?”

    L33t took a step toward her. “Is the whine steadily increasing in pitch and frequency?”

    “Yes, I think it is.”

    His voice was filled with forced calm. “Drop it and run. Now.”

    The rising pitch of the whine became an ear-splitting screech; Pandora tossed it toward the midle of the yard and bolted toward the door. Über was already back in the workshop; L33t was halfway through the door when Pandora tackled him inside. They were still skidding across the floor when there was an almost soundless whoomph from the back yard.

    L33t disentangled himself from Pandora and sat up, looking toward the back door. It wasn't there; nor was a curved section of the floor, along with a mostly-circular section of wall. Climbing to his feet, L33t stumbled toward the hole in the wall. The back yard was still mostly there, but it was almost unrecognisable. Part of the trunk of a large tree, cut off on a perfectly spherical boundary, was surrounded by a circle of leaf litter, along with vines and a few fallen branches. Writhing in the middle of it all was a snake.

    Well … part of a snake. The middle part, to be exact. The area that had been excised was more than twenty feet across, and the snake had been much longer than that. It was also thicker through the body than even Über, which was kind of a frightening thought. He was abruptly glad that the head had not been brought through.

    “Well, okay then,” Über said, joining him. “It looks like we definitely get stuff back from the other universe. Wonderful.”

    “Well, rewrite my code and call me Aunt Sally.” Pandora stared at the greenery and the oversized section of snake. “That was not on the list of things I might have expected to happen.”

    “Yeah,” L33t admitted weakly. “The trouble is, we can't really detect what's on the other side before we do the swap.”

    “And now the swappy-gun thing is now in the other universe along with your bits of scrap, isn't it?” asked Über.

    “Spare parts, but yes,” said L33t. “I have no idea where it even went. Given the nature of the local wildlife, I'm not pressingly eager to go and get it back.”

    “Not that it's much of a loss, given that we were nearly in the bit that got swapped,” Über observed.

    “Yeah, but that was the only prototype,” L33t reminded him.

    “What do you think went wrong with it?” asked Pandora.

    L33t shrugged. “It decided to blow up? I dunno. I've had things like this happen before, but it's usually because I've made something too similar.”

    Pandora's shoulders slumped slightly. “Oh, well. That's that, then.” She turned to walk away.

    “Actually,” L33t mused, “come to think of it, it might be that Flechette gun thing that I made for the war. They're both about punching into other realities. It's just that one's about attacking everything in all realities, and the other's about swapping between realities.”

    The reaction from Pandora was dramatic. She spun around and grabbed L33t by the head, pulling his face down to her level. “You're a genius!” she told him, then kissed him soundly.

    “Guh … guh … guh … what?” L33t tried to calm his spinning thoughts. By the time he managed that, Pandora was gone. “What happened?”

    “She kissed you and then ran out the door.” Über shook his head. “Seriously, dude. I've told you about kissing robot girls. You never know where they've been.”

    “Shut up. You're just jealous that the hot robot chick didn't kiss you.”

    “Doesn't mean I'm not right.”

    L33t stalked forward until he was face to face with Über, his face set in a scowl. “There's only one way we can settle this.”

    Über scowled right back. “You're right. Call of Duty deathmatch it is.”

    “I'll get the munchies.”

    “What about the snake and stuff?”

    “Eh, it'll still be there when we finish.”

    <><>​

    The Crater
    That Afternoon


    Flechette slid down off the back of the four-armed gorilla. As Parian climbed down more demurely, Lily was already examining the next obstacle to the cleanup. As it happened, this was a chunk of concrete the size of an SUV, with lengths of rebar sticking out at odd angles.

    “Road's damaged a ways back,” Aegis commented, drifting down alongside them. “So they can't get heavy machinery in to shift this. It's well outside my weight range, and probably the gorilla's, so it could be problematic,”

    “No, it's really not.” Lily pretended to crack her knuckles. “Parian, could I borrow a pair of scissors?”

    “Uh … okay?” From a pouch at the dollmaker's belt, a pair of scissors appeared and floated toward Lily, who caught them out of the air.

    “Thank you,” she said, moving toward the chunk of concrete. Selecting the straightest section of rebar, she sent a whisper of her power into the scissors and then snipped off the rebar, allowing a three-foot section to clatter to the cracked pavement.

    Aegis stared. “How the hell did you do that?”

    “You really didn't read up too closely about my powers, did you?” Grinning, Lily tossed the scissors into the air; Parian caught them with her telekinesis and conveyed them back to herself. Then Lily crouched down and picked up the rebar with both hands, holding it like a sword.

    “You make arrows armour-piercing, I thought. And they go further.”

    “I do, and they do. But I got told something recently about my powers. I can make projectiles ignore things like obstacles and gravity and friction. That's because I make them exist in all universes at once, so they bypass anything that's in just one universe.”

    There was more she could have told him. Zion called it Sting. It was the only thing they feared. But she chose not to, because she had no idea how to answer the questions which would be provoked by that particular revelation.

    Instead, she ran her hand down the rebar, energising it with her power. It became as light as a feather in her grip. “But here's the fun bit. It doesn't have to be just projectiles.”

    So saying, she turned and used the rebar to slice cleanly through a jutting piece of concrete, letting it fall to the pavement. The gorilla lumbered forward and picked up the section she had removed, tossing it to Aegis, who caught it with a grunt. As Aegis flew off toward the truck, Flechette re-energised the rebar and attacked the chunk once more. Her improvised blade sliced through concrete and steel as if it were not even there, allowing her to section the large piece of rubble into much smaller pieces of rubble.

    Just as she was lining up to cut the last piece into two, to facilitate ease of carrying, the roar of jet engines became audible. She made the cut, then turned to watch a Dragon craft come in for a landing on the roadway.

    The hatch on the side of the craft opened, and a woman climbed out; she wore clothing reminiscent of First World War aviation leathers. Her blonde hair was styled in a pixie cut. “Hi!” she called. “I've just come to borrow Flechette for a little bit, if nobody minds?”

    “No, wait, what?” Aegis, on his way back, swerved toward the woman. “Ma'am, you're going to have to identify yourself. You really shouldn't be here; we're clearing rubble and it could get dangerous.”

    “Oh, sorry.” The woman smiled brilliantly. “I'm Theresa Richter. Dragon's daughter? Mom's on the line to the PRT. You should get word from them any minute now.”

    At that moment, Aegis' phone rang. Flechette felt as though she had walked into a movie halfway through. “But … what do you want me for?”

    Theresa grinned at her. “If Mom's right, it'll be really awesome. But I don't want to raise your expectations needlessly. You can bring the rebar; that's exactly what we need.”

    “What's going on?” asked Parian.

    Lily spread her hands. “I have no idea.”

    They both looked at Aegis, who was still talking on the phone. Or rather, he was doing a lot of listening. Finally, he said, “Yes, sir. I'll do that right away, sir.”

    “Let me guess,” Theresa said as he put the phone away. “Flechette's supposed to come with me?”

    Aegis shrugged. “That's what the Deputy Director says.” He turned to Flechette. “Go with, uh, Ms Richter. Help her out however she needs. Keep me posted.”

    “Uh, can Parian come too?” asked Lily.

    “She's not under PRT command,” Aegis decided. “Ms Richter, it's your call.”

    “Sure, why not? Come on, let's go.” Theresa ducked back into the craft. She leaned out again. “I'll just open the hatch for your, uh, pet.”

    The rear hatch motored down so that Parian could guide the four-armed gorilla on board, while she and Lily entered the Dragon craft via the side hatch. Once they were settled in the surprisingly comfortable seats, Theresa vaulted the craft skyward in a roar of jets.

    “Where are we going?” asked Flechette. “Can you tell me that, at least?”

    “Sure,” Theresa replied with a brilliant smile. “The Trainyards.”

    <><>​

    The Trainyards

    Melanie Fitts, also known as Faultline, pulled the car to a halt, surveying the area carefully. She didn't think Dragon's call had been the bait for a trap, but stranger things had happened. The only other people she could see were the two women standing in front of a Dragon craft, across the parking lot. One had long black hair and matched the description she had of Dragon herself, while the other was a redhead.

    “Come on, Elle,” she said softly. In the passenger seat, Labyrinth snapped back from whatever distant place her mind had been wandering, and opened her door. They were both in costume, of course; whatever happened, Faultline intended to be ready for it. As she got out of the car, she smelled rusting metal, which wasn't surprising; the entire Trainyards was in the process of gradually returning to the earth from which it had once been mined.

    Side by side, they walked toward the pair standing before the Dragon craft. “Dragon,” she greeted the Tinker. “I'd heard you were an AI. Was I wrong?”

    “No,” Dragon replied with a smile. “I'm pleased to meet you, Faultline. And of course you too, Labyrinth. This is Pandora.”

    Melanie had also heard of Pandora and Theresa, Dragon's two 'daughters'. Rumours for their origin spanned the gamut from adopted humans through artificial humans grown in a test tube to full AIs. She didn't care, so long as nothing went sideways on this mission. That it was a mission, there was no doubt; in this case, the primary objective was 'make sure Elle gets home safely'.

    “Right.” She raised her chin. “You contacted me, said that you had a business opportunity for me. But before you would give me more details, I had to meet you and bring Labyrinth along. So we're here. What's the deal?”

    “I've received some very interesting information on Labyrinth's constructions,” Dragon told her. “They literally exist in more worlds than one.”

    “Interesting, certainly,” agreed Faultline. “But not particularly earth-shattering.”

    “True,” said Dragon. “But it is the reason I asked you to come here. You and Flechette.”

    Almost as if on cue, the roar of jets split the air, and Faultline looked around to see a second Dragon craft angling in for a landing. It touched down not far from the first one, far enough away that only a few pieces of gravel bounced past them.

    Faultline restrained herself from asking, What's Flechette doing here? It would make her look less in control. And in any case, she would find out in a few moments. She watched the hatch open in the side of the craft; three people got out. One was a blonde with a pixie cut, while the other two were …

    “Flechette and Parian,” she noted. And that would be Theresa. “What's Parian got to do with this?”

    “Nothing, really,” Dragon advised her. “She's just along for the ride, apparently. Flechette, Parian, I'd like you to meet my daughter Pandora. Faultline, Labyrinth, meet Theresa.”

    So the rumours are true. Faultline had heard mention of the Ward and the rogue spending a lot of time together in costume. This suggested a relationship out of costume. Well, more power to them.

    “So we're all here,” she announced. “I think it's about time we stopped beating about the bush. Why did you want Labyrinth here?”

    “I think her power can be used to make holes between universes,” Dragon stated bluntly.

    Behind the welding mask, Melanie's eyebrows rose. “I'm fairly sure that's not true,” she replied just as bluntly. “We would have noticed at some point.”

    “It required the right power interaction,” Pandora explained. “We were originally going to go with the power of a kid called Scrub.”

    “Never heard of him.”

    “That's because he doesn't have powers in this timeline,” Dragon said patiently. “But if Security hadn't changed matters, he would have.”

    The more Melanie heard of what Michael Allen had done here and there, and the effects that he'd had on events, the more pleased she was that she had chosen not to do anything about him. “So how does this help us? If the kid doesn't have powers, he doesn't have powers.”

    “Even in his absence, we have two things. One, the knowledge that it can be done. And two, Tinkers who can replicate powers.”

    “And yeah, we tried to replicate the original power,” Pandora chimed in. “Didn't work. Because L33t already built something to replicate a power that had similar effects.”

    “L33t. Oh, god,” muttered Faultline. “You went to him?” She wanted to facepalm, but the welding mask would have gotten in the way.

    “Hey, he's made some pretty impressive stuff,” Pandora told her. “Anyway, he gave me the idea for what we're gonna try. Labyrinth, we're gonna need you to build something. Small would be better.”

    “How small are we talking?” asked Melanie.

    “Something maybe just a bit bigger than a train tunnel,” Dragon said. “Can you manage that?”

    “Give me a moment,” Faultline replied. She turned to Elle and began explaining quietly what they needed.

    <><>​

    “What's going on?” asked Parian, not for the first time.

    “I'm not sure,” Lily said. “I think they want Labyrinth to build something and then maybe I've got to damage it? And that'll do something. I'm not sure what.”

    “Well, they did say the gun with your power made Scion's fake body disappear,” Sabah pointed out. “Maybe they want you to do the same here.”

    “That's what I'm wondering about.” Flechette hefted the rebar. It wasn't energised with her power, so it was as heavy as any other chunk of steel. “When Weaver did that, it revealed Zion's real body behind it. But there's nothing to reveal here. What are we gonna get? Is this even a good idea?”

    “Well, Dragon's doing it, so I guess she knows what she's doing,” Parian said. But her tone was dubious.

    Lily grinned at her. “So, remember what you said that time about me bringing you along? Still sure that's a good idea?”

    Sabah reached down and took her free hand. “If I'm with you, it's a good idea.”

    <><>​

    Together, they watched the building erect itself. Walls grew from the ground and merged with the main structure, while the ground itself grew weird spiky roses and other plants that Lily didn't recognise. The whole thing was beginning to look like a cathedral in miniature, but one built to a deity that Flechette wasn't sure she wanted to know about.

    “Okay, that's big enough,” Dragon decided, after exactly ten minutes had passed by Flechette's internal clock. “Everyone back off.”

    “I thought you said this was safe,” Faultline told her accusingly, shepherding Labyrinth back toward the Dragon craft with the others.

    “I know that it can be done relatively safely,” Dragon replied. “I don't know if this is the safest way to do it. But I think it is.”

    Flechette rolled her eyes. “That's reassuring.” She paused. “What do I do?”

    Dragon indicated the miniature cathedral. “Can you hit that from here?”

    Lily snorted. “I could hit it from a lot farther away, if I had to.”

    “Perhaps we should,” Faultline suggested. “I'm almost certain this that has never been done before. A safe minimum distance is always a good idea at a time like this.”

    Dragon nodded. “You make a good point. We'll pull back to Flechette's maximum range.”

    <><>​

    Sabah wondered if it had been such a great idea to insist on going everywhere with Lily. Events were moving a little fast for her, and she had no idea what sort of results would arise from Dragon's plan. She stole a sideways look at the Ward, standing by the hatch, and got a wink in return. It made her feel a little better, but not much.

    The hatch motored open, letting in the roar of the jets as the Dragon craft hovered in the air, quite a distance from Labyrinth's construction. The other craft, with Faultline and Labyrinth on board, was nearby, also hanging in the air.

    Ready, Flechette?” That was Dragon, speaking to them over the radio earpieces that she had given them.

    Ready,” Flechette replied. She ran her hand down the length of the piece of rebar, imparting her power effect to it.

    Dragon's voice was firm. “Go.”

    Parian watched Flechette take aim, then she threw the yard-long piece of steel like a dart. It flew straight and true, crossing the distance in less than a second, and struck the 'cathedral' dead centre. An instant later, the construction vanished as if it had never been. But in its place …

    Christ. What is that?” It was Faultline, the woman's habitual reserve gone for once. In fairness, she had a good reason; where Labyrinth's 'cathedral' had stood, there was now a void. More accurately, there wasn't a void. There was nothing; the eye tended to skate off of it. It was pure white, without texture or depth.

    The space between worlds.” That was Dragon. “Labyrinth?”

    It’s deep,” Labyrinth's voice was quiet. “There’s so much there. Worlds that I didn’t make.”

    You can push into it,” Dragon told her. “There will be worlds that are close to the surface. We're looking for one that's easy to push into, as if people have already been there, more than once.”

    Parian wondered at the odd phrasing. It was almost as if Dragon were reading from a script.

    Labyrinth wasn't long in answering. “There's three like that.”

    Parian met Lily's eyes as the Ward sat down beside her. It wasn't hard to guess her thoughts. Three?

    Two will have life, and one will not,” Dragon said carefully. “One will have lots of people, and the other just a few. Can you find that one?”

    I can't tell if there is life in them, until I open them,” Labyrinth's voice was dreamy. “One's like this -”

    The image shifted from formless white to a black starfield. An abrupt howling gale came up, sucking everything toward the portal. The jets on each Dragon craft roared in response, pushing the craft away from the hole in space.

    Close it!” screamed Faultline's voice over the comm. “Close it now!”

    We can't.” Dragon's voice was still calm, in control. “Labyrinth, change to another world.”

    The gale roared on; Sabah was not at all sure that they weren't being sucked toward it. She tried to imagine how much air was being drawn through the hole every second, and couldn't. Lily's hand caught hers, and she clutched at it like a lifeline.

    Then all she could hear was the scream of the jets; sudden acceleration pressed her hard into the seat. Both Dragon craft were soaring away from the portal, which was no longer giving a good impression of a black hole.

    Well done,” Dragon said. “Labyrinth, does this world have people on it?”

    Many, all over the world,” Labyrinth replied.

    This will be Earth Aleph, then,” Dragon decided. “Can you move it to the third one you detected?”

    The Dragon craft were swooping back around by now; side by side, they grounded near the portal.

    Is it safe?” asked Faultline. “Shouldn't we keep our distance?”

    So long as we don't switch back to the first world, we should be fine,” Pandora assured her. “That's the one where they blew up the planet to piss off Zion.”

    There was no real way to top that comment, as far as Sabah was concerned. Faultline obviously thought the same way, as she stayed silent.

    They disembarked from the craft; with Dragon and her daughters in the lead, they congregated in front of the portal once more. On the other side, instead of slowly rusting rails and rolling stock, was an unspoiled wilderness. Flechette set out to walk around the portal; Sabah followed close behind. It was the oddest sensation, seeing a block of air and ground replaced by what must have been there before Brockton Bay was settled. Most bizarre was the fact that the distant horizon was the same in both views.

    “So what's this world?” asked Faultline. “Why's it so valuable?”

    Dragon smiled. “It's the world where Sanctuary was established.”

    “Sanctuary?” The mercenary seemed to lift her chin. “When that place was being set up, some people from the PRT approached my Crew. Asked them if they wanted to go there.” Her voice held flat pride. “They said no.”

    “Well, it's just through there and about ten miles down the coast,” Dragon told her. “If they wanted to visit once in a while, or something.” She gestured. “Or, for instance, if anyone else wanted to get away from the rat race, settle someplace new. Sanctuary controls quite a bit of land, but there's a whole world through there. Whoever controls this portal, whoever owns the land it's on, could make quite a bit of money, entirely legally.”

    That got Faultline's attention. Her tone hardened with suspicion. “Who does own it?”

    “We do. That is, you and me.” Dragon gestured at herself, then at the black-clad mercenary. “I took the liberty of purchasing a large area of the Trainyards, centred on this spot. Your name is on the deed as half owner.”

    “What? Why?”

    Dragon smiled. “Consider it my payment to you to help protect my investment. Now, if you don't want the job, you can just say so and I'll take full responsibility for its protection, and one hundred percent of the profits. But if you do …” She let the words trail off.

    “I'm going to need to see full documentation.”

    “Already being couriered to your headquarters.”

    “And the option to get rid of my half at any time.”

    “Only to someone I approve of,” Dragon countered “However, that also applies to me. The only ones I'm allowed to gift my half to is you, Pandora, Theresa or Armsmaster. Family, you see. You can pass on your half to me or anyone in your Crew, but no outsiders. Anyone else, we have to ask permission first. Fair?”

    “Hm. Yes. Fair.” Faultline paused. “Does Armsmaster even know about this?”

    Dragon took the non sequitur in her stride. “Not yet.”

    “Okay, why here? Why in the Trainyards?”

    “Because trains,” Parian interjected. It was so clear to her.

    “Exactly.” Dragon's voice was approving. “They're proven technology. Long-distance transportation. Sure, you have to lay the track, but once that's done, there's no cheaper way to get bulk freight from one place to another. For Sanctuary, we might even go back to steam. Low tech, easily maintained.”

    “So the Wild West rides again.” Faultline's voice was sarcastic.

    “If you want to call it that.” Dragon smiled. “It is a new frontier, after all.”

    Flechette leaned close to Parian. “You know what? I think we just saw the world change. Again.”

    Parian didn't answer. She just took Flechette's hand and squeezed it.

    <><>​

    The Hebert Apartment
    Saturday Night, June 25, 2011


    Danny ladled out the fragrant-smelling food on to each plate. “I hope nobody minds Chinese,” he said cheerfully.

    “No, no,” Theo assured him. “I actually like it.”

    Beside him, Kayden looked dubiously at the food. “I haven't had any in … well, in a long time,” she confessed.

    “Trust me, it's good.” Theo smiled at her. “I'm glad you could make it up here.”

    “I'm glad I could make it.” She looked around at the others. “And I'd like to thank you all for being so kind to Theo. For helping him fit in.”

    “He saved my life,” Amy pointed out. “And Vicky's. Even though she wasn't too appreciative at the time.”

    Riley looked up from where she'd been tickling Aster's nose. “Your boy was all kinds of badass right then, Mrs R. One minute Zion's 'all your base are belong to me' and the next he was outta there.”

    Theo flushed under the massed approving gazes. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “anyone would've done it in my place.”

    “But it wasn't anyone else, was it?” Gladys had been quiet, but now she spoke up. “It was you. You saw what had to be done, and you did it.”

    Taylor put her arm around her former teacher and squeezed her shoulders. “Yeah. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. Mike taught me that.”

    Danny cleared his throat. “Speaking of Mike. There's another reason I asked you all here tonight. I know there's been about a dozen different memorial services for the man, but I thought it might be good for us to do something of our own. Just say a few words.”

    Kayden nodded. “I think this is a good idea. I attended the one in New York, but they didn't know him. Didn't know who he was. What he was like. What he did for me and Theo and Aster.”

    “I'll go last,” Gladys said softly. “Who wants to go first?”

    Silence fell over the room, broken only by Aster's gurgling. Gradually, it seemed that everyone's gaze was drifting on to Taylor. She looked from one face to another, then finally rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. I'll go first. I suppose I should, because he helped me out first and all. You could've warned me that I'd need to make a speech.”

    “No speeches necessary,” Danny noted with a grin. “Just a few words, is all. To remember him by.”

    Taylor nodded. "Okay then. When I met him, he was just a security guard. But he saved me. Took a really sh-uh, crappy day and turned into something pretty good. Turned a crappy week into a really good one. Whenever I needed support, he was there. I guess because he knew ahead of time. But still, he cared enough to do it."

    She paused, thinking. "The first word I ever heard him say was 'Security'. Wait, no. I think I actually ran into him in the hall, earlier. But I don't recall him saying anything then. Anyway, the last thing we were doing before Zion attacked was … well, he gave me that poster of Shadow Stalker tied up in Christmas lights." She smiled at the memory. "But yeah, that was him all over. He cared." She choked up on the last word. Danny put his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him. Amy got up and hugged her from behind.

    "Thanks, Taylor," Danny said, a catch to his voice as well. "Who's next?"

    Amy took a deep breath. "I guess that's me," she said, taking her seat once more. "I haven't got much to say."

    " … she said, three hours later," murmured Riley.

    "Shush, you. Not your turn," Amy admonished her. "First time I met Mike, he walked into the bank just before it was robbed, and walked out with me. Then I got to see Weaver owning the bank robbers like a boss. But Mike didn't stop there. He told me that I needed therapy. Proved to me that I needed therapy. Put me on to Mrs Yamada. Told me what might happen if I didn't. So I went."

    She stopped to take a drink from her glass. "I got really annoyed with him sometimes. He was just so … bossy. But now, looking back, I can see what he was doing, and why. How much I needed someone to show me where I was going wrong. If I had to do it again, I'd thank him every step of the way." She put her hand on Taylor's shoulder. "And of course, he introduced me to my awesome bestie, who's now my sister."

    The scattered applause made her turn slightly pink, but she looked pleased with herself all the same.

    "Thank you, Amy." Danny looked around at the rest of the table. "Who's next?"

    Riley sat up a little. "Okay, I'll go. Um, you all know where I was before Mike decided to interfere with my life. He sent Eidolon after me and told him to bring me back alive. I was in a pretty bad place right then. But then he came to see me. Even though he didn't know for sure that I didn't have something that might kill him. Even though every time he left, they had to disinfect him down to the skin."

    "I remember that bit," Theo agreed. "That was no fun."

    "Yeah, well, it was worse in the cell," she retorted. "But this isn't about me. It's about Mike. He always visited. He brought board games. He talked. He listened. He treated me like a person, not like a monster. At the start, he was the only one who acted like I had a chance to be a normal human being again. When Bakuda shoved that bomb in his neck, he chose me to get it out, along with Dragon. And when the Director shut me down afterward, he came down and apologised. To me."

    She paused, apparently searching for words. "If it wasn't for him, I'd still be Bonesaw. I'd still be someone that I really don't like. And I know that I've done bad things. I'll be paying for that the rest of my life. But now I've got a chance to do just that."

    Taking a deep breath, she looked around. "Yeah. That's it." There was more applause as she leaned back in her chair. "Oh. One more thing. Theo, I'd like to thank you for inviting me here. You're all really cool."

    "Thank you, Riley." Kayden took up the thread. "When the PRT took down Coil, Mike was the only one who knew that Coil was making preparations to unmask us all. He warned me, and I took Theo and Aster to Boston. As it happened, it didn't help much, but at least Theo was with Aster when they were taken. So when he triggered, he got Aster back for me. But my point is that Mike tried. He knew how much I care for Aster. And then he put in a good word for me so that Legend agreed to give me a chance in New York. He even visited to make sure that I was getting along all right."

    She put her hand on Theo's shoulder. "What he's done for me and my children, I can never repay."

    Theo cleared his throat. "Yeah. What she said," he mumbled. He went to stop talking, but Danny made 'keep going' gestures.

    "Um, okay, all I can say is that he encouraged me," he went on. "He visited the Wards and talked to me about stuff. Told Taylor some stuff about my powers that she passed on to me. It works." Drawing a deep breath, he lifted his chin. "I'd like to say that when that thing with Zion happened, I asked myself 'what would Mike do?' and did that."

    A pause. "Well, I'd like to say it. It'd sound a lot cooler. But it wasn't like that. I just did it because I was pretty sure it was all I could do. But if Mike hadn't encouraged me, told me that I could be a real hero, I probably would've been too scared to try. But I did it, it worked."

    "Thank you, Theo. I suppose that leaves me." Danny took a deep breath. "Michael Allen came into our lives unexpectedly. I didn't know what to think of this security guard who stepped up and on his first day did what the entire faculty of Winslow had failed to do for the last eighteen months. He helped Taylor out, and in doing so, helped me out. Because I had no idea how to address her problems. Thanks to him, my daughter is now attending a good school, has good friends, and has already saved the world once. Not bad for someone who only turned sixteen two weeks ago."

    Amid laughter, he held up his bottle of beer. "Michael Allen, wherever you are, you're a good man. Thank you." Everyone else held up their drinks as well.

    After a moment of silence, Danny turned to Gladys. "I think you're up."

    “I think you're right.” She drew a deep breath. “I didn't know what to think about Michael when I first met him either. He was just a security guard. Principal Blackwell didn't seem to like him. When he came to me later about catching the girls in the act of their prank, I nearly turned him down. So many times I had tried to talk to someone about the pranks I saw happening, but every time it came to nothing. So I stopped trying. And then here was someone who wanted to try. So I thought, okay. Let's see what happens.”

    “Did you know about the voice recorders?” That was Taylor.

    Gladys shook her head. “I did not.” A smile stole across her face. “Their expressions when they realised that he'd trapped them … it was rather worth it. That was one of the better days I had at Winslow. And I kept seeing him around, and so I rather surprised myself when I asked him if he wanted to get coffee sometime. Things progressed, and we began seeing one another. I suppose that part of what attracted me to him was that he knew about life, but he wasn't cynical, or willing to look the other way. He wanted to do the right thing. It was only gradually that I learned that he was much more than an ordinary security guard, but by then I didn't care about that. I cared about him.”

    Taylor captured her hand and squeezed it; Gladys squeezed back. “When I found out the whole truth, including the part about him being due to die, I was angry and hurt. He had kept so much from me. But even then, he was so … Mike. He didn't push, didn't make excuses. Gave me my space to decide what I wanted to do. So I chose to stay with him. And I will never regret that.”

    “Thank you, Gladys,” said Danny. “That was nice. Thanks for sharing.”

    “No, thank you.” She smiled at him. “I think I needed to say all that. Get it off my chest.”

    “So how are things at Winslow now?” asked Taylor. “It's not too weird now, being Mike's, uh, ex?”

    “No, it's fine,” she replied. “I haven't actually been back since that night. Yesterday, I handed in my formal resignation.”

    “Um, what are you going to do?” asked Amy. “Where will you go?”

    “Well, while I was at Sanctuary, I was talking to Paige,” Gladys revealed. “And she told me that there are children there, and quite a few of the adults are forming relationships and some of them might even be able to have kids. Also, quite a few of them who are there right now are lacking in basic education, so …”

    “Wait, you're going to be a teacher there?” Danny looked impressed.

    Gladys shrugged. “That's the plan. I've approached the PRT about it, and they haven't said no yet.”

    “Well, I hope it turns out okay for you,” Kayden said. “I know a little about what it's like to uproot your life and go someplace new. It can be daunting, but also very rewarding.”

    “Well, we'll come and visit you when we can,” Taylor assured Gladys. Amy nodded in agreement.

    “I think that would be very nice,” Gladys told them. “But in the meantime, I think our Chinese food is getting cold.”

    “Well, we can't have that,” Danny agreed.

    As they dug in, Gladys turned to Amy. “So how's the therapy going, anyway?”

    “Oh, really good,” the biokinetic assured her. “Once Vicky started coming, and convinced Mark and then Carol to come, we got a lot of stuff out in the open. It helped that Mike left notes for Mrs Yamada about Carol's real issues. And she's helping Vicky with her issues, too. So we're making a whole lot of progress.”

    “She's making progress with me too, I think,” Riley announced. “Theo can tell you how much of a mess I was in after … well, after it happened. But she came by, and we talked a lot, and I let a lot of stuff out, and I feel better for it.” She looked toward Gladys. “He told me about you, you know.”

    “I know.” Gladys smiled. “He told me about you, too. You know, he always intended to bring me by sometime and introduce us?”

    “Yeah, he said something about that. You like board games?”

    “I've been known to play them from time to time, in my youth.” Gladys' voice was a little amused. “It's been a while. You'd probably beat me quite a lot. But yes, I'd be happy to play.”

    Riley smiled. “That would be awesome.”

    “Hey hey hey,” Theo warned them. “If there's board games, I'm in too. Okay?”

    “Sounds like a plan.” Riley's smile widened as she began to eat once more.

    No more talk was forthcoming as everyone else applied themselves to the Chinese food as well. It turned out that Kayden did rather like it, after all.

    <><>​

    PRT HQ, Brockton Bay
    Director Piggot's Office
    Thursday, June 30, 2011


    Flanked by armed guards, Bakuda stood before Director Piggot's desk. She was once more wearing the gas mask and costume that she had sported as a villain. However, she was also looking extremely rumpled.

    “What's this about?” she demanded in her trademark mechanical monotone. “I was doing nothing, and your goons dragged me in here.”

    Emily Piggot clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “You were preparing to start your criminal activities again.” The observation was mild, even neutral. The sky is blue. Water is wet. You were going to break the agreement.

    “No, I wasn't.”

    Piggot smiled thinly; her grey eyes bored into the Tinker. “I disagree. But let's not get into that. I have a proposition for you. The PRT will pay you a rather exorbitant sum for one of your devices.” She paused. “You are aware that you don't actually make bombs, yes?”

    “Uh, yes. I actually do.” Bakuda didn't know where this was going.

    “No. You actually don't. What you make is wide-area effect devices.”

    “Like I said, bombs.”

    The Director snorted. “A 'bomb' is something that blows up, possibly with shrapnel involved. What you make is far beyond a simple 'bomb'. A device that creates a stable bubble of slowed time is not a bomb. Nor is something that turns everything in a given area to glass.”

    “I blow stuff up. I blew a planet up, remember?”

    “I don't think anyone is ever going to forget that.” The Director eyed Bakuda directly. “Wide area affects can involve force, after all. But they don't have to. In any case, we're digressing. I need one of your flesh-dissolver devices. Something that's guaranteed to break down every piece of organic matter in, say, a one mile radius.”

    Behind the darkened lenses of her gas mask, Bakuda blinked. “Seriously, what is it with you good guys? These days, it seems that every second request of yours is something that would get me Birdcaged if I decided to build it on my own.”

    “Yes. It would.” Piggot's gaze did not waver. “So can you build it or not?”

    “Well, of course I can build it. You gonna tell me where you're gonna use it?”

    Piggot merely smiled.

    <><>​

    Brockton Bay PRT HQ
    Director Piggot's Office
    Saturday, July 2, 2011


    “Enter.”

    Emily Piggot looked up from the latest round of paperwork as the twelve-year-old who had to be perhaps her most controversial prisoner entered her office. As per regulations, a guard accompanied the child. Riley ignored the man and planted herself in the chair that sat before Piggot's desk.

    The Director put down her pen and turned her gaze on to Riley. The child did not fidget or become uncomfortable at the scrutiny, as many Wards had before her; Emily reminded herself that Riley had spent years in the company of psychotic mass murderers. For quite some time, the girl had been a psychotic mass murderer.

    “You asked to see me,” the Director said, when Riley seemed unwilling to open the conversation. “Why?”

    Riley raised her chin. “I want to leave Brockton Bay.”

    Piggot frowned. “This is almost certainly a bad idea. If you are recognised, people may take it very badly that you are walking around free. Your name has been taken off the kill-order list, but I can't guarantee that everyone knows that. Or cares, for that matter.”

    The girl waited for her to finish with an expression of polite interest. “Plus, you really don't want me out of your sight, where I might revert to my old ways, yeah?”

    Emily frowned slightly. “That is also a concern, yes. I understand that you have formed strong bonds with several people in Brockton Bay, both in and out of the Wards, and I would like to encourage that. Moving away will be a step backward, in that regard.”

    “Oh, I'd be going with one of my friends,” Riley told her brightly. “Mike's girlfriend Gladys is moving to Sanctuary. I want to go with her. She said to ask you.”

    The Director was a little taken aback. “You want to move to Sanctuary?”

    “Well, yeah,” Riley said. “I wouldn't think anyone knows me there, and I figure they could probably do with a doctor at some point. And my power doesn't care what shape someone is.”

    Emily leaned back in her chair, rubbing her lips. “And it would get you out from under my thumb.”

    Riley's expression was the very picture of innocence. “Maybe?”

    “Hmph.” Piggot frowned, but her mind was already ticking over, bringing up the positive angles. It would get Riley out of Brockton Bay, and out of the hair of the PRT. Her behaviour had been exemplary for quite some time, if one discounted the Perdition incident.

    “I'll think about it,” she decided at last. “When does she leave?”

    “Next week,” Riley said. “Friday.”

    Piggot nodded. “I'll have an answer for you by then.”

    But she was already reasonably certain of what it was going to be.

    <><>​

    On Patrol
    Brockton Bay
    Thursday, July 14, 2011


    “We might have trouble.”

    Golem and Tenebrae looked at Taylor. It was the taller one who spoke first. “What sort of trouble?”

    “Empire trouble.” She gestured at the corner ahead. “A car just stopped about halfway down the block. Three people got out. One's covered in metal, one's got a cage around her head, and one's got a metal mask on. No shirt, long hair. The car's waiting, engine running.”

    “Kaiser, Cricket and Hookwolf.” Theo's voice held certainty.

    “They fit the bill,” she agreed. “Tenebrae, thoughts?”

    “Thought number one, we call for backup.” He pulled the phone from the pouch on his belt. However, when he pressed the speed-dial, it beeped mournfully at him. “Son of a bitch.”

    “What?” Golem's voice was tense.

    “No signal. It's a total blank.”

    “Here, let me check.” Taylor pulled her own Wards-issue phone out. Seconds later, it echoed Tenebrae's. “Crap. The towers must be down or something.” And I don't have vox-bugs near anybody who can call for help. Damn it.

    “Thought number two, we just turn and walk away.” Brian looked at the other two. “They've obviously planned this one out. We don't want to walk into an ambush. Plus, three Wards up against three senior members of the Empire? We've got every excuse to duck out on this.”

    Taylor looked at him. “Two Wards and one should-be Protectorate member,” she corrected. He couldn't very well deny it; his eighteenth birthday party had been epic.

    He shook his head. “Still, not good odds.”

    “No.” It was Golem. They both looked at him.

    “What?” asked Tenebrae.

    “If I know Kaiser, he'll have made sure that we can't just walk away. No matter where we go, no matter what we try, we'll end up in front of him anyway. So we don't do it on his terms. We do it on ours.”

    “What, are you saying we just walk up to him?” Taylor was dubious. “Is that what you're saying?”

    Theo nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying. He'll be expecting us to try to evade, to wriggle on the hook. He wants us to wear ourselves out trying to get away.”

    “But if we just march up to him, bold as brass …” Tenebrae rubbed his chin. “It could still backfire. Even with my darkness, Cricket nearly took me down last time. And that was just her, with the two of you helping.”

    “I talked to Mike about that.” Taylor felt she was justified in being just a little smug. “He gave me a few pointers. And I had an idea that this sort of thing might happen. So I've been making preparations.”

    They both looked at her. This time, Golem was the first to speak. “Really?”

    Behind her mask, Taylor grinned. “Really.”

    <><>​

    “Ten bucks says they run for it.” Hookwolf's voice was idle.

    Cricket held a buzzer to her throat. “Twenty says they leave Theo and then run for it.”

    “Hush.” Kaiser didn't put much force behind the words, but the other two quieted. He had spent far too much time setting up this situation to have his subordinates spoil it by making side bets.

    The three Wards had been under subtle observation since they started out on their nightly patrol. All the cell towers that could cover the area had been taken down five minutes ago. Other crises had been engineered across town so that nobody else would inconveniently blunder on the scene. Best of all, that interfering busybody Michael Allen was no longer in the picture; Kaiser would not have put it past the man to stroll past at just the wrong moment and ruin everything.

    The three Wards turned the corner. As he watched, they began walking toward where Kaiser waited with Hookwolf and Cricket. Golem led the way, the other two flanking him.

    “Well, damn,” muttered Hookwolf. “Looks like your kid grew a set.”

    Kaiser found himself wondering if the ex-cage fighter had a point. Theo's head was up, his stride was confident. The skinny form of Weaver and the darkness-oozing Tenebrae matched him step for step.

    Cricket put the buzzer to her throat again. “Where's bug girl's bugs?”

    That was also a point. Kaiser didn't look around, but he formed grilles inside his armour so that the larger type of stinging bug would find it very hard to get to him. “Keep an eye out for her swarm.”

    Not that he had much of a worry in that situation; he was almost impervious, while Hookwolf could armour up at a moment's notice. Cricket also seemed unconcerned, so he put the matter from his mind.

    Golem came to a stop about five yards away from Kaiser. “Kaiser. Did you want something?”

    Inside his armour, Max raised an eyebrow. The boy had grown a pair. “Hello, Theo. You're looking well.”

    “You know the unwritten rules, Kaiser. No outing capes.” Despite his words, Theo didn't seem to be unduly put out.

    “You know full well that it's already been done to me,” Kaiser shot back. “I'm no longer bound by that particular rule.”

    “That's not how it works, and you know it.” Tenebrae's voice was deep and echoing, possibly due to the darkness still rolling off of him.

    Cricket took a step forward. “Shut your mouth, Grue, or I'll shut it for you.”

    Tenebrae mirrored her move. “Any time.”

    Before either Kaiser or Golem could speak, the two came together. Blows were exchanged, fast and deadly. Kaiser had warned Cricket against using her blades, but they weren't needed in this situation; within a few seconds, Tenebrae was rolling on the ground, courtesy of a kick to the solar plexus. It was plainly obvious that Cricket had the edge on him.

    Slowly, the villain-turned-Ward climbed to his feet. Cricket held her ground. “You want more, just say the word.”

    Tenebrae drew a deep and obviously painful breath, and straightened up, his hands going to the small of his back. Then he turned to the other two. “You guys got them?”

    Golem nodded. “Kaiser's mine.”

    “Which makes Hookwolf mine.” Oddly, despite being seriously overmatched, Weaver did not seem perturbed, even when the burly Hookwolf snarled at her.

    Kaiser cleared his throat hastily. “Before we do something that you three will definitely regret, let's talk.”

    “Why bother talking?” Hookwolf was impatient. “Junior heroes wanna get the shit kicked outta them, let's oblige.”

    “Fine, let's talk.” Theo raised his chin. “What did you want to say?”

    Finally. “You've spent enough time playing hero, Theo.” Max deliberately used his son's name again. “It's time you embraced your heritage. You're an Anders. It's a name to be proud of.”

    “Not as far as I can see.” Theo's voice was flat. “And I'm not 'playing' hero. I'm being a hero. Every time I go out and help someone, I make the world a little bit better. Can you say the same?”

    Max sighed. “Fine. I tried to do it the easy way. Let's step things up a little. You come with me now, willingly, or both of your companions will end up very badly hurt.”

    Theo's lips tightened. “Same old Kaiser. You just can't lose, can you? You have to win, no matter what.”

    “Yes. I do. So what's your answer?”

    Theo's reply was delivered in a dead flat tone of voice. “You can walk away now, or you can surrender to us. There is no third choice.”

    The sheer audacity of it momentarily stunned Kaiser. He simply couldn't believe what he was hearing.

    Hookwolf burst out laughing. “Holy shit, Kaiser, that's what I call big brass ones!”

    And the first thing I will be doing is curtailing that particular attitude. “So I see. Well, I reject both of your choices.” Raising his hands, he gestured both Hookwolf and Cricket forward. “It's time you saw where empty bravado gets you.”

    Tenebrae was more cautious this time; he circled around Cricket as she advanced on him. Confident of victory, she was almost casual about it, in no hurry to close with him.

    As Weaver backed away from Hookwolf, the big man chuckled behind his wolfs-head mask. “This is gonna be fun.” However, in the next second, a colourful waterfall descended from above; Hookwolf found himself surrounded by fluttering butterflies.

    “Fuck me,” marvelled the tattooed cape. “You're attacking me with butterflies. What are they gonna do, cute me to death?” He waved away the ones that would have landed on his face, so that he could still see his opponent. Others landed all over him; he didn't bother with them.

    Weaver kept backing away; Hookwolf advanced on her. “Is that it? No bees? No hornets?”

    She shook her head. “Don't need 'em.”

    “What th -” Abruptly, Hookwolf began to brush the butterflies away. “Fuck, they're stinging me! Since when do butterflies sting?” Metal slid out of his skin, covering his body, mangling those few 'butterflies' left on him, but it was too late. He took one more step then fell on his face. The wolfs-head mask came off and skidded a short distance.

    Weaver dusted her hands off; the butterflies began to orbit her in a cheerfully menacing cloud. “Since right now. Tenebrae?”

    Kaiser's disbelieving gaze snapped from Weaver and the prone Hookwolf to where Tenebrae was facing off Cricket. She started to move toward him, just as he brought his up his right hand. Kaiser now saw that the black-clad hero was holding something flat against his forearm. He pulled it from the back of his belt, before.

    Flipping the compressed-air screamer into his palm, Tenebrae pressed the button on the canister, hitting Cricket with a blast of extremely high-pressure noise. The effect was immediate; she reeled, disoriented, unable to get her bearings. Even as the echoes died away, Tenebrae moved in fast. A kick to the kneecap, a knee in the stomach and an elbow to the back of her neck were delivered with all the power that Tenebrae's husky frame could muster. Cricket crumpled to the ground.

    Max curled his lip; metal spikes shot up from the ground all around Weaver and Tenebrae. In seconds, two cages had formed, imprisoning each of the Wards. “Checkmate,” he told his son. “My people are down, but they'll get up. Your comrades are my prisoners. Go ahead and attack me with your concrete hands; whatever you can make, I can break. I've got decades of experience on you. You can't win.”

    “On the contrary,” Golem told him. “You've already lost.” He reached for a panel on his belt. Just one finger pushed into it; with a creaking noise, Max found his sight cut off.

    He tried to reach for his face, but the joints of his armour would not move. “What the -”

    “You encased yourself in steel before coming to face me.” Theo's voice sounded as though the boy was walking around him. There was a faint grinding noise; he wasn't sure what it was. “To me, that's not armour. That's a weapon. I can do this -” Another creaking noise, and something pressed on the back of his neck. “Or this -” A painful lump grew under the sole of his foot. “Or even this.” Fingers pressed on his throat, just hard enough to be uncomfortable. “Now, I could do that with a knife. Do you want me to do that with a knife?”

    For the first time, Max Anders realised exactly how serious, and how dangerous, his son was. He also recognised that tone; it was one that he himself had used from time to time. The circumstances in which he had used the tone also came back to him, and he swallowed with some difficulty.

    “The first wound you inflict, I kill your companions -”

    “They're already out of the cages.” A smashing blow to his face; he felt his nose break. Blood ran down his chin, and trickled down the back of his throat. “But that's for even suggesting it.”

    “You can't kill me. That would be murder.” He hated the nasal tone of voice, but the inside of his armour was compressing his broken nose.

    “I felt in fear of my life. You're a known murderer. Pretty sure they'd let me claim self-defence and defence of others. Particularly given that it's true. So. Do you surrender?”

    Max tried one last gambit, to cause the armour to retract and fall off of him. This would open him to other attacks, but Theo would no longer be able to use the metal against him. But it wouldn't go. He tried again. Stubbornly, it stayed where it was.

    “Ten seconds before your armour becomes an Iron Maiden.” He identified, without too much difficulty, the sound of a blade being withdrawn from its sheath. I cannot die here, in this way.

    Defeat was bitter in his mouth. “I surrender.” The only bright spot in all of this, as dim as it might be, was that it was Theo who had taken him down, and not some other Ward. He's a true Anders, all right. He just proved it.

    <><>​

    Theo walked away from his father; the once-sleek armour was covered in replicas of Theo's hands where they had grown out of one part of the metal and grasped another. To complete the capture, concrete hands had grown from the pavement and taken hold of Kaiser's ankles.

    He took a deep breath, then another, as if trying to flush a bad taste from his lungs. Weaver joined him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

    “Yeah, I'll be fine.” He looked her in the eyes, or at least in the blank yellow goggles that she wore as part of her costume. “It was kind of scary, talking like that. Like I really meant it.”

    “The trick is, mean it at the time,” Tenebrae advised him. “People like that can tell if you're gonna flinch. Don't let them think that you will.”

    “But I punched him in the nose.” Theo shuddered. “I've never even … well, okay, yeah, I've tried to punch you guys in the nose, but that's in training, and I've only actually landed a few hits. But he was helpless and he never saw it coming.”

    Tenebrae shrugged. “Doesn't make it wrong. If he thinks you're willing to go to town on him, he'll be less likely to cause trouble before the PRT gets here.”

    “Speaking of which, I've finally gotten a vox-bug and a spy-bug in to talk to Dad,” Taylor announced. “He's calling the PRT as we speak.”

    “Oh, good,” Theo said in relief. “I had visions of us pooling our pocket change to go find a payphone.”

    “Got enough change, and the nearest payphone's a block that way,” Weaver told him promptly, pointing.

    Theo blinked in surprise. “How … oh, your bugs. And of course you keep quarters on you. You keep everything back there, don't you?” He nodded toward the spade-shaped compartment on her back.

    “Well … I try.” Weaver's voice was casual, but he thought that she sounded pleased.

    “Gonna check on Hookwolf and Cricket.” Tenebrae moved in that direction.

    I'll never get a better chance. “Uh, Weaver?”

    “Yeah?”

    “Once we're off duty … well, would you like to go see a movie or something with me?” Confronting Kaiser and his super-powered henchmen had been scary enough. This was far beyond even that.

    “What.” Her voice was flat.

    To his horror, he heard himself start to babble. “Well, I've felt this way about you for a while, but Mike told me to wait till after the war was over, and now it's over, and I didn't want to wait too long in case you meet someone else, so -”

    “Wait.” Her voice cut him off. “So you're asking me on a … a date, is that it?”

    “Uh … yes?”

    “Hm.” She regarded him inscrutably for a few moments. “Sure. Why not? It might be fun.”

    Relief spread through him like a cold drink on a hot day. “Cool. Friday night?”

    A nod. “Sure, I'm not doing anything else. Meet you at seven?”

    The smile spread across his face, as unstoppable as the tide. “It's a date.”

    Tenebrae returned from his self-appointed task. “Cricket's still secure. Hookwolf's still out. What did you hit him with?”

    Taylor sounded smug. “A variation on the Ali bug, carrying a mix of batrachotoxin and ketamine.”

    Theo blinked. Taylor had mentioned batrachotoxin before and of course he knew what ketamine was. The Ali bug, however … “One of Amy's creations?”

    “Yup. Can't wait to tell her how well this one worked out.”

    “You kicked Hookwolf's ass with butterflies.” Tenebrae's voice was impressed. “He's never gonna live that down.”

    “Hell yes.” Taylor held out her fist; Theo bumped it. “We rock.”

    <><>​

    Ellisburg
    Sunday Morning, July 17, 2011


    The pull-out began shortly after midnight. No lights were used; soldiers wearing night-sight gear climbed carefully into the backs of trucks, which rumbled away in low gear. Oddest of all were the soldiers standing at spaced intervals with decibel meters; if they held up a hand, everyone froze.

    Slowly, increment by increment, the forces around the Ellisburg wall fell back. The PRT troops had been carefully briefed; if one incautious sound or light aroused the suspicions of Nilbog, then it could get very bad indeed.

    Hours passed; tempers frayed. Equipment broke down and had to be left behind. A truck stalled; rather than make a noise restarting it, they pushed it into the ditch and started walking. Everyone knew the penalty for being left behind in the danger zone, so they moved with a purpose. They couldn't march, due to the distinctive sound made by many boots hitting the ground at once, so they simply walked. Conversation was not allowed for the same reason; one voice might go unnoticed, but a hundred voices would create a murmur of sound that might reach the ears of Nilbog's creatures.

    Slowly, in fits and starts, the area around the Ellisburg wall was cleared of all human life.

    <><>​

    Director Emily Piggot of PRT ENE paced back and forth, listening to the desultory radio chatter. Even that was heavily encrypted, on the off-chance that a surviving radio existed within Ellisburg. “What's taking them?” she muttered. “Too much longer, it'll be morning.”

    The command post had been set up four miles away from Ellisburg, in a small town called Mannsville. It had taken weeks to get permission to put this mission into action, and days more to evacuate all of the towns within a certain radius of Nilbog's domain. Piggot itched to go in there and chivvy them along herself, but she knew that she could not. I have subordinates to do that for me.

    Time crawled along; she drank another cup of the hot, bitter brew that masqueraded as coffee. Going outside for a moment, she stared toward the east, imagining that she could see a lightening in the sky. That would be a disaster.

    One of her officers stepped outside. “Director,” he murmured. “We just got word. Half an hour.”

    “You're certain.” Her voice was flat. “Three hours ago, it was 'one hour'.”

    “I'm certain. Or at least, they are.”

    Her lips tightened. “Contact McGuire. I want wheels up in ten.”

    “Ma'am, yes, ma'am.” He hustled back inside.

    <><>​

    Two hundred and sixty-five miles away, there was no need for stealth. Harsh lights illuminated the single fighter-bomber that sat on the apron. Orders were shouted and obeyed. Loud beeping heralded the approach of the low-slung bomb-truck that held the ordnance due to be attached to the aircraft. It was a perfectly ordinary bomb case; the difference lay within.

    Motors whined as the bomb was lifted and secured to the warplane. A sergeant-specialist opened an access plate and plugged in a keypad; one digit at a time, he entered the authorisation code. After he disconnected the keypad and secured the access plate, the attachment points were double-checked. Finally, the metal safety-pins with their orange tags were pulled; the bomb was now live.

    Responding to more shouted commands, the aircrew cleared the area around the fighter-bomber; in the cockpit, the pilot began to spool up the engines. Slowly, the aircraft began to move, off the concrete apron and on to the runway proper. Under the direction of the tower, the sleek war machine turned until its pitot boom was aligned precisely down the centreline of the runway. Brakes were applied, and the throttles were opened; the aircraft canted forward slightly, as the thrust from the rear overcame the resistance of the landing gear suspension.

    A single command crackled in the pilot's headset. He released the brakes. Impelled by thousands of foot-pounds of thrust, the massive machine lunged down the runway like a predator pursuing its prey, and with much the same aim. Less than half the runway had whipped by before the nosewheel lifted from the tarmac; a moment later, the rear wheels had done the same, and the craft was transformed from a clumsy ground vehicle into a sleek, agile bird of prey. The undercarriage motored up into the fuselage as the fighter-bomber turned in a long banking arc that put it on a heading of three hundred and forty-seven degrees. Afterburners kicked in, accelerating the plane toward the speed of sound.

    It would reach Ellisburg in a little under twenty minutes.

    <><>​

    0443 Hours

    Piggot was back inside, trying to find a comfortable way to sit on the uncomfortable chair, when one of her officers raised a finger to catch her attention. “Yes?”

    “Raven One-One is inbound, Director.”

    She nodded and fitted the headset over her ears. “What's the channel?”

    “Six five three, ma'am.”

    “Thank you.” She entered the appropriate numbers, then listened for a moment. “Raven One-One, this is Beacon Actual, how copy, over?”

    The reply was a little scratchy, but she could hear him well enough. “Beacon Actual, this is Raven One-One. I copy you five by four, over.”

    “Raven One-One, do you have your waypoints, over?”

    Affirmative, Beacon Actual. Seven waypoints, I say again, seven waypoints programmed in and double-checked, over.”

    She let out the tiniest sigh of relief. This had been her own personal security measure; if any number but seven had been given, she would have known that the mission was compromised. “I copy seven waypoints, Raven. State ETA, over.”

    I make ETA fifteen minutes thirty at … mark, over.”

    Piggot's eyes flicked to the digital display on her desk. As she watched, it ticked over to 04:43. So, just before five. Christ, we're cutting it close. “I copy fifteen thirty, Raven. Beacon Actual will be acting as offset aimpoint, with a radio beacon set to one zero five zero kilohertz. Target will be at a distance of three point niner two miles from Beacon Actual, bearing two niner one degrees. Do you copy, over?”

    Raven One-One copies offset aimpoint, one zero five zero kilo hotel, three niner two mike, heading of two niner one, over.”

    “Roger, Raven One-One. Good hunting. Beacon Actual out.” She pulled off the headset and dropped it on the desk; leaning back in the chair, she breathed deeply of the slightly stale air within the command post. “Is the radio beacon set up?” She knew it was, but she wanted to be sure.

    “Yes, ma'am.”

    “Good. Turn it on. Report to me when it's operating correctly.” I'll make this work if I have to get on the roof with a flashlight.

    “Ma'am, yes, ma'am.”

    <><>​

    0451 Hours

    It had taken some cajolery, but the FAA had reluctantly agreed to clear the airlane between New Hanover Township and Ellisburg for just that morning. No aircraft were permitted to cross that airspace between five thousand and fifteen thousand feet, between the hours of midnight and six AM. Fortunately, no large cities lay on that track, or it may have been a little more difficult.

    Raven One-One came scorching down the centre of the cleared airspace at an altitude of six thousand five hundred feet above sea level. At just before oh-five-hundred hours, there was a distinct lightening in the eastern sky, especially at that elevation, but lights were still showing in the small towns, below. About now, night shift workers would be coming home, while early risers greeted the upcoming sunrise. None of them knew of the parcel of death travelling by, just a mile over their heads, until the trailing sonic boom caught up with them; even then, they had no idea what it signified. Neither would they, until much later.

    <><>​

    0455 Hours

    “Ma'am, the forward observers are getting movement at the top of the wall.”

    Piggot snatched up the headset and dragged it on over her head. “This is Beacon Actual. Speak to me.”

    Ma'am, this is Watchdog Three-Two. I have four … no, make that five, Nilbog creatures on top of the wall, northwest side. They do not seem to be agitated as yet, over.”

    Watchdog Two-Four here, ma'am. I have three on the east side as well. They are definitely looking toward where our emplacements were, over.”

    Her eyes flicked toward the clock. Come on, come on. She took her finger off the transmit button. “Contact Raven One-One. Get his position, now.” Pressing the button again, she kept talking. “All Watchdog units, all Watchdog units. Report if any creatures start coming down the outside of the wall, over.”

    An officer tapped her on the shoulder. She lifted one earpiece away so that she could hear what he was saying. “He reports that he's on final approach, ma'am. Two minutes.”

    She dropped the earpiece back into place. “All Watchdog units, this is Beacon Actual. Fall back. Repeat, fall back. Acknowledge, over.”

    One by one, draggingly slow, the Watchdog units reported in. Several reported creatures starting to venture down the outside of the wall, but it was too late for them. Surely it was too late.

    Throwing the headset to the desk once more, she headed for the door. Pushing it open, she could see the first streaks of dawn in the sky. It was beautiful, but she had no eyes for it. Instead, she searched the sky to the southwest.

    And then she saw it; a tiny shining star, travelling from south to north, far faster than any bird could move.

    <><>​

    This is Raven One-One. Requesting final drop authorisation. Authenticate Bravo Delta Delta, over.”

    “This is Beacon One. Authenticating Kilo Foxtrot November, over.”

    I copy Kilo Foxtrot November.” There was a long pause. “Ordnance away. I say again, ordnance away, over."

    <><>​

    Something was badly wrong. Nilbog could feel it. His multitudinous creatures sniffed the air and milled around. The braver ones had reached the top of the wall, where they saw that the men and machines that had hemmed them in for the last decade were gone.

    Even in his twisted ideas of reality, Jamie Rinke knew that the PRT would not simply pull back for no good reason. He ordered the smartest, the bravest, the fastest to go and scout out the enemy positions. If they were truly gone, if this was not some elaborate ambush, then it would be time for Nilbog's kingdom to expand.

    Only the quickest-witted among his creatures saw the aircraft, painted bright by the sun's earliest rays, passing overhead. It was there and gone before they could even react. But something had fallen from it, something that even now was dropping toward Nilbog's domain. Parachutes were deploying, slowing it. It would land precisely in the centre of what had once been called Ellisburg.

    Nilbog's eyes opened wide. “They dare!” the meat-puppet bellowed. “Go forth! Attack! Attack them all! Kill them all!” Its head tilted back, the gross mouth gaped open, and a cloud of brown spores belched forth. The wind caught them, and they began to spread out.

    The sonic boom rolled over the town a moment later. In contrast, the explosion made barely any sound at all.

    <><>​

    One of the forward observers had set up a camera; in the strengthening light, Emily saw the field expanding outward, a fragile-seeming soap-bubble effect, from which the dawnlight refracted rainbows. It passed the wall and kept going.

    In their transports, the field observers planted pedal to metal. There was no need for stealth now; powerful engines bellowed loud as the armoured fighting vehicles accelerated directly away from Ellisburg. Behind them, the pursuing monsters bellowed almost as loudly, until the field effect caught up with them.

    Ever outward it expanded, growing more and more attenuated, until finally it popped out of existence. Beyond its radius, the field observers did not slow down; within the circle of effect, not a living thing stirred. Even the deadly plague spores were now harmless, inert dust on the wind.

    Deep underground, Jamie Rinke died without ever knowing what killed him.

    <><>​

    This is Beacon Actual. Report.”

    The forward observer picked up the microphone and stood up in the hatch of the AFV. Peering back toward Ellisburg through binoculars, he saw the trees and waving grass end abruptly, beyond which was a barren landscape populated by a grey ashy powder and blackened stumps. It was as though a wildfire had roared through, but there was no smell of smoke, no heat.

    “This is Watchdog Three-Two,” he replied. “The field has ceased expanding. I repeat, there is no more expansion. Everything within the boundary is … dead. Ash. I can see no movement. Repeat, no movement.” He refocused the binoculars on the distant walls of Ellisburg. Dark smears decorated them, courtesy of the creatures that had been descending when the bomb went off. Nothing living looked like that.

    <><>​

    Everything's dead, over.”

    Emily Piggot felt a smile stretch her face; a feeling of relief spread throughout her chest. “Thank you, Watchdog. Keep a close lookout. Report anything unusual. Beacon Actual, out.”

    She switched channels. "Beacon Actual to Raven One-One. Mission success. I say again, mission success, over."

    "This is Raven One-One. I copy mission success. Returning to base. Raven One-One, out."

    Turning to the officers in the command post, she nodded once. “Prep the investigation teams. I want to be absolutely certain. But in the meantime … good job. It looks like we pulled it off.”

    As the cheers and congratulations arose, she dropped the headset on the desk and walked outside.

    I got you at last, you bastard. I finished the job.

    Inhaling the crisp morning air, she admired the dawn. It really was quite magnificent.

    <><>​

    PRT HQ, Brockton Bay
    Wards Base
    Sunday, September 26, 2011


    But I’ve dealt with worse. If it comes down to it, if this is all I have to worry about, I can maybe deal. I could maybe learn to be okay.”
    I think that’s all any of us can hope for,” her father said.

    Slowly, Lisa put down the reader. She reached for another tissue, but found that the box was empty. A quick search located a full box in her desk drawer; she blew her nose noisily, then used another one to wipe her eyes. Getting up, she headed out into the main area.

    <><>​

    “I'll take two,” Taylor told Missy, discarding that number of cards. Two cards came her way, landing precisely in front of her with the assistance of a little space-bending. Picking them up, Taylor slotted them into her hand. She now had three fours. Not bad, but not great, either.

    “I'll take one,” Browbeat requested. Whoops, he might have something good. She resisted the temptation to send a few bugs around to try to read the stocky Ward's cards; the game was just supposed to be a fun distraction.

    “Hey, Lisa,” Missy said, looking over Taylor's shoulder. “Wow, your eyes are really bloodshot. Have you been crying? What's wrong?”

    Taylor turned to look, just as Lisa hugged her. The hug astonished her, as the blonde rarely went in for that level of physical contact with anyone. “Whoa … wow … are you okay?” Wriggling her arms free, she patted Lisa on the back awkwardly. “What's the matter?”

    Slowly, Lisa let her go. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “I … just got a bit emotional.”

    “And so you should be sorry,” Theo told her as he crossed the room to hitch his butt up on to the corner of the table. Reaching down, he captured Taylor's hand. “Only one who's allowed to give Taylor surprise hugs is me. Isn't that right?”

    “That's right,” Taylor said with a grin as she got up. “But seriously, Lisa, what's up?”

    Lisa shook her head. “It's just … I was thinking about Mike, and I decided I needed a hug. And you were closest to him, so …”

    “Oh. Oh, wow. Come here.” Taylor enfolded her friend and fellow Ward in a hug of her own; Lisa returned it. “If you want to talk about it any time, you come talk to me, okay?” Taylor rested her forehead against Lisa's.

    The blonde smiled wanly. “Okay.”

    “And if I see you moping around the place, I'll bug you till you tell me what's wrong.” Taylor deliberately paused; she was not disappointed, as the groans started a few seconds later.

    “Oh, god, Taylor,” Missy objected. “Not another bug pun. It's almost as bad as Clockblocker before he graduated to the Protectorate.”

    “Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week.” Taylor grinned and seated herself on the edge of the table next to Theo. “So, Lisa, you all right? Want to play?”

    “Not poker,” Missy said flatly. “She'll clean us out every time.”

    “So we go with a luck based one,” Taylor replied. “Lisa?”

    Lisa's smile was a little wider this time. “Sure. I don't need my powers to beat you, anyway.”

    “Ooh, is that a challenge I hear?” asked Missy gleefully.

    “And what if it is?”

    Missy grinned. “Bring it.”


    Epilogue One Concluded + Epilogue Two
     
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2016
  13. Asheram

    Asheram Know what you're doing yet?

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    And Lisa learnt why we all love the little queen.
     
  14. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Good chapter. More loose ends tied up, closure and happy endings for so many.... a fitting epilogue for a great story.
     
    Prince Charon and Ack like this.
  15. godzillahomer

    godzillahomer Know what you're doing yet?

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    Your counterpart in I, Panacea agrees
     
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  16. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Security!

    Epilogue One (continued)


    Part Four: One Year Later

    Sanctuary
    Monday, June 11, 2012


    “What I don't get is why the train station isn't closer to the town,” groused Aisha, kicking at pebbles. “Why do we gotta walk?”

    “Because they wanted it that way,” Brian told her.

    “That's not an answer,” she shot back.

    Danny cleared his throat from where he was walking with Taylor on one side and Amy on the other. Each of them was carrying an overnight bag. “They didn't want the train going right by the town, with all the noise and pollution that entails. Also, gawkers. Plus, having to walk half a mile from the train stop discourages casual visitors.”

    “It's sure as fuck discouraging me,” Aisha complained. “Why are we coming here, anyway?”

    “Because Taylor and Theo asked me to come along,” Brian told her. “And I wasn't going to leave you in Brockton Bay unsupervised.”

    He turned to walk on; she made a rude gesture at his back. Taylor grinned at her. “Come on,” she encouraged the younger girl. “It's not that far now.”

    “I could carry you,” offered Theo. “If you wanted.” Hearing this, Amy smirked.

    “What, really? You'd do that?” Aisha eyed him suspiciously. “What's the catch?”

    Lisa stopped alongside Taylor to watch the show; her green eyes glinted mischievously. “The catch is that he'd carry you over his shoulder. And then find a mud puddle or something to dump you into.”

    Aisha stared at Theo, who tried to look innocent. “You wouldn't. Would you?”

    “Uh, yeah, he would,” Amy told her.

    “Definitely,” Taylor added. “You haven't seen him taking down the bad guys. He's ruthless.” But her eyes twinkled as she put her arm through Theo's. “You know, he actually asked me out on our first date while we were out on patrol? He'd just captured Kaiser. So what could I say?”

    “You guys talk too much.” Rachel was standing at the edge of the road, looking out at the landscape. Beside her, the three dogs sniffed at the air and whined softly.

    “Rachel, are you -” Brian only got that far before she stepped off the road, the dogs following. “Where are you going? The town's that way.”

    She didn't bother turning her head. “Looking to see what's there. I'll be in later. If I feel like it.”

    At a steady trot, she started off into the trees, the dogs following at her heels. Taylor fancied that she could already see them growing in size.

    “Arrgh. Why does this always happen?” Brian rubbed at his scalp with his fingertips. “Where's she going now? Why does she do this?”

    “Didn't you see the look on her face?” asked Lisa. “Seriously? This is probably the first time she and her dogs have ever had the chance to get out and run in the woods, just for fun. I wouldn't be surprised if she comes back here on a regular occasion, now.”

    Danny nodded. “I have to agree with Lisa. It fits with everything I've been told about her.”

    As they resumed the walk, Brian turned to Taylor. “So why did you want to come to Sanctuary for Vee-Zee Day, anyway? Why not just have it back in Brockton Bay?”

    “Because it's my birthday,” she told him patiently. “And I've got friends in Sanctuary. Plus, it's special. It's where I was when he died. I miss him.”

    “Who are you talking about?” piped up Aisha impudently. “Mike or Zion?” She ducked as Brian went to cuff her lightly on the back of the head.

    “Mike,” Taylor replied shortly. “I shot Zion myself, and my only regret is that there weren't more bullets in the gun.”

    Brian blinked. “I'd heard the stories. I didn't know that one was true.”

    “Believe it,” Danny said. “I was there.”

    Aisha whistled softly. “Badass.”

    “You better believe that, too,” Theo told her. He put his arm around Taylor's shoulders, having to reach up slightly to do it; she leaned into him.

    Amy stepped up alongside Danny and grinned. “Hey, Aisha.”

    “What?”

    “What do you call a magical time-travelling dinosaur?”

    Danny was already chuckling as Aisha frowned. “Uh … Steve?”

    Amy grinned. “Nope. The Wonderful Lizard of Was.”

    “Holy shit,” Aisha exclaimed. “That's got to be the single worst joke I've ever heard. I love it.”

    Taylor rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Dad. You've infected her. The plague is spreading.”

    Theo shook his head. “Aisha, that sort of joke is not to be remembered. That sort of joke needs to be taken out back and shot.”

    “And then buried in a shallow grave,” added Brian. “Amy, that was terrible. You shouldn't encourage her.”

    “Too late.” Aisha made a rude gesture at him, then danced behind Lisa. “I'm gonna tell that joke to every one of your girlfriends.”

    “Hey, leave me out of this,” Lisa told her. “I thought the joke was terrible, too.”

    “No, it was great,” Aisha said. “Got any more, Amy?”

    “Uh, no?” From the look on her face, Amy had decided that denial was the better option.

    “Come onn …” Aisha urged her. “You gotta have something.”

    Danny came to Amy's rescue. “She got that one from me. I have others.”

    “Ooh, tell-me-tell-me-tell-me.” Aisha turned toward him, eyes bright.

    Brian leaned in toward Taylor. “Are you sure he knows what he's doing?”

    She grinned. “Do you hear her complaining?” she murmured back.

    “Okay then,” said Danny. “A bear walks into a bar …”

    <><>​

    As they entered the outskirts of Sanctuary, three people moved together to bar their way. It was easy to tell that they were true Sanctuary citizens; one had purple skin and no eyes, the second was a woman whose limbs and body were actually disconnected from one another, and the third had skin with the same texture and colour as charcoal. They weren't armed, but Taylor figured they probably didn't need to be.

    “Names,” the purple man stated. “And your business in Sanctuary.” He paused, looking at Taylor. “Wait, I know you. You're Gladys' friend Taylor. You shot Zion.”

    “That's right,” Taylor replied. “This is my father, Danny, and my sister Amy.”

    The charcoal man looked at Danny. “I remember you too now. You were here when it happened.”

    Danny nodded. “That's me. Sorry, I don't remember you.”

    The disjointed woman nodded. “That's okay. You're good to go in. These people are with you?”

    Taylor nodded. “They are. And we've got one more. A girl with dogs. Her name's Rachel.”

    “Where is she?” asked the purple man.

    “No idea,” Taylor confessed. “But she'll be back. She was just taking the dogs for a run.”

    “We'll keep an eye out for her,” the purple man said. “Gladys would be just finishing the day's classes, if you were looking for her.”

    Taylor raised her head slightly. “If I recall correctly the school is … that way?” She pointed.

    The three Case 53s looked impressed in their various ways. “Good guess,” the purple man told her. “That, or you used your bugs to find it.”

    “You got me.” Taylor grinned. “I did kinda cheat, yeah.”

    “We all do,” the eyeless man agreed. “I'm guessing you're here for the anniversary?”

    “We are,” Danny confirmed. “We decided we wanted to spend it among people who really knew what it meant.”

    “I can understand that,” said the disjointed woman. “Well, have a nice day.” The impromptu greeting party stepped aside, allowing them to move on.

    “Keep an eye out, hah.” Taylor's head jerked around. For a moment, she wondered who the girl walking with them was, then memory returned. Aisha. Brian's sister. Can make you forget her.

    “Aisha,” growled Brian. “Not the time or the place.”

    “But he's got – mmph!” One of Brian's brawny arms had wrapped around her head, his hand over her mouth.

    Not the time or the place.” He repeated it, more intensely. “I brought you along so that you could relax and unwind. So that I could relax and unwind. Not so that you could antagonise everyone you met.”

    Aisha mimed something; gradually, he loosened his grip.

    “Chillax, bro,” she told him. “I didn't say it where they could hear me.”

    “Um, you do realise that this is a community of people with powers, right?” Theo pointed out diffidently. “Any one of them could have the power to listen in on what we're saying, and we'd never know it.”

    “He's right,” Brian pointed out. “Apart from Taylor and Danny, the people living here are the last ones who saw Mike alive. This is the last place he stopped off at before he did what he had to do. That makes this place special. So let's have some respect, okay?”

    Aisha wrinkled her nose. “You're no fun.”

    <><>​

    The schoolhouse was relatively easy to pick out; it was a large, low-set building with windows along its length. It was one of the few buildings that was entirely prefabricated; most of the others incorporated local materials in their construction.

    As they got closer, the doors opened and a horde of children, from early teen and upwards, poured out. Were it not for the fact that no two looked alike, and few looked truly human, it could have been a scene from anywhere in small-town America.

    Aisha looked startled as the children thronged past; a few stopped and stared at them, but most just kept going. “You never said there were kids my age here,” she said accusingly.

    “We did actually say 'school' several times,” Brian pointed out.

    “I never listen to you,” she retorted. “You know that!”

    Taylor chuckled. “She's got you there.”

    “Excuse me.” It was the oldest of the children from the school; Taylor thought he might be fifteen or sixteen. With his dark-grey skin and red eyes, however, it was hard to tell. “Who are you? You're not from Sanctuary.”

    “No sh-” began Aisha, but Brian was ready for her this time; his hand slapped over her mouth before she had a chance to say anything else.

    “No, we're not,” Taylor replied. “My name's Weaver. You might remember me. I'm a friend of your teacher's.”

    “Weaver? Really?” The children looked at one another, then back at Taylor. “Prove it. Do something with bugs.”

    There were, of course, insects aplenty in this world; Taylor had been gathering a swarm as they walked. She caused a squadron of flies to buzz past, followed by a bunch of bees and then three hornets. These circled around the children, then back to orbit her head. Some didn't make it back; one of the younger children darted out a three-foot tongue and snapped a dozen of the flies out of the air.

    “Okay, you're Weaver,” the grey-skinned boy conceded. He held out his hand. “I'm Ray. Welcome to Sanctuary.”

    “Thanks, Ray. I'm glad to be here.” Solemnly, Taylor shook it.

    The kid with the tongue pushed forward; Taylor decided that he looked more like a lizard than a frog, for all that his skin was a normal healthy pink. “Did you really shoot Zion with a big gun?”

    Taylor nodded. “Yeah.”

    “My dad says you cried afterward.” That was Ray.

    “I did.” Taylor folded her arms. Almost automatically, Theo put his arm around her; she leaned into him. “Mike was special to me. Like a really cool uncle. The type who shows you how to do stuff your parents won't let you do. And Zion killed him. So I helped kill Zion.”

    Gravely, the boy nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Miss Gladys told us how Michael was the one who made Cauldron let us go.”

    “My mom says that if anyone ever threatens Sanctuary, he'll come back to protect us,” piped up a girl who couldn't be older than thirteen. Water seemed to flow over and around her in a never-ending stream so that wherever she walked, she left puddles.

    Taylor realised that the talk of 'mom' and 'dad' must be due to the older adults informally adopting the children into their homes, forming family groups on the fly. She wondered how it was working out for them.

    “I, uh, don't think it works that way,” she began, then paused. Mike did say that he was an extradimensional being. He might just be able to do that, after all.

    “Well, it might,” Theo suggested diplomatically as the girl's lip began to quiver. “But it's best to depend on yourselves first, yeah?”

    “Excuse me, what's going on out here?” The voice was very familiar. Taylor turned. Gladys stood on the schoolhouse porch with another familiar figure beside her. “Who are – Taylor?”

    Taylor felt a grin spreading across her face. “Mrs Knott? Riley?”

    Gladys shook her head with a smile. “I'm just Gladys, here, remember? Even in school, I'm 'Miss Gladys'. How have you been? You look well.” She descended the steps with the blonde at her side.

    “Thanks. Wow. You look so different.”

    Gladys smiled uncertainly. “In a good way, I hope?”

    “Well, yeah.” And it was true. Gladys' long blonde hair had been braided and then wound around her head. She looked a little more muscular, somewhat more tanned, and her cheekbones were a bit more prominent. The knuckles on one hand were skinned, and two nails were broken, but she looked … serene. At peace with herself.

    “Thank you.” She smiled at Taylor. “Goodness, you've grown, even since I last saw you. And this is … Theo, isn't it?”

    Theo nodded. “Yes, ma'am. We met at the dinner, at Taylor's place.”

    “I remember. You've done well for yourself, I see. Lost some weight?”

    “And gained some more muscle.” Brian poked Theo in the ribs, then offered his hand. “We haven't met, but Taylor's told me all about you. Brian Laborn. This is my bratty little sister, Aisha.”

    “Hi, Aisha. I'm Riley.” The blonde teenager stepped up to Aisha and stuck out her hand.

    “Riley, huh?” Aisha eyed her suspiciously. “Didn't you use to be a supervillain or something?”

    “Aisha …” Brian's tone was ominous.

    Riley made a throwaway gesture. “It's okay. Yeah, I was.”

    “Hey, I'm cool with that,” Aisha said cheerfully. “So was my big bro. You'd never know it now. He's a superhero now. Totally lost all his cool factor. So anyway, what's to do around here that's fun?”

    “One sec.” Riley turned to Amy. “Big sis. It's so good to see you.” She then proceeded to wrap the startled biokinetic in a hug.

    Startled, Amy chuckled. “It's good to see you too, Riley.” She held the younger girl at arms' length and looked her over. “You've definitely grown a bit. And you're so tanned.” Her fingers trailed through the shoulder-length fringe of Riley's hair. “And you cut your hair, too?”

    “It kept getting in the way,” Riley explained airily. “So, you found yourself a girlfriend yet?”

    Amy rolled her eyes. “No. And I'm not looking. There'll be plenty of time for that sort of thing later.”

    “Pfft. First it's 'later' then it's 'too late'.” Riley grabbed her hand. “There's some girls I could introduce you to around here, if you're interested.”

    Amy looked around, a little panicky. “Taylor, some help?”

    Taylor grinned. “I seem to recall someone trying to set me up with Chris, once upon a time,” she said cheerfully.

    “But that was funny.” Amy tried to extract her hand from Riley's grip; somehow, despite being stronger than the blonde, she didn't seem to be able to do it.

    “And so is this.” Taylor stepped away from Theo and gave her best friend and sister a hug. “Go on. Meet new people. At least here, you'll know that they like you for you.”

    “Um …” Amy turned to Danny. “Dad?” Her tone wavered between 'help me out of this' and 'can I go do this'.

    Danny paused, undecided. “Gladys?”

    “She'll be safe.” Gladys bent a stern eye on Riley. “Won't she?”

    “Oh, sure,” Riley agreed. “I'll make sure of that. Wanna come with, Aisha?”

    Aisha grinned. “Boo-yah.” She turned back to Brian. “I thought this'd be no fun at all. Looks like I was wrong.”

    Together, along with the other children, they bore Amy away in triumph. After one last look over her shoulder, which Taylor wasn't quite able to decipher, Amy disappeared around a corner in the middle of the chattering horde.

    Danny leaned close to Taylor. “You'll be keeping an eye on her, of course.”

    She grinned in reply. “Well, duh.”

    “That was a little mean of you, wasn't it?” asked Brian dubiously. “Abandoning her like that?”

    Lisa grinned. “Are you kidding me? She wanted to go, but she didn't want to seem eager to go.”

    “Huh.” Brian rubbed the back of his head. “I guess I didn't know girls as well as I thought I did.”

    Danny chuckled. “Trust me, son, if you didn't know that by now, you would've learned it soon enough.”

    Taylor nodded to Brian. “Anyway, if she didn't want to go, do you really think that they'd be able to drag her anywhere?”

    “You know, you could've gone with her,” Theo offered. “I don't know much about girls, but I do know that sometimes you like to get together, no guys allowed. I can deal.”

    Taylor shook her head. “Thanks, sweetie, but I think it's a better idea for her to meet new people without me there to make her second-guess herself.”

    Theo frowned. “Second-guess?”

    “Yeah.” Taylor captured his arm. “Remember when you first asked me out? If Amy had been there, I don't know if I would've said yes. I might have felt that I was being disloyal to my friendship to her, no matter how silly it seemed. Same thing.”

    Gladys nodded. “I can understand that. In any case, Riley will also be making sure she's okay.” She indicated a direction; Taylor figured out that it was toward the river. “Sveta should be coming in with the boats now. I like to go down and meet her. Want to come along?”

    Taylor looked at the others. Nobody seemed averse to the idea. “Sure.”

    <><>​

    As they neared the bluff, Lisa touched Taylor's arm and fell back slightly. Taking the hint, Taylor slowed her pace a little as well. Theo glanced at her, and she gave him a quick tilt of the head and a glance at where Danny and Brian were chatting with Gladys. I'm fine; go on ahead.

    He took the hint; as he moved up, Lisa gave Taylor a very fox-like grin. “You've got him well trained.”

    “We understand each other,” Taylor corrected her. “You might have noticed, we also practise nonverbal signals for use in combat.”

    “Well, true,” agreed Lisa. “Not that I get into combat much. But all joking aside, you two do kind of go well together. He's a nice guy.”

    “He is,” Taylor said. “He's really attentive, and he doesn't back down from anything. I kinda like that in a guy.”

    “Yeah.” Lisa's voice was contemplative. “It's just a bit funny. I kinda thought that it would be you and Brian, if it was anyone.”

    Taylor tilted her head. “Well, he is kinda my type, but I get more of a big-brother vibe off of him, you know? Anyway, Mike told me a few details about how it would've gone with him, and I'm a lot more comfortable with what I've got with Theo.” She grinned. “Besides, the way Theo took down his dad impressed me, a lot.”

    “Plus, he's been working on building muscle as well,” Lisa pointed out mischievously.

    Taylor's look of innocence needed work. “And there's that too, yes.” She turned her head to look at Lisa as they started down the broad stairway leading to the bottom of the bluff. “So is my boyfriend all you wanted to talk about?”

    “Actually, no. There's a question I've been meaning to ask.” Lisa took a deep breath. “Do you consider me to be a good friend?”

    Taylor blinked, taken somewhat by surprise. “Uh, sure? I like you. We get along reasonably well. Mike said that in the original timeline, we would've ended up best friends, so there's that too.”

    “But this time around, you didn't need my help as much.”

    “Well, no, because Mike helped me out, and then I met Amy,” Taylor agreed. “But I still see you as a pretty good friend. I'm definitely glad that we're on the same team.”

    “Me too,” Lisa said. She didn't say any more, but her thoughts were busy. Since finishing the story, with her power filling in the gaps where Mike had had to condense it for brevity, she had found herself brooding over what had happened to Taylor; or rather, what would have happened. No wonder she turned out so harsh in the story, with all that happened to her. I think I like this Taylor a lot better, even if she's still a little terrifying when she has to be.

    “Wow, will you look at that.” Taylor's voice broke into Lisa's thoughts. There, sailing in twos and threes up the river toward a couple of sturdy piers jutting into the current, were a dozen fishing boats. With their sails spread to catch the onshore breeze, they made a stirring sight.

    “Fishing boats. Wow.” Lisa jumped down the last few steps; a moment later, Taylor landed beside her. “That's kind of impressive. Low-tech, but impressive.”

    “Especially considering that a year ago, Sveta was the only one who knew how to sail a boat or use nets or lines to catch fish in bulk,” Gladys pointed out in reply to Lisa's comment. “Now we've got a fleet, and she's training more all the time. And some of the people she's trained are training others, too.”

    Several other people were waiting down at the shoreline; a few turned at Gladys' voice. One was a tall, broad man who didn't seem to show any sign of being a Case 53, while the woman beside him was petite, with pastel yellow hair intermixed with feathers of the same hue, and was heavily pregnant.

    “Taylor!” called out the woman. “It's good to see you.”

    She turned and began to make her way up the slope toward them, but Taylor waved her back. “Stay there. We'll come to you.”

    “Wait a minute,” Brian said. “That's Canary, right?”

    “Her name's Paige,” Taylor told him with mock severity. “She's left 'Canary' behind.”

    The two groups came together; Paige greeted Taylor with familiarity, but other introductions had to be put on hold because the boats were coming in to dock. Each had a respectable haul of fish, some quite large; the first boat to come alongside was sitting the lowest in the water.

    From it jumped an energetic figure, comprised of a metallic skeleton animated by dozens of pale yellow tendrils; in the 'head' of the figure was a surprisingly human-looking face. She shouted orders which were briskly obeyed by her crewmembers, even while she doubled a rope around one of the posts of the pier and tied it off.

    “Sveta!” called out Gladys. “Surprise for you!”

    Sveta turned and looked, and her face lit up with delight. With a quick aside to one of the other sailors, she strode down the length of the pier. “Taylor!” she exclaimed happily. “Are you here for the anniversary?”

    “Yeah,” Taylor answered. “Sveta, you remember my dad?”

    “Of course,” the Case 53 answered. “It's good to see you again, Danny.” She looked at the rest of the group. “And you brought friends.”

    “Yeah. I don't think you've met Theo.” She hugged her boyfriend's arm to her side.

    “It's nice to meet you, Theo.” The twinkle in Sveta's eye indicated that she had picked up on Taylor's nonverbal signal. “And who's this tall hunk of man?”

    Lisa fought to hold back her giggles as Brian blinked at Sveta's flirtatious tone. “That's Brian. I'm Lisa. We're Taylor's teammates.”

    Sveta smiled broadly. “Well, any friend of Taylor's is a friend of mine. Welcome to Sanctuary.” She glanced around. “Does anyone know where Riley is? One of the trainees hurt himself.”

    “Oh, no,” exclaimed Gladys. “Is it bad?”

    “Not serious.” Sveta shook her head wearily. “Young idiot thought that being able to breathe water made him a natural sailor. Grabbed a line as it was paying out and took all the skin off of his palm. We've got it bandaged, but I'd really prefer Riley to have a look at it.”

    “I can contact her,” Taylor offered. “She's with Amy and Aisha, introducing them around.”

    Sveta frowned. “Amy … oh, Panacea?” She nodded toward Taylor. “I should have known she'd be here. You two are good friends, aren't you?”

    Taylor smiled. “Amy's my sister now, actually. We adopted her.”

    “Oh, congratulations.” Sveta's face lit up; she stepped forward and hugged Taylor. “Talking about that, did Gladys tell you that we've sort of adopted Riley between us?”

    Danny turned to Gladys. “No, you didn't. How's that working out for you?”

    “Rather well, actually.” Gladys nodded slowly. “She really needed a parental figure, or two. Sometimes I need to hold her before she can get to sleep.”

    “I got Riley's attention,” Taylor told them. “She's on her way.”

    “Oh, good,” Sveta said. “Thanks for that.” She smiled again. “It really is good to see you.”

    “It's great to see you too,” Taylor agreed. “You look happy.”

    “Oh, I am, I am.” Sveta's tone was definitive. “I belong.”

    <><>​

    The house that Gladys shared with Sveta was surrounded on three sides by a vegetable garden, with flowers at the front. Other dwellings had much the same arrangement. They were constructed with a mix of prefabricated components and local materials; this was mainly stone, with a little wood here and there.

    Theo paused, looking around at the rows of houses. “I'm impressed,” he admitted. “This must have taken a lot of work to get set up.”

    “You forget, we've nearly all got powers of one sort or another,” Paige reminded him. “Mine might not be good for manual labour, but it's amazing how much people enjoy hearing a song while they work.”

    “Plus, we brought in some construction equipment right at the beginning,” Joe added. “Got the heavy lifting over and done with early on.” He helped Paige settle herself on to a comfortable seat on the large porch, then sat down beside her. “I'm pretty sure that helped my standing in the community. Otherwise I'd just be the token normal.”

    “Yeah,” Paige told him, “but even if you were, you'd be my token normal.”

    Theo sat down with his back up against a post; Taylor settled herself so that she was leaning back against him. His arms naturally went around her, and she laced her fingers through his. “I like it here,” she decided. “It's nice and quiet.”

    “I think so too,” Gladys replied, emerging from the house with a tray. On it were several glasses and a large pitcher of juice. “Lemonade, anyone? Home squeezed. I know it's kind of a cliché, but it's very nice.”

    Taylor accepted a glass and raised it to Lisa, who was sitting opposite her. Lisa grinned. “You look so domestic, right now.”

    “Leave her alone,” Brian chastised her idly. “She saved the world. She's got a right to be domestic.”

    “I wonder where Amy and Aisha have gotten to,” Danny said. “Taylor?”

    “And Rachel,” Brian added. “She's been gone a while.”

    “Rachel's not in my range,” Taylor told them, “but Amy's on her way back. Aisha's with her.”

    Lisa eyed her speculatively over the rim of the glass. There was something she wasn't saying; Lisa figured that it was about the two absent girls, but Taylor wasn't concerned, so she chose not to pry deeper. And besides, the lemonade was delicious.

    Sveta came out as well, minus her armature. She used her tendrils to support herself from the rafters, settling herself on a shelf by the chairs, which Lisa decided had to be purpose-built. Several tendrils snagged the glass that Gladys held up toward her. “Thanks,” she said. “It was a good day out. The mackerel are running. This keeps up, we'll have plenty to tide us over the winter.”

    “Oh, excellent,” Gladys replied. She addressed herself to the larger group as she went on. “We're trying our best to become self-sufficient, here. Currently, the powers that be on Earth Bet are benevolent, but we can't always count on that.”

    “Well, no,” agreed Danny. “Politics can be a problem. The more you can export, the better.”

    “So what's been happening in Brockton Bay since I left?” asked the teacher. “We get newspapers, but I must confess, I don't have the urge to read them as much as I once did.”

    “Where do I start?” asked Danny. “The economy's up. Crime's down; ever since Kaiser was taken down, every wannabe crimelord that sticks his head up gets smacked down again, hard. And once the Boat Graveyard got taken away -”

    Gladys sat up. “Wait, the Boat Graveyard got taken away? By whom?”

    “We're not totally sure,” Taylor confessed. “But some people claim the Simurgh just showed up early one morning and just … picked it all up. If it was her, we have no idea what she's doing with it.”

    “Which opened the way for Lord's Port to be renovated and reopened,” Danny went on. “So the Dockworkers are showing a lot of black on the balance sheet for once. Employment's up across the board.”

    “Which means that people have more money, which means they're spending it on more stuff, which means more shops are reopening, and so on,” Brian filled in.

    “Of course, it's not all wine and roses,” Lisa noted. “There's still crime, and criminals, and some of them are really hard to pin down. Politicians are still politicians, but there's more good than bad going on.”

    “Oh, Gladys, do you remember Sophia Hess?” Taylor was grinning now. Lisa grinned too; she knew what was coming.

    “Uh, vaguely?” Gladys frowned. “Wasn't she one of the ones who -”

    Taylor nodded. “That's her. She's also Shadow Stalker. You know, that vigilante who was in the Wards?”

    “I seem to recall you telling me something of that sort,” Gladys said. “She was the one who tried to murder Michael. Has she gotten out or something?”

    “Nope.” Taylor's grin was even wider, now. “I went and saw her a few weeks ago …”

    <><>​

    John H Sununu Youth Services Center
    Manchester, New Hampshire
    Sunday, May 27, 2012


    “Hess. You've got a visitor.”

    Sophia looked up at the guard, then came to her feet. “Visitor? Who?” It can't be Emma. She's never visited me even once. Mom?

    “Cape. Name of Weaver.” The female guard, blocky in her uniform, sounded supremely disinterested. “You want to go see her or not?”

    “Yeah, I'll go see what she wants.” Sophia tossed the magazine she had been reading on to her bunk, the movement made awkward by the heavy cuffs she had to wear. Nobody shared her cell; this had been hard to achieve, but after Sophia had put two other inmates in the infirmary, and had visited there three times herself, it was deemed a bad idea to put her in with others.

    The guard held her by the upper arm the whole way; a reasonable precaution, given that the cuffs were a heavy, if unwieldy, weapon. She was walked into one of the private rooms; Weaver was already there, seated at the other side of the metal table.

    Sophia sat still as her cuffs were secured to the table. She could sit and stand, but she wasn't going anywhere apart from that. The table was, of course, fixed to the floor, as were the chairs on either side.

    The bug controller's mask covered her face; Sophia had to admire the creepy aspect of not being able to see her eyes, and the mandibles were a nice touch as well.

    “Do not pass anything to the prisoner, or accept anything from her,” the guard droned. “Do not make physical contact with the prisoner. This exchange will be monitored via that camera there.” She pointed, and Weaver twisted around in her chair to look at the camera dome back over her shoulder. “Do you understand this?”

    Yes.” Sophia heard Weaver speak for the first time. She couldn't see the bugs, but they were buzzing in time with the cape's voice, adding an extra layer of creepiness.

    The guard moved back, leaving the room. Sophia heard the door shut behind her, but she didn't look. All of her attention was taken up by her visitor. But she was damned if she was going to ask what this was all about.

    Time stretched out. One by one, Sophia heard the bugs moving around; some buzzing, some humming. A few walked across the table in not-quite random patterns. She wondered what Weaver's reaction would be if she squashed some.

    “You don't know why I'm here, do you?”

    The voice was almost human, this time, with just an underlay of buzzing.

    Sophia jerked her chin up. “Why don't you tell me?”

    Weaver tilted her head. “Do you remember Michael Allen?”

    Unconsciously, Sophia jerked at the cuffs; the restraint clanked loudly. “Yeah, I remember. That asshole framed me for trying to murder him.” It was the line she had decided on before the trial even started, and she had not wavered from it; sooner or later, she figured, someone might fall for it.

    “Right.” She got the impression that Weaver didn't much care. “Did you know he's dead?”

    And good riddance. She was careful enough not to say it. “Heard something about that. Not much in the way of details, though.”

    Weaver's voice was flat; the buzzing had picked up again. “When Zion attacked, Mike deliberately made himself into a decoy. He drew Zion out until he was too badly injured to continue, then Zion killed him. But this provided enough of a distraction that I was able to take Zion out. Then Dragon finished the job.”

    Sophia's eyes opened wide. “Fuck.” She stared at the cape across the table. “You took Zion out?”

    There was no pride, no swagger, in Weaver's voice. “Yes.”

    “But why are you even telling me this?” Sophia shook her head. “So you killed Zion. That's kind of fucking impressive, but I don't know you and you don't know me. Unless you've come here to tell me that I'm your inspiration? Because I'll totally take that.”

    But Weaver was shaking her head. “You're not my inspiration, Sophia. Not in the way you're thinking.”

    “Then why the fuck are you even here? What do you want from me?”

    Weaver stood up, and for a moment, Sophia thought she was going to leave. “I came here to show you something.”

    Sophia frowned. “You're not allowed to give me anything.”

    “I know, which is kind of a pity. There's a poster which would be a perfect present for you. But this is almost as good. Are you ready?”

    “Ready for what?”

    Weaver didn't answer with words. Instead, she took hold of the back of her mask and pulled it over her head. Fuck, she's unmasking herself to me. What the fuck?

    For a moment, Weaver stood, head down, hair hanging over her face – wait, that hair looks familiar – then she straightened up, putting a pair of glasses on as she did so. Taylor Hebert grinned at Sophia and gave her a little finger-wave. “Hi.”

    Sophia pushed herself back as hard as she could; the top of the chair-back dug painfully into her shoulder-blades. But she didn't care. Her eyes were wide open, her jaw dropping as she stared at the apparition before her. “No. No. No fucking way.”

    Taylor nodded. “Yes fucking way, Sophia. You did your best to destroy me, and Mike and I saved the fucking world.” The satisfaction in her voice burned like acid in Sophia's ears.

    Sophia shook her head. “No!” Her voice rose with every shout. “No! NO! It's not true! It can't be true! You're a fucking wimp! There's no fucking way!” She began to thrash around, jerking at the restraints holding her cuffs down.

    <><>​

    Unhurriedly, Taylor removed her glasses and then pulled her mask back on. She was just settling it into place when the door opened and two guards hustled in. “Holy shit,” one of them shouted over the noise of Sophia's escalating tantrum. “What the hell did you say to her?”

    “Just caught her up on current events,” she replied, the buzzing of her bugs helping to convey the sounds to the guards' ears. “I think she took it badly.”

    “No shit.” The other guard gestured her back. “She needs some time in cooldown, I think. Stay back; we need to take care of this.”

    “Sure thing.” Taylor stood back and watched. The two women attempted to hold Sophia down long enough to undo the restraints from the table. Then they called in two more guards. It took all four of them to wrestle her from the room; by that time, she wasn't even articulating words any more. It was just one long scream of frustrated rage.

    <><>​

    Sanctuary
    Monday, June 11, 2012


    “... Goodness me,” breathed Gladys, shaking her head slightly. “I really can't imagine hating someone that much.”

    “I don't think she hated me, as a person,” Taylor countered. “She barely knew me. Emma is the one who knew me. Sophia just hated the idea that someone she considered to be weak or beneath notice could rise up and be better than her. Stronger than her.”

    “Weren't you taking a risk, though?” asked Sveta. “She could out you. Unmask you to everyone she speaks to.”

    “She could,” agreed Taylor. “But I consider it to be an acceptable risk.”

    “Yeah,” Theo put in over her shoulder. “What's she going to do, broadcast to the world that Weaver, the extremely successful and popular hero, is actually the downtrodden wimp Taylor Hebert?”

    “And if that happens, the PRT then releases the fact that Taylor's the one who popped Zion,” added Lisa.

    “In any case, if that outburst was anywhere near as violent as you say, she might just end up in an asylum,” Sveta said hopefully. “That's where people like her belong.”

    Taylor relaxed back against Theo some more. “I'm pretty sure Mike's friend Contessa is keeping an eye on her, just in case.”

    “Contessa?” asked Danny. “I don't know that one.”

    “Not many people do.” Taylor took another drink from her lemonade. “She likes it that way.”

    <><>​

    Amy wasn't sure if her feet were touching the ground. Logically, she knew they had to be, but the emotions within her said otherwise. She wanted to sing, to dance, to show the world how she felt. Hugging the gleeful feeling to herself, she glanced sideways at Riley.

    The blonde was looking less than thrilled. Catching sight of Amy's grin, she rolled her eyes. “I can't believe you did that,” she muttered.

    “What?” Aisha, almost skipping on the other side of Amy, also seemed to be bubbling over; this time, with mischief. “What I did, or what she did?”

    “Both.” Riley stomped along as if she had a personal grudge against the ground. “That was highly irresponsible, Aisha, and you know it.”

    “Hey, irresponsibility is my middle name, or it woulda been if my mom knew how to spell it.” Aisha airily waved aside Riley's mood. “It turned out okay, didn't it? Anyway, she didn't have to do it.”

    Riley glowered. “You dared her to do it.”

    “And she accepted. What's the problem?” The angrier Riley got, the more chirpy Aisha's mood became. “You're just pissed that you lost the bet.”

    I never thought she'd do it!”

    “And that's what losing a bet feels like,” Aisha informed her smugly.

    <><>​

    “And here they are now,” Taylor announced, just before the trio rounded the corner. “Hi, Amy. How'd it go?” She knew, of course, but Amy probably would not have been thrilled to find out that she was under surveillance.

    “Oh, my,” Gladys interjected at the same moment. “Riley, what's the matter?”

    She's the matter,” snapped Riley, pointing at Aisha. “She's got no sense of, of propriety.”

    “Oh, god,” muttered Brian, coming to his feet. “Aisha, what did you do now?”

    “Why does it have to be something that I've done?” asked Aisha, the very picture of injured innocence.

    “Because it usually is,” Brian said flatly. “So what did you do?”

    “Nothing!”

    “It wasn't nothing, and you know it.” Riley glowered at her.

    “Oh, my god.” Lisa was sitting up and staring at Amy. “You didn't.”

    Amy nodded vigorously. “I did.”

    Taylor and Danny frowned at the same time, with almost exactly the same expression. Danny got in first by a split second. “Did what, Amy?”

    Amy hugged herself. “I kissed a girl!”

    Taylor's eyes went wide. “You didn't!”

    Amy nodded again, her hair bouncing wildly. “I did. I really did.”

    Danny cleared his throat. “You do realise, that as your father, I now have to ask embarrassing questions. Was this girl nice?”

    Amy nodded wordlessly, turning pink.

    “Do you think you want to see her again?”

    More nodding. Amy got pinker.

    “Do you think she wants to see you again?”

    Once again, she nodded. “She said she'd find me at the party tonight.”

    “Hm.” Danny rubbed his chin. “Well, that seems to be fairly harmless.”

    “She hasn't told you why she kissed Nara!” Riley burst out.

    Taylor stood up, then stepped down off the porch to Amy. “Okay. Why did you kiss this girl?”

    Amy hung her head. “Because Aisha dared me to,” she mumbled.

    Brian put his hand over his eyes. “Aisha,” he groaned.

    “What?” protested Aisha. “I had to do something. Riley was gonna win the bet, otherwise.”

    Sveta and Gladys spoke at the same time. “What bet?”

    Riley sighed in aggravation. “Aisha bet me that Amy was going to kiss one of the girls we introduced her to. I never thought she would. I mean, big sis is awesome in so many ways, but she's terminally shy. So I took her up on it. And then Aisha dared her. And Amy did it!”

    Lisa and Theo began laughing at the same time. Brian just shook his head and sat down again. Taylor, beginning to chuckle herself, hugged Amy tightly.

    “Congratulations,” she whispered into her sister's ear. “One more embarrassing question. Was it nice?”

    Amy's only answer was an emphatic nod.

    Taylor smiled. “Good.”

    <><>​

    Sanctuary
    Monday, June 11, 2012
    Almost Midnight


    The bonfire roared loudly; someone threw another log on, and sparks roiled into the air. The night was warm, so everyone was sitting a little way back from the fire, except for those few who were resistant or impervious to the flames. The atmosphere was convivial; drinks of varying level of alcoholic content were making the rounds. Off to the side, tables held the remains of the food that had been set out earlier.

    Several of the locals were playing musical instruments of various types; some looked normal, while others had obviously been made to suit strange body shapes. Paige was leading the singing, her gorgeous voice rising above all the others. Some of the songs were familiar to Taylor, while others were not. All, however, had easily learned choruses, and were fun to sing along to.

    The seating consisted of stone or log seats. Theo had examined these earlier on, and then used his power to give each of them a proper back. All the same, he was once more acting as a backrest for Taylor. She rather enjoyed leaning back against him; with his arms around her, it gave her a comforting sense of belonging.

    Next to them, Brian and Lisa were chatting with Danny and Gladys, while Sveta was off somewhere else. Amy was sitting nearby, with the Case 53 girl called Nara. Nara was about seventeen or eighteen and had blue scaly skin, while her hair had been replaced by odd flat tentacles. From what Taylor understood, she had the ability to generate a light static field over her body. Taylor couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but she suspected that there might be some hand-holding going on.

    Riley had apparently gotten over her annoyance with Aisha, given that she and the dark-haired girl were in a huddle with a few of Riley's friends. They were giggling over something; Taylor wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

    She lifted her glass of lemonade and took another drink. It really was very nice; she had never had anything quite like this back in Brockton Bay. “Hey,” she murmured back over her shoulder.

    “Hey,” Theo replied.

    “Comfy?”

    “Definitely.”

    “Not squashing you?”

    He snorted. “Like that's gonna happen.”

    “Thanks for coming along, by the way. I guess I kind of just assumed you'd want to come. I don't think I ever actually asked.”

    “Well, duh, I wanted to come along,” he retorted. “See where it all happened? I wasn't gonna pass that up. And Gladys is pretty cool, too.”

    “Mm.” She leaned back and turned her head, giving him a light peck on the lips. “Still, thanks.”

    “What for?”

    “Being you.”

    They settled down, his arms around her, her arms over his arms. It was warm and comfortable, and she felt loved and secure. In front of her, the bonfire roared and crackled; behind them, in the darkness, her bugs scouted and explored.

    “Hm.” She sat up slightly.

    “What's up?” he asked, tensing.

    “Nothing's wrong,” she assured him. “Rachel's back.”

    Sitting up more, she turned to watch as Rachel entered the circle of firelight. The stocky girl stopped at the tables and picked out a few scraps to toss to her dogs. The animals, now once more normal sized, snapped these out of the air. Rachel took a bone that had once held a weight of ham, and gnawed upon it as she approached where Taylor sat.

    Taylor waited till Rachel had plunked herself down on a log seat before turning to her. “Good run?”

    “Mm,” grunted Rachel. She tore more ham off with her teeth. “Saw tracks of some pretty big animals.”

    “Gladys says there's something like bison that get into their crops sometimes,” Theo said.

    “Big funny-looking cows?” Rachel took another bite of ham.

    “Sounds about right,” Taylor agreed.

    “Bison gotta eat, too.”

    “Yeah, but before Sanctuary was settled, there wasn't much for them to eat here. They're coming here for the crops.” Theo's voice was reasonable.

    “Hm.” Rachel tossed the bone to the dogs. “See what I can do.” She eyed the glass of lemonade that Taylor held. “That any good?”

    “Yeah, it is.”

    “Okay.” Getting up, Rachel moved over to the table, found a pitcher, and poured herself a cup.

    “So you're setting Rachel on the bison?” asked Taylor in a murmur. “What do you have against those poor innocent bison?”

    Theo laughed, then turned it into a cough as Rachel glanced suspiciously their way. Taylor concealed her smile by taking another drink of lemonade.

    “Ladies and gentlemen!” Joe's voice rose over the noise of conversation and the crackling of the flames. Taylor realised that the music had stopped without her noticing it. “You all know what day it is. What happened a year ago.”

    Everyone was listening now; only the calls of night-hunting birds competed with the crackling bonfire. “Sanctuary was new, then. We were barely established. Since then, we've grown together as a community. I might not be exactly one of you -”

    From out of the crowd, a voice called out, “Bullshit!”

    He chuckled. “Well, okay. I did volunteer to be here, so I guess that's one in my favour. Anyway. It's midnight in a few minutes, and then it'll be exactly one year since we gave shelter to Weaver and Gladys and Danny. One year since Weaver shot Zion. One year since the war started and ended. One year since we beat that big golden bastard, once and for all.”

    As the cheers spontaneously arose, Taylor became aware of something odd moving through the town, a large bulky object being towed toward the bonfire on a large flatbed trolley. Sveta was doing the towing, but the trolley wasn't cooperating. She was about to go and give some assistance, when she realised that Joe was still talking.

    “So anyway, Mike Allen couldn't be here …” He bowed his head for just a moment, and most of the audience, those with recognisable heads, did the same. “But we do have the other three who were here, including Weaver herself!”

    “What?” she murmured. “Nobody told me …”

    But Theo was already nudging her. “Go on,” he whispered. “Get up there.”

    Reluctantly, she climbed to her feet, handing off her glass to Theo, and made her way through the crowd to where Joe stood on a makeshift podium. As she stepped up beside him, the crowd applauded once more. On an impulse, she brought a swarm of bugs down to stream through the firelight and out the other side. More clapping and cheers resulted.

    “Uh, thank you,” she called out. “I didn't have a speech prepared, so I'll just say thanks again, and I hope we all have a great night.”

    Before she could be roped into saying more, she stepped down off of the podium and back into the crowd. More applause followed her; several members of the crowd held up their hands for her to high-five.

    Sveta hauled the flatbed trolley into the area before the bonfire; now that Taylor could see it clearly, she could tell that whatever was on the trolley had a sheet draped over it. However, she still couldn't figure out what was under the sheet, with the limited number of bugs under there.

    “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” Joe continued, “it's midnight! It's Vee-Zee day! If you can, please stand.”

    Taylor hadn't yet sat down, so she stayed standing and turned to watch what was going on.

    “Today,” Joe said, “we honour those who fell so that we might live. And we honour those who did what had to be done. Everyone, fill your cups.”

    Taylor felt Theo nudging a cup into her hand; it was her glass of lemonade. “Thanks,” she murmured.

    “Everyone, a toast! To Michael Allen, who made the ultimate sacrifice!”

    Taylor heard Michael's name being murmured over again, as she herself repeated it. As she took a sip of her drink, she recalled a comment by Gladys. It was the older woman's belief that, once the inhabitants of Sanctuary began to have children, a large number of them would be called 'Michael' or some derivative thereof. Right now, I would not be surprised.

    “To Weaver, who fired the shot!”

    Taylor flushed as Theo and everyone around her deliberately turned to face her before raising their glasses.

    “And to Dragon, who finished Zion off!”

    This toast Taylor could make; she took a larger drink from her glass. But Joe wasn't finished. “And now, to commemorate this day, here's something that our very own Sveta has been working on for most of the year!” He gave Sveta a nod, and tendrils flowed out to grasp the sheet, whipping it off in one smooth movement.

    It was a statue; Taylor could see that now. The statue was of her and of Mike Allen; she was in costume as Weaver, while he was in plain clothes. His hand was on her shoulder, as if giving encouragement and guidance. As he did, so many times. Tears pricked her eyes, to see his likeness standing there, the flickering firelight giving it the illusion of life.

    As the applause arose, Gladys frowned. “He didn't want a statue,” she said, just loudly enough for Taylor to hear. “He said so, in his will.”

    Taylor was just opening her mouth to ask what will? when there was a tremendous crack and crash from overhead. Lightning lanced down from the clouds that had gathered unnoticed, striking the statue. The baked clay that made up the core of it flew apart, the pieces miraculously missing all and sundry. All that was left was the part that showed Taylor in costume.

    “Well, crap,” Riley remarked into the silence that followed. “He said he'd find a way to tell us he was still alive.”

    <><>​

    Sanctuary
    Tuesday Midday, June 12, 2012


    “You're leaving already? But you only got here yesterday.” Gladys looked upset.

    Danny shrugged. “I'm sorry. Believe me, I'm sorry. I'd love to stay even one more day. Or a week, or a month. But work will already be piling up for me, and Taylor and the others have their own responsibilities.”

    She sighed. “Okay, yes. I understand. But you will come back and visit, yes? And don't wait a year this time.”

    “I promise.” He stepped up and hugged her. “Thank you for having us.”

    “Thank you for coming,” she replied, returning the hug.

    “I'll definitely come back when I can,” Taylor assured her, then was treated to a hug of her own. “And I'll bring Theo again.”

    “Darn right you will,” Theo agreed. “This was fun.”

    “Uh, Rachel said to say that she'd be hanging around for a few days,” Lisa put in. “She said something about dealing with your bison problem.”

    “Oh.” Gladys brightened. “Well, that's something anyway, I guess.”

    Still talking, they stepped out on to the porch, where Brian was chatting with Sveta. “Anyone seen Amy?” asked Danny.

    “Gone to see Nara?” hazarded Brian. “Riley and Aisha are missing too.”

    Taylor focused on her bugs, spreading her awareness out. She'd brought a few relay bugs, and they were expanding her radius of capability quite nicely. “Found them.”

    Danny frowned. “Well, where are they?”

    “On the way back here.”

    “Good.” Danny checked his watch. “We've still got to make the walk to the train stop.”

    “It's okay, Dad, “Taylor assured him. “We'll make it. They're not far away.”

    <><>​

    When Amy did arrive, she brought with her not only Riley and Aisha, but also Nara. The blue-skinned girl smiled shyly and hung back a little, but Amy kept a grip on her hand.

    Taylor walked up to them. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna just stay behind,” she said cheerfully.

    Amy turned pink; she seemed to be doing a lot of that. “I'd like to. I'd really like to. But I know there's stuff I've gotta do back in Brockton Bay.” She turned to Nara. “But I'll be back. I promise. And this time I'll stay. A week, maybe more.”

    Nara nodded. “I'd like that,” she replied. “I'd like that a whole lot.”

    “And in the meantime you can email each other, or just chat online,” Gladys pointed out.

    Theo blinked. “What? You've got the internet here?”

    Sveta chuckled. “Well, yes. They ran a line through the portal and put up repeater towers. How do you think I keep in touch with Dragon for the game?”

    “Uh, game?” asked Brian. “What game?”

    “Oh, it was something that Mike started up with me, back when I was in the asylum,” Sveta explained. “He gave all the details of the world to Dragon, and now she's running it. I'm playing something called a 'Queen's Rider'. It's a lot of fun.”

    “So wait, you've got this awesome town in the middle of nowhere, you've got sailing boats to catch fish, and you still use the internet?” Aisha shook her head. “Wow. Just wow.”

    Danny cleared his throat. “I hate to be the responsible adult here, but we've still got to get back to the train stop.” He picked up his overnight bag. “Thanks again for putting us up, Gladys. I'll see you again sometime.”

    “I'll hold you to that,” the teacher replied. She watched fondly as Riley embraced Amy.

    “You come back soon, big sis,” the bio-tinker told the biokinetic. “I miss you a lot.”

    “I already said I would, but yeah, I'll be back.” Amy grinned at Riley. “And I am so gonna tease you when you fall for a boy for the first time.”

    Riley rolled her eyes. “Pfft, never happen.”

    “Uh huh, right.” Amy turned to Nara, then glanced at the others. Theo and Brian studiously looked off into the distance, while Taylor made go-ahead gestures. Aisha openly grinned as Amy leaned in and kissed the blue-skinned girl, then clung to her for a moment.

    “Okay,” Amy said roughly as she broke the embrace. “Let's go.” She didn't look back, but Taylor caught her wiping her eyes. Stepping up alongside Amy, Taylor put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze.

    “It's so sweet,” Theo observed cheerfully. “Our little Amy's growing up.”

    “I'm older than both of you, and you know it,” Amy muttered, then blew her nose.

    “Hey, I'm younger than all of you, and I've had more kisses than Amy,” Aisha declared.

    “Oh, really?” Brian's voice was full of interest, and not in a good way. “So whose kneecaps do I have to break, once we get back to Brockton Bay?”

    Aisha made a rude noise. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

    As her friends bantered, Taylor caught Danny's eye and grinned; he grinned back. Life was looking good; there would be challenges ahead, but with luck and the help of those near and dear to her, she would be able to face and overcome them.


    End of Epilogue One

    <><>​

    Epilogue Two: Mike


    Life was looking good; there would be challenges ahead, but with luck and the help of those near and dear to her, she would be able to face and overcome them.

    I blinked myself awake as I typed these words. “What the hell?” I muttered, looking at the text on the screen. Slowly, I scrolled upward. Page after page of story was there, stuff I didn't remember typing. But it was stuff that I had dreamed.

    “Okay, that was weird.” I knew I was talking out loud; it's an old habit, from years of living alone. “Did I just dream that and type it up in my dream, or what?”

    Putting the laptop down on the small table I use to rest my legs on, I got up and went to the fridge. Taking a bottle of water out – I keep several there for that purpose – I swigged from it, feeling the coolness spreading through my chest and stomach. It didn't wake me up as much as I wanted, so I went and had a shower. Standing in the cubicle with the warm water running over me, I felt my head clearing.

    “Did I just dream that, or did I actually go somewhere else?” I asked the shower wall. A moment later, I chuckled. “Yes.” It was the age-old question; when we dream, does it all happen in our own skull or do our consciousnesses actually travel to far-distant worlds?

    I was ill-equipped to answer that one, so I shelved it for the moment. After drying off, I got dressed and went back to read over what I had written.

    It was actually pretty good. Reading through it, I found myself reliving the dream. Unlike most of my dreams, it had been coherent, and I was able to recall large chunks of it.

    “Huh. It was an interesting experience, but I don't think I want to repeat it.” I set about posting it to Spacebattles, Sufficient Velocity, Questionable Questing and Fanfiction dot net, as I usually did. That done, I wondered what I would do next.

    Hm, I thought. Maybe a sequel.

    The reviews were already starting to come in; I read over a few of them, and was encouraged. People seemed to like the character 'Michael Allen', so I figured that I could use him, er, me, again. The only trouble was, he was dead. In that world, anyway.

    “So,” I mused, “Let's do something different.”

    <><>​

    Lisa sat at her computer. Since returning from Sanctuary, she'd spent a lot of time thinking about Michael Allen, and the story that he had apparently written, the one that she had lived through. She had also started browsing all the fanfiction sites she could find online, trying to get an insight into the mind of the fanfiction writer.

    He enjoyed being the smartest person in the room, especially when I was around, she told herself. He wrote himself that way, even though he knew that would annoy the crap out of me.

    Leaning back, she mused over that, while her power made other connections. This was not the first fanfiction he's written, she realised. No fanfiction writer ever kills off their self-insert on the very first fic. What else has he written? And what's he had us do in the other ones?

    She thought about that for a while. He's a guy. He lives alone. No love life until he met Gladys. Which was kind of a surprise for him. So … The connections were inevitable.

    Her lips tightened. Write that sort of fanfiction about me, will you? Opening a new word-processing document, she began to type. Let's see how you like it.

    <><>​

    I found my fingers typing without my conscious volition. I, Panacea spelled itself at the top of the new document. I blinked. What?

    I felt my consciousness slipping away, even as I typed more lines. The truth came to me, all too late. I went somewhere, all right. I fell into the story.

    My last conscious thought was, Oh god, here we go again.


    End of Epilogue Two

    End of Security!


    Thank you for reading. This story is over, but Michael Allen's adventures continue here.


    29/05/16
     
    Last edited: May 29, 2016
  17. GladiusLucix

    GladiusLucix Versed in the lewd.

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    Is this implying that I, Panacea is being written by Security!'s Lisa? :confused:
     
  18. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Not implying, no.

    :p
     
  19. godzillahomer

    godzillahomer Know what you're doing yet?

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    Think you broke Sophia, at least she didn't second trigger

    she also likes cookies

    And she liked it ;)
     
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  20. Feiron

    Feiron Warm and fuzzy

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    And that raps up Security. Thanks for an amazingly entertaining fic Ack <internet hug> I'm guessing that with the "epilogue one" thing that there might be more as and when inspiration strikes :D

    Just realised: Amy is dating an Asari! That. Is. Fucking. Awesome.

    But I guess that means Zion/Eden ate them... less awesome... but still; squee!

    Thank you Ack. Take a bow. Now get back to work.

    Seriously though; thanks.
     
  21. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Well, she didn't when she had the brain-melt in canon.



    Yup.
     
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  22. Starfox5

    Starfox5 Experienced.

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    Good ending full of feels and a twist.
     
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  23. Mr. Tebbs

    Mr. Tebbs Not too sore, are you?

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    Flat out telling.
     
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  24. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    There were two epilogues. The second one is right at the back end of the last section.
     
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  25. Ephemeral

    Ephemeral Cute Kuudere Healslut

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    One mile above Sanctuary, a square of light, a window in reality, slowly closed. Contessa twirled her Armsmaster Brand Lightning Blaster around her finger, blew across the business end, and slid it into its holster as she turned away from the closing portal.

    Path to executing Mike's will, complete.


    OMG I totally missed that. The 'head tentacle' thing threw me, because Asari have bone crests, not head tentacles, but hah.
     
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  26. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    And that might be actually what happened :p

    Well, here's the funny thing. I've never played Mass Effect. I've watched others playing, but never actually taken notice of the races. I threw together Nara's description on the fly; originally she was going to have long purplish hair. But looking at images of Asari since the word starting popping up, and it looks like tentacles or tendrils to me.
     
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  27. Unclouded

    Unclouded Unthawed Freeloader

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    It's not actually explained that they're bone crests until an optional thing in Mass Effect 3 so it's understandable.

    Enjoyed the story a lot and figured I'd thank you for the work you put into this. Rereading I, Panacea now to get a better mindset of where Mike is.
     
  28. godzillahomer

    godzillahomer Know what you're doing yet?

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    Yeah, she needs Jack Slash to second trigger ;)
     
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  29. Zackarix

    Zackarix Hera's Divorce Lawyer

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    Poor Lisa. Realizing that you're a fictional character is bad enough. Being a fanfic character is even worse. But knowing that you're in a SI fic written by an author who has written porn of you? There are some things that (wo)man was not meant to know.

    Just out of curiousity, now that Security! is done, what's the next fic that is closest to being finished?
     
  30. Ack

    Ack (Verified Ratbag) (Unverified Great Old One)

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    Hm. they're all pretty-well open ended. I, Panacea will be ending at some point, but it's a ways away from that.
     
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