The Slippery Slope [Worm AU]

The Slippery Slope

Part Ten: Enmities and Allegiances

[A/N: This chapter beta-read (and much improved upon) by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



A strange kind of calm fell over me as I swung my legs over the lip of the trunk and climbed out. I was assimilating what my power was telling me; however, I could not make any real use of it until I thought like the very machines that I was trying to control. Frivolous data, such as emotion, became redundant.

Standing near the car, just now looking around at me, were members of Lung's gang. The Azn Bad Boyz.

Non-cape adversaries: twelve. Names irrelevant.

Specialist combat training: unlikely.

Possibility of evasion: low.

Leaving that problem to be dealt with in time, I looked farther outward.

Cape adversaries: Two. Lung and Oni Lee.

Two versus one. Analysis: Formidable.

Winning strategy: Formulating.

My mind fell to calculating plans. Factors fell into place like the polished cogs of a well-designed mechanism.

Optimally, when opposing a cape the idea was to avoid engagement. Tried and failed.

The next best concept was to use a surprise attack to render the enemy cape harmless or unable to retaliate. Lung, possibly. Oni Lee, unlikely.

Lastly, I could use their fixation on me to lure them into an environment where they could not use their powers to advantage. Promising.

That decided, the next order of business was to catalogue the tools I had at hand. My power carried out that task in an instant, assimilating the numbers as quickly as it took me to formulate the requirement.

Fourteen vehicles, condition satisfactory. Assigning numbers one through twelve. Assigning tags “my car”, “Peter's truck”. Six of these were parked at the side of the road, but my needs outweighed the needs of the owners. One vehicle, inverted. Useless. Irrelevant.

Eighteen firearms; pistols, semi-automatic. Five discarded. Irrelevant. Ignore.

Assigning pistols numbers one through thirteen. Eight grenades; potentially useful. Ten switchblades; irrelevant. Ignore.

Step two: locate powered adversaries. Oni Lee located. Lung located.

The former, wearing a pistol as well as the bandolier of grenades, was standing off to the side of the loose crowd formed by the Azn Bad Boys. His black bodysuit blended into the shadows quite well, the effect only spoiled by the colourful demon mask. If his intent, on the other hand, was to present the impression of a floating demonic head, then he was moderately successful.

The latter was standing over Peter and my father. It did not appear that he had done anything to them as yet. In fact, both capes seemed to be distracted; they were shaking their heads, looking around in a puzzled fashion. Unknown outside factor. Advantage gained.

Initial plan; detonate grenades.

If I could force the grenades to explode at range, I could dispose of the teleporting killer. I attempted it. It didn't work.

Internal mechanism designed to prevent accidental detonation. Undoubtedly, the ongoing efforts of generations of low-intelligence Army recruits had forced the designers of the latest type of grenade to make it as hard as possible to cause it to explode without actually removing the pin.

Remove pin with powers. Again, I was unable to carry out the plan. The pins had been bent in such a way that made it impossible for my powers to remove them from the grenades. Available force from power insufficient to achieve goal.

Secondary plan in effect.

Step one: remove Azn Bad Boyz.

It seemed that the average gang member disregarded basic firearm safety as often as he disregarded the law. While they knew enough to set the safety catch on their pistols, the overwhelming majority had apparently decided that the waistband was an adequate location in which to carry said pistol. Of the dozen non-capes, eight had tucked their pistols into the front of their pants, while three had them in the back. Just one wore a shoulder holster.

The gang members were slow to react to my inexplicable emergence from the trunk of the car. The three closest men were advancing on me, hands out to seize me, mouths opening to call out an alert.

Assume positive control: pistols one through twelve.

Pistols one through eleven: Safety catches off. Initiate rapid fire. Repeat until empty.

Too late, I remembered to cover my ears as gunfire erupted all around me. Deafeningly loud, it almost managed to drown out the screams of agony from the stricken gang members.

Eleven cases of moderate to serious injury: groin, buttocks, legs, feet.

Conclusion: Adversaries one through eleven out of commission.

Adversary twelve remaining.

Pistol twelve: immobilise mechanism.

The man with the shoulder holster pulled his pistol, took two steps away from the car that he had been leaning on, and looked around to search for the danger. He saw me, aimed the pistol, and pulled the trigger. The weapon, of course, failed to fire.

Assume positive control of car number seven. Remove adversary twelve via vehicular assault.

The car lunged forward and struck him, then stopped. He fell to the asphalt in front of the car. It backed up, then ran over him. He didn't get up.

Step two: engage capes.

Lung was the first to react; he turned away from Peter and my father, and advanced toward me. Or rather, he was advancing toward the carnage.

Analysis of intent: unknown. Irrelevant.

Assume positive control: vehicle tagged as “Peter's Truck”. Initiate vehicular assault on target 'Lung'.

The vehicle was large and heavy, but its tyres were capable of gripping the asphalt quite well. With my power driving the wheels, it accelerated more quickly than its engine would have been able to manage, smashing into Lung's back and driving him into the road surface. Never slowing, it ran two wheels up over him, and on to the road beyond.

Result: Target 'Lung' down, but not incapacitated.

Damage to front of Peter's Truck: minor/irrelevant.

Repeat process as needed.

Locking all four wheels, the truck rocked to a halt. Lung stirred and sat up, just as the heavy vehicle reversed course. He was knocked prone for a second time, forced to the asphalt as the chunky wheels ground over his body.

Damage potential: high.

Data on target 'Lung' includes power of biological regeneration, growth, pyrokinesis.

Possibility of vehicular assault resulting in fatal damage: low.

Projection: target 'Lung' will increase in size, assume armoured form, begin to emit flame.

Recommendation: repeat vehicular assault as necessary.

It took the truck running Lung down to jolt Oni Lee into action. He began to turn his head, looking around in an attempt to determine the proximate cause of the catastrophe that had overtaken the Azn Bad Boys.

Assume positive control of vehicle tagged “my car”.

Open front passenger door of “my car”.

Get into “my car” and close door loudly.

An instant later, Oni Lee stood outside the car door, staring through the window.

Six potential assault parameters projected. Prepare countermeasures. I drew my legs up on to the seat, holding my knees close to me. With my free hand, I took hold of the dashboard.

Stepping forward, he opened the car door and reached in to grab me.

Conclusion: still adhering to 'live capture' order.

Attack parameter two detected.

Perform countermeasure; close door at correct moment.

As his left hand passed the doorframe, I used my power on the hinges of the door, easily breaking his grip on it and slamming it shut on his wrist.

Countermeasure: successful.

Potential for damage to wrist: high.

The unique pattern of eight grenades appeared for a second time, behind the first. Oni Lee stepped up to the car as his clone crumbled to ash, allowing the door to slam shut. He produced his pistol; pointing it at the glass, he gestured. He may have also been saying something, but between the level of trauma to my hearing, and the glass he was trying to speak through, I heard nothing.

Attack parameter one detected.

Perform countermeasure: immobilise pistol mechanism.

I saw his finger move, compressing the trigger. Nothing happened.

Analysis of angle indicates an attempt to break window with bullet.

Conclusion: Target 'Oni Lee' still operating on non-lethal parameters.

Target 'Lung' has enlarged, as projected. Assume positive control of vehicles one through four. Initiate random vehicular assault on target 'Lung'.

Oni Lee stepped up to the car door and attempted to smash the glass with the butt of his pistol.

Attack parameter three detected.

Perform countermeasures: open door, maximum speed.

While he was still in the middle of his first swing, the door unlatched and swung outward, knocking him off his feet. Abruptly, he appeared within the car, seated directly behind me.

Attack parameter four detected.

Perform countermeasures: assault target 'Oni Lee' with seat.

As I held my knees out of the way, my seat slammed forward on the runners. When it reached its limit of forward motion, the seat back dropped down hard, landing on his lap. Then the entire seat reversed its direction of travel, just as fast as it had gone forward. This drove the headrest into his solar plexus. It may or may not have injured his ribs. Almost certainly, it drove the wind out of him.

He was still there when his next clone appeared in the driver's seat, beside me.

Attack parameter six detected.

Target 'Oni Lee' now armed with knife.

Conclusion: non-lethal parameters no longer in effect.

He was holding the knife in his right hand, swinging it in a way that telegraphed his intent to stab me.

Perform countermeasures: airbag and seat assault.

I triggered the airbag at the same time as I rammed his seat as far forward as possible.

Airbag expansion speed: two hundred mph.

Result of impact: knife dropped.

Possibility of injury from airbag impact: moderate to high.

Possibility of injury to sternum from impact with steering wheel: low to moderate.

Possibility of injury to knees from impact with car interior: moderate to high.

Assume positive control over bandolier clasp. Open bandolier clasp.

Assault target 'Oni Lee' with seat again. Take hold of bandolier.

Abruptly, he crumbled to ash as well, but the bandolier remained in my hands. I saw him briefly, standing some distance away from the car. His left arm hung limply at his side, and he held his right arm carefully. Then he crumbled to ash and did not reappear.

Analysis: target 'Oni Lee' has retreated.

I climbed from the car and considered my next move. Lung was growing bigger, and starting to exude flame while metal scales covered his body. This was having little effect on the vehicles I was using to shove him around, given that all I needed from them was four working wheels.

Step three: remove target 'Lung' from vicinity of injured allies tagged 'Peter', 'Father', 'Jenna'.

Assume positive control of vehicles five through twelve plus “my car”.

Initiate asymmetrical vehicular assault against target 'Lung'.

Withdraw “Peter's truck” from assault group.

The nine cars homed in on Lung as I pulled Peter's truck out of the melee. Instead of battering him randomly from side to side, they concentrated their efforts in one direction; specifically, away from myself, my friends and my father. Step by step, roaring loudly (or so my returning hearing told me) he was driven away. The metal talons with which he clawed at the cars were quite impressive, but they did not help him in the slightest.

Initiate life signs check on allies. Use bandages to reduce flow of blood from wounds.

Taking a handful of the bandages from the medical kit, I moved to where Peter lay next to my father. He was breathing. Pulling up his shirt, I taped a bandage over the middle of the bloodstain on his chest.

Analysis: Ally 'Peter' still functional. Injuries: bullet to chest, broken nose. Unknown internal damage.

I went to my father, and found that he was also still alive. The bandage which Bronson had placed on his side was now stained with blood.

Analysis: Ally 'Father' still functional. Injuries: bullet to side, damage to skull. Unknown internal damage.

Getting up, I went and knelt by Jenna, who was now lying in a pool of her own blood.

Analysis: Ally 'Jenna' still functional. Injury: bullet to back. Unknown internal damage.

Her injury was more difficult to get to, but I managed to tear her shirt. Taping the bandage over the wound seemed to slow the bleeding.

Further action: keep Lung away.

Probability that allies will die soon from wounds: high.

Analysis: death of one or more allies will cause problematic emotional reaction in long run.

Conclusion: seek aid. Complication: phone unavailable.

While applying bandages, I had been able to keep note of Lung's position; while my power allowed me to operate machines outside of my line of sight, it did not let me keep track of adversaries who were not conveniently carrying machines of some sort.

Complication: searching for phone will necessitate removing attention from Lung. Already, he had disabled two of the cars when I had let them stand idle for too long.

Complication: allies will die if not assisted.

Complication: lacking knowledge to assist allies.

Complication: lacking ability to transport allies to assistance.

Conclusion: Allies will die. Situation sub-optimal.

As I concentrated on pushing Lung back to the edge of my range, my power picked up something else.

New factor: two vehicles approaching. Not police. Occupants armed. Allegiance unknown.

Assume positive control of vehicles and weapons. Bring vehicles close. Inspect occupants.

I could feel the drivers of the cars attempting to fight my control over the vehicles, but they weren't being given a choice in the matter. Keeping one eye on Lung, I guided them closer to me.

Vehicles three, six, eight and nine disabled. Increase intensity of assault. Retrieve vehicle two.

Lung, now almost ten feet tall, was beginning to win against the constant vehicular assault. Where he regenerated, they did not. His flame was beginning to melt tyres and seize important working parts. I needed to end this.

Bringing the newly-arrived cars to a halt before me, I looked at the occupants.

Preliminary analysis: attitude non-hostile.

Secondary analysis: colours worn are Empire Eighty-Eight, not Azn Bad Boyz.

Tertiary analysis: positive identification of Empire capes Victor and Othala.

I opened the car doors. Victor and Othala emerged, accompanied by shaven-headed men and women, each showing signs of Empire membership.

Conclusion: Allies.

Turning my attention back to Lung and the car now approaching us, I spoke out loud. “Peter is hurt, there.” My finger pointed unerringly. “My father is hurt, there. Jenna is hurt, there.”

“Are you hurt, Taylor?” That was Othala. “You're covered in blood.”

“And are those grenades?” That was Victor.

“The blood is not mine. The grenades belonged to Oni Lee. Assist them.” Use of politeness may improve quality of assistance. “Please.”

“Yes – yes, of course.” She darted away, toward Peter and my father. Victor gave me a long look, then went toward Jenna.

Car two rolled up to me; I opened the trunk. Assume positive control of grenades. Prevent explosions. As I pulled the pin from each grenade in turn, I heard loud exclamations from around me. Glancing around before returning my attention to Lung, I saw the Empire allies diving for cover.

“Taylor!” Victor still knelt beside Jenna. His voice was somewhat higher-pitched than before. “Those are grenades! Get rid of them!”

“That is what I am doing.” I dropped the bandolier in the trunk, which shut at my command. The car moved off, toward Lung. In the meantime, he had disabled two more vehicles.

Victor looked at me, then at the car. I dropped the eight pins on the road; he flinched. “Wait … are you controlling them?”

“Yes.”

He drew a deep breath, apparently in the grip of some strong emotion. “You could've warned us!”

“I was busy. You were busy.” Use of politeness may prevent rift with allies. “Sorry.”

“Okay. That's all right. Just don't do it again without telling someone.” He turned his attention to Jenna. “Honey, she's fading fast, here.”

Analysis: Ally 'Victor' is addressing ally 'Othala'.

“Peter and Mr Hebert aren't doing well either,” she replied. Getting up, she hurried over. “See what you can do for them, please?”

“Will do.” He got up. “Can you save them?”

She did not look at him as she replied. “One, sure. Two, maybe. Three, with injuries this bad? I can slow it down but I can't stop it.”

Car two was approaching Lung. It turned and reversed toward him. As it reached him, I released my control on the grenades, and opened the trunk.

Warn allies of impending event.

“Explosion,” I said out loud.

“What?” asked Victor.

The eight grenades vanished from my perceptions, as did the car. A shattering BOOM echoed down the street, breaking windows as it came. I saw something small and silvery, perhaps an arm, fly in a lazy arc until it impacted the street. “Can Lung live without his arm?”

“Probably,” Victor said. “We're going to need to get these people out of here anyway. Hospital?”

Othala wiped her face with the back of her arm. “I give them a one in three chance for that.”

“Unacceptable.” They looked around at me. “Find a better alternative.” Use of politeness may increase possibility of attaining more favourable result. “Please.”

Victor's face creased. Analysis: sub-optimal situation. “I can think of one thing.” Peeling the bloodstained glove from his right hand, he reached into his belt and produced a phone. He pressed speed-dial and held the phone to his ear.

“Sir, it's me. Yes, it's bad. Young Ferguson is down, and so is Miss Parsons, and Mr Hebert. Taylor? No, she's fine. She's right here. Apparently she had an event. Yes, I'm sure. But the others are critically injured. The hospital will be too little, too late. Yes, sir, she's trying, but it won't be enough. We need Panacea, sir.” A pause. “Yes, sir, I'll wait.”

Projection: transport required for injured allies. Resume positive control of “Peter's Truck”.

Within the truck, the seats were sliding forward, the backrests reclining as far as they would go. It would not be the most comfortable of beds, but it was far better than nothing.

Victor turned to me. “He's making inquiries. We have people in the PRT, who occasionally pass on useful information to us. Unfortunately, if one of them does happen to know where Panacea is, it may put him in a difficult position.”

I moved my head in a nod. “We need that information immediately. They can ride in that.” I pointed at Peter's truck.

He stared. “You have to be joking. The front end is wrecked.”

“That does not matter,” I told him. “The wheels work. I will guide it.”

He gave me a long stare. “ … okay.” Raising his voice, he gave orders. Men hurried to obey him, and then the phone rang again. He held it to his ear.

“Yes, sir. The Boardwalk, toward the southern end? Thank you, sir. On our way.”

Conclusion: Empire has superior information-gathering capabilities. Useful allies.

Following the explosion, Lung was either dead, unconscious or gone. I kept watch, the few remaining vehicles at the ready, but nothing attacked us.

“Taylor?” It was Victor. “We're ready to go.”

I looked at Peter's truck. Peter, Jenna and my father had been placed side by side on the now-horizontal seats. Othala shared the space with them. As I watched, she laid her hand on Peter's arm. Regeneration power. Useful.

I climbed into the passenger seat of Victor's car. As we moved off, Peter's truck followed. The second car fell in behind. Victor accelerated quickly.

We had barely gone half a block when Victor said, “Fuck.”

Context: profanity.

Conclusion: sub-optimal situation.

I looked at him. “What?”

He pointed ahead. “Cops.”

He was correct; I inspected the flashing red and blue lights, which were approaching quite rapidly. “They will try to stop us. You are exceeding the posted speed limit.”

“Only way to get them there on time, kid.”

Conclusion: correct.

Corollary: speed must not be reduced. Police must not succeed.

I turned to him. “Keep going.”

“Well, I wasn't about to stop, kid.”

There was an odd tone to his voice. I ignored it. “They will not stop us.”

“Well, good to hear.”

Assume positive control of vehicles tagged 'police cars'. Move vehicles aside and apply brakes. Disable engines.

Our three-vehicle convoy blew past the four stopped police cars. I tuned out the muttered comments from the back seat; they were irrelevant. Police cars were not the only ones that could slow us down. Ahead of us, as vehicles entered my range of effect, I steered them so that we would not be endangered.

Assume positive control.

Assume positive control.

Assume positive control.

We travelled within a bubble of my effect; nothing entered it that I did not allow. Victor drove very fast indeed, pushing the capabilities of the vehicle we were riding in. Peter's truck mimicked his every move; I utilised the suspension system to shift its weight and take corners as tightly as Victor did.

Vehicle carrying Empire allies falling behind.

Assume positive control. Allies may be necessary.

<><>​

“Oh, man, I needed this.” Amy Dallon took a bite from her ice cream cone. The rich, thick chocolate taste filled her mouth.

“Did I tell you or did I tell you?” Vicky seemed to be brimming with barely-concealed amusement. “You were going stir crazy in that damn hospital.”

Amy swallowed the mouthful of ice cream. “No, it's normally not that bad,” she explained hastily. “But these last couple of days've been crazy.”

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Gonna have to narrow it down a bit, Ames. We live in Brockton Bay.”

“Yeah, well.” Amy leaned her elbows on the railing and looked out to sea. The sun had set behind Captain's Hill not so long ago. Purplish shadows were gathering to the east, highlighted by the shimmering rainbow colours of the Protectorate headquarters' force field. She thought it looked beautiful, like something from fairyland. Which was a pity, because she was stuck in the real world. “Stupid fucking gang conflicts. Bunch of Asian kids, our age or less. They've been coming in to the hospital over the last few days.”

Her sister leaned on the rail with her elbows, looking over at Amy. “ABB, you think?”

Amy snorted, darkly amused. “'Think'? I'm damn certain of it. But they're patients at the hospital, so I heal 'em. Night before last, it was a whole lot of knife wounds, and a pair that'd been run down by a car or something. They were pretty busted up. Last night, it was a bunch of kids that the Empire just grabbed and beat the shit out of. No reason given, except for a name one of the kids kept mumbling.”

“A name?” Vicky tilted her head.

“Yeah.” Amy sighed, the memory of the kid's bloodied and bruised face coming back to her. He'd been concussed all to fuck, but at least he was alive. “'Taylor Hebert. Stay away from Taylor Hebert.' That's what he kept saying.”

Vicky blinked. “Hebert, you say? Not Herbert?”

Amy looked at her, a little puzzled. “No, it was definitely 'Hebert'. Why, do you know someone with that name?”

“Well, yes and no.” Vicky bit her lip. “There's something I overheard in the Wards base awhile ago, while I was waiting for Dean. The name Hebert came up.”

Amy waited for a moment or two, but Vicky didn't say any more. “Well, what was it?”

Vicky grimaced. “You know the Dock Workers Association?”

It took Amy a few seconds of frowning with concentration to place the name, but she managed to get it in the end. “Yeah, I've heard of them. They're pretty well down the drain, aren't they? No real dock work and all.”

“Something like that,” Vicky agreed. “Well, the head of hiring is a guy called Danny Hebert. And he's got a daughter called Taylor. She goes to Winslow.”

It was Amy's turn to make a face. “I've heard of that place. They say it makes a shithole look clean and pretty.”

Vicky nodded. “And it's where the gangs do a lot of their recruiting. ABB, Eighty-Eight, Merchants, whatever. Apparently, the teachers just look the other way. Well, it's that or get shanked.”

“Okay, I get the picture. If an Endbringer showed up, it'd be an improvement. But what about Taylor Hebert?” However, Amy was starting to get an idea.

“Well, apparently Shadow Stalker goes to Winslow. And she was talking about how not only was Danny Hebert well in with the Empire Eighty-Eight, but his daughter Taylor's dating the top shit of the Empire inside Winslow. One big happy family.”

Amy felt a little ill. “So these ABB guys got cut up, run down, and beat up, just to send a message? Don't go near the almighty Taylor Hebert?”

Vicky nodded. “That's about the size of it. Shadow Stalker wasn't too clear on whether this Taylor's actually been initiated into the Empire or she's still just a hanger-on, but she sits at their table and eats with them. Probably tells horrible racist jokes with the best of them.”

“Well, shit, if her Dad's in Kaiser's pocket, she probably grew up with them. And she probably doesn't even see anything wrong with it.”

Vicky looked pensive for a moment. “I don't really like Shadow Stalker. She's a raging bitch most of the time, but the way she was talking, this Taylor Hebert was like the spawn of Satan. Kind of puts things into perspective, doesn't it?”

Amy shook her head. “Fucking Empire Eighty-Eight. I am so over this shit.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Vicky looked around. “What the hell …?”

<><>​

Vehicle engine exceeding safe limits of performance. Assume positive control. Increase flow of coolant and lubricant.

Yet another car veered out of our way into a parking spot as Victor drove down alongside the Boardwalk at a relatively unsafe speed. “They're along here somewhere,” he said.

Tone indicates tension. Target 'Panacea' may escape notice.

I stared at the Boardwalk and the people on it.

Cease searching for target 'Panacea'. Target 'Glory Girl' more high profile.

“Look for Glory Girl,” I said. “Easier to spot.”

“Shit, you're right.” His lips tightened. “Good thinking.”

I did not waste time answering. My eyes selected one target after another evaluating, discarding.

Too tall. Too short. Too old. Overweight. Too young. With a boy, no Panacea. Hair too short. Too old.

When I saw her, I felt the factors coincide with an almost audible click. Blonde, tall, with companion short, female, brunette. “There,” I said, pointing.

Apply brakes. Pull to side of road.

Victor made an exclamation of some sort as the car abruptly slowed, but I was not listening. I tracked Panacea with my eyes. With the car at a halt, I unfastened my seat belt and dropped my powers.

<><>​

As I climbed from the car, I felt the emotions come back … all of them. They crashed into my mind with an impact that nearly dropped me to my knees. Somehow, I pushed through them, staggered on. My pain, my grief, my fear, all swirled together in my head. I wanted to throw up. Somehow, I didn't.

“PANACEA!” I screamed, so loudly that even the sea-birds momentarily ceased calling. The two teenage girls looked around as I stumbled toward them. With every step, I found more strength, until I was running across the grass that bordered the Boardwalk proper. “Please, you've got to help me! You've got to save my father!”

“What the hell?” It was Glory Girl, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Victoria Dallon, my brain threw up randomly. She stepped forward; Panacea, similarly garbed but with a jacket as well, peered at me past her shoulder. “Seriously, we're off duty here. And Ames doesn't do personal requests. Have your father see a …” She stopped talking, staring. “Fuck me, that's Victor.”

“Yes, I know, he's not here to fight you, he drove me here, my father's dying, you've got to help me, please!” I knew that I was babbling, but I could barely restrain myself from grabbing Panacea by the wrist and dragging her to Peter's truck.

“Victor … you came in a car with Victor.” Glory Girl eyed me askance. “You're Empire Eighty-Eight.”

A friend of the Empire, sure, I thought frantically, but I didn't want to waste the seconds explaining the difference between that and actual membership. “Look, does it matter? My Dad, my boyfriend and my best friend were shot by the ABB! Othala's trying to keep them alive, but she can only help one person regenerate at a time! Please! I'm begging you here!”

Panacea glanced at Glory Girl. “Vicky, maybe I'd better …”

“Wait.” Glory Girl frowned. “Your father? What's his name?”

“Danny Hebert!” I blurted. “He's the head of hiring for the Dock Workers! Come on!” I was in tears by this point. Why couldn't they just stop talking and do the right thing?

“And you're Taylor Hebert. The new big Empire name in Winslow. Makes sense.” Glory Girl had her arms folded by now. “So the ABB was just retaliating for what you had the Empire guys do over the last few days, huh?”

“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about. “No! They just came out of nowhere and started chasing us! They shot Dad and Peter and Jenna! Lung and Oni Lee were gonna kill us! Please, they were bleeding pretty badly! Come on!” I grabbed Panacea's jacket sleeve and yanked on it. She stumbled a couple of steps toward me, then stopped as Glory Girl's hand closed over my wrist. Despite her slender build, I couldn't move my arm, no matter how hard I pulled.

“No.” Her voice was calm. “I don't think so. It's time you Empire jerks learned what it's like for the rest of us. You started this shit with the ABB. You can live with the consequences.” Her fingers, feeling like iron bars, closed on my wrist a little more tightly, forcing me to release her sister. She leaned closer to me, her tone hard and cold. “Besides, Amy's a superhero. She heals for free. That means she can say no any any time and walk away. And she's saying no, right now.”

Working to calm myself down. I tried unsuccessfully to free my arm again. “I don't hear her saying anything. All I hear is you saying what she's going to do.” I stared challengingly at Glory Girl, then glanced at her sister.

Panacea looked back at me, uncertainty on her face. “Uh …”

The shot was startlingly loud, shocking the sea-birds into the air. All three of us turned and looked. Victor stood by Peter's truck, a pistol in his hand, pointing into the air. Smoke wafted from the muzzle. But that wasn't what made Glory Girl swear under her breath. There had been eight men and women with Victor and Othala; they had spread out, each grabbing a passer-by and menacing them with a gun or knife.

“Panacea,” he called. “Tell your sister to let Taylor go, then come and perform your healing. While you've been withholding it, one of our wounded has died. There are two more. Unless you come here right now, there will be more dead people. You have twenty seconds to do as you're asked, or there will be blood.”

My mind went blank. Someone died? Who died? I wanted to rage at Glory Girl. If Panacea had gone there straight away, maybe they could've been saved. Dimly, I became aware that my wrist had been released, but there was a low-voiced argument going on beside me.

“Fifteen seconds,” Victor called, a hard edge to his voice. “Heal these people and nobody will be harmed. You have my word. Ten seconds.”

“ … could be a kidnap!” That was Glory Girl's voice, low and intense.

“People are filming us! If I let these people die …” Panacea's voice trailed off.

“Five seconds! Four! Three!”

On 'two', Panacea pulled free of her sister's grasp. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” she called. She hurried over the expanse of grass toward Peter's truck. Glory Girl rose into the air and followed; I stumbled along behind.

Victor waved Panacea toward one of the side doors of the truck; she climbed inside. I heard Othala's voice, but I couldn't make out what either of them was saying. I could, however, hear what Glory Girl was saying to Victor.

“You're the skill guy, right? Well, you do know that if I wanted to, skill or otherwise, I could punch your head into next week, right?” I felt a wave of fear pass through me; my knees wobbled, and I thought that I might fall over.

“I'm aware.” Even from where I was, I could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead, though he didn't step back from her. The fear intensified. He stood his ground.

I let my powers roll over me once more. The fear vanished, along with all other emotion. Logic reigned supreme.

Vehicles in vicinity: forty-one. Firearms in vicinity: twelve.

I walked forward until I was standing alongside Victor. “Who died?”

Both Glory Girl and Victor looked at me, but he was the one who spoke. “Jenna Parsons. I'm sorry, kid.”

Ally 'Jenna' deceased. Sub-optimal.

I looked at Glory Girl. “Your delay may have led to her death. Why did you do that?”

“Because Ames and me were off duty, and we don't jump when Empire Eighty-Eight says jump! Even if you are queen bitch of Winslow!”

Expression: contorted. Voice: raised. Conclusion: anger.

“You are mistaken on two counts. I asked politely. And I am not 'queen bitch' of Winslow.”

She began to say something, then stopped herself. At that moment, Panacea climbed out of Peter's truck. “I'm done.”

I dropped my powers, turning to her. The grief at my knowledge of Jenna's death hit me hard, but I had to ask. “How are they?”

She gave me a hard glance. “Stable. Your boyfriend had a bullet wound, a broken nose and a depressed fracture of the cheekbone. Your father had a bullet wound, multiple broken bones and serious spinal injuries, as well as internal damage. Plus a depressed skull fracture and brain damage. I healed it all except the brain damage.”

“What?” The word burst out of me. “No! Get back there and heal the brain damage!”

“I don't do brains.” Her words were almost tired, like she had said them many times before.

I stepped up and leaned down until I was eye to eye with her. “Fucking start.” I wasn't very good at fist-fighting, but I was willing to see if she could heal her own broken nose. Glory Girl or no fucking Glory Girl.

“Taylor.” It was Othala's voice, as she wearily climbed from the truck. “She really can't affect brains. We looked into it once. She's never healed a brain injury, ever.”

“Oh.” I stepped back slightly, straightened up. “I never asked before. Can you …”

“Heal a brain injury of that type?” Othala shrugged. “My regeneration doesn't work very fast for really complicated things. The human brain is really complicated. The best I can say is that it might work, and it couldn't hurt. But I can try.”

“Good.” I hadn't taken my eyes off of Panacea. “And Peter?”

“Oh, he'll definitely recover. Soon, I think.”

Finally, I turned away from the New Wave girl. A shuddering sigh let some of the tension out of my shoulders. “Fine. Okay. We're done here.” I considered thanking Panacea, but I was pretty sure that she'd throw it in my face.

Besides, things were far from fine or okay. Jenna was dead, Dad had brain damage. But Peter was alive, and that counted for a lot. One and a half out of three is kind of a win, isn't it?

“I agree.” Victor snapped his fingers twice; his minions released their hostages and stepped back. “Very sorry for the inconvenience. We'll be on our way now.”

“The. Hell. You. Will.”

I felt the wave of fear before I heard the words. Turning, I saw Glory Girl. She hung there in midair, fists clenched at her sides.

My grief at Jenna's death and at Dad's injuries morphed into rage, overriding the fear I felt in her presence. “What the hell?” I screamed it at her. “We let the fucking hostages go! Nobody got hurt! We're fucking leaving! That's what you want, isn't it?”

“You committed a crime right in fucking front of me!” Glory Girl retorted hotly. “In case you didn't know, hostage-taking is actually a crime, even if nobody got hurt!”

“Victor only did that because you were being a fucking bitch about healing people! After you let my best friend die because you wouldn't get off your fucking high horse!” I wanted to punch her in the face. Really badly. Intellectually, I knew that I'd only break my knuckles, but it was still a nice thought.

“I'm not to blame for what the ABB did,” she snapped. “They killed her, not me. Now, you're all under arrest. You're gonna wait right here until the PRT and the BBPD get here. If you try to escape, I'm just gonna have to break some bones. Which Ames is most definitely not gonna be healing. You get me?”

Victor stepped away from Othala and walked toward Glory Girl. “Miss Dallon,” he said sadly, “I wish to apologise.”

Glory Girl's brow creased in confusion. “You think an apology is gonna fix this?”

“Not exactly.” Victor sighed. “You see, I wasn't talking to you.”

He drew his pistol. Panacea had moved away from Peter's truck during the shouting match I'd had with her sister; she stood about twenty feet away by now. Victor shot her in the leg; she screamed and fell over, blood staining the grass.

“You motherfucker!” The intensity of Glory Girl's shriek, as much as the wave of solid fear that followed it, knocked me to the ground. She hit Victor at chest level, grabbing him by the costume and dragging him skyward. When they were about fifty feet up, she tossed him into the air and punched him straight down; I felt the impact of her fist from where I was. He smashed into the ground like a meteorite. She hovered over him for a moment, but he just lay there, unmoving.

Swooping down, she scooped up her sister and flew off; in seconds, she was out of sight. Shaken, I climbed to my feet. The minions were also just getting up; two of them had thrown up. Stumbling over to Othala, I helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?” I asked her. Then I remembered what had just happened. “Oh, god. Victor.”

We turned, to see him getting to his feet. Looking down at the indentation in the ground, he pulled a wry grin. “It looks like I leave an impression wherever I go.”

I gaped. “But how …?” And then I understood. “Invincibility, right?”

“Give the lady a prize.” Victor limped over to us.

“I can't believe you shot Panacea.” I was still slightly in shock at the rapid-fire sequence of events. “Is she gonna be all right?”

“Calf muscle, no large veins or arteries. Easily bandaged. She'll need crutches or a wheelchair for a few weeks.” Victor winced. “She'll get off more lightly than I would have, with what Glory Girl tried to do to me. I think she strained the invincibility, though. Or maybe I just landed wrong.” He turned toward Othala. “I might need a massage tonight, love.”

“You'll get it, dear.” She kissed him tenderly. “But for now, I think we're going to have to leave before anyone else shows up.”

I didn't argue, though I did glance over at the bloody patch on the grass. We faked out Glory Girl this time. What happens when we meet her next?

That, I decided, we would have to find out. As Victor started the car, I slipped into the embrace of my powers once more.

Assume positive control: Peter's truck.



End of Part Ten

Part Eleven

 

The Slippery Slope

Part Eleven: Reports and Conclusions


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


Once we were away from the Boardwalk, Victor clipped his cell-phone into a socket on the dashboard. While I was ready to take over steering the car if his attention wandered, my precautions were not necessary.

Conclusion: Ally 'Victor' is skilled at this.

“Call: Kaiser,” he ordered.

“Calling Kaiser,” the phone responded in a computer-generated voice.

The convoy kept moving, through the dark streets of Brockton Bay. Victor seemed to be guiding us into the less-travelled back streets.

“Kaiser here. Situation?”

Voice is familiar. Conclusion: Kaiser has been encountered before.

“Young Ferguson will recover fully. Mr Hebert has suffered a brain injury and is in a coma. Miss Parsons died before Panacea reached her. The encounter did not go well. We are all safe and away from there. I have Taylor with me at the moment.”

Kaiser's voice sharpened. “Define 'did not go well'.”

“Glory Girl would not permit Panacea to heal our people. I was forced to take hostages. Once the healing was done and they were released, Glory Girl stated her intention to hold us under arrest. When argument failed to move her, I shot Panacea in the leg. Glory Girl tried to kill me, then flew Panacea away, presumably to the hospital.”

There was a long silence. “New Wave will be livid.”

“I'm aware of that, sir. I didn't see any other choice.”

“You're sure that Panacea will not suffer lasting injury?”

“I put the round through the outer part of the gastrocnemius muscle, missing the bone. She'll be on crutches for a while. At worst, a wheelchair.”

“I see. You do realise that Glory Girl in particular will be after your blood, once she realises that you're still alive.”

“I understand that too, sir. I'll keep my head down. In the meantime, we have need of an Angel of Mercy and a Hide and Seek. Location six.”

“Consider it done. Also, do you have numbers for me?”

Victor did not hesitate. “Five and five, sir.”

“You're certain about this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Understood. When you get back, I want to see you immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The phone call ended. I had not heard anything of note to me, so I said nothing.

We rolled on through the night.

<><>

We were moving through an area of run-down warehouses when my powers noted something unusual. “Victor.”

“Yes?”

Ahead of us, parked at the side of the road, was a large delivery van.

Lights off; attempting to avoid notice.

Engine idling.

Machinery in rear bay; some unusual, some unidentifiable.

Three pistols, presumably carried by people. Two in back, one in front.

Conclusion: suspicious.

“That vehicle. The engine is running and there are three armed people in it.” Assuming positive control of the delivery van, I locked the doors. “They are now locked in.”

Expression: smile. Conclusion: amused?

“Well done, Taylor, but they're with us. You can let them out now.” He chuckled, then muttered, “Boy, are their faces gonna be red.”

Conclusion reinforced: ally 'Victor' amused.

As we came level with the delivery van, I noticed something else, parked farther up the road. It was another vehicle, this one appearing to be a transport truck of some sort.

Engine idling.

No detectable machinery in rear bay. Rear door is a ramp, hydraulically activated.

Two pistols, presumably carried. Two in front.

Vehicle has ramp.

“Victor. That vehicle there is also with us?”

He looked toward the transport truck as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. I parked Peter's truck behind us. “Yes. That one's for Peter's truck. It's a little too obvious, especially with all that damage.”

“And the vehicle behind us?”

Expression: smile. “That's for Peter and your dad.”

He opened his door and got out. I did the same. Two of the men from the rear vehicle approached us, pushing wheeled stretchers. I noted that the front vehicle had began to lower its ramp; once I was out of the car, the whine of the hydraulic pistons was quite audible.

Victor nodded to the two men from the van. One of them said, “Casualties?”

The side door to Peter's truck opened, and Victor helped Othala out. “Yeah,” he said. “Teenage boy and mid-forties male. Most of their problems have been dealt with, but we need to make sure they get to the clinic alive.”

“We can definitely do that,” one of the men said. “Who's she?”

Victor turned to look at him. “Not your concern.”

The man stepped back slightly. “Right, sorry, forget I said anything.”

I watched as the men efficiently loaded Peter and my father on to the stretchers. As they wheeled them toward the rear vehicle, Victor tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned to him. “What?”

He indicated Peter's truck. “Can you drive that up into the truck?”

“Yes.”

Assume positive control: Peter's truck.

The doors of Peter's truck closed with a muted clunk, then I manoeuvred the damaged vehicle around Victor's car and up the ramp. Once it was inside, I locked the parking brake and dropped my power.

“Damn, nicely done,” Victor commented. “Doubt I could've done better.” He gestured to the car. “Well, let's go. The boss is gonna want to talk to you once he's done ripping me a new asshole.”

I stared at him. “What for? Taking hostages or shooting Panacea?”

“Well, both,” he admitted. “Neither one really showed the Empire in a good light.”

“But Glory Girl was being a bitch about it, and Dad and Peter were going to die,” I protested.

“Still doesn't excuse shooting Panacea,” he pointed out, sounding more than a little amused.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I wish it hadn't happened too, but if she'd just let Panacea heal Dad, we wouldn't have broken the damn law in the first place.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “Well said. I just hope Kaiser sees it your way. Otherwise, my life's gonna suck for a while.”

“I'm sorry for putting you into that position,” I said, then started moving toward the fake delivery van.

“Where are you going?” he asked. “Car's this way.”

“I'm riding with Dad and Peter,” I said over my shoulder.

“But they're just -”

I looked at the van, as it pulled away from the curb. Drawing on my power was almost second nature by now. Still walking, I waited for the few moments it took for the van to come level with me.

Assume positive control of vehicle. Apply brakes.

The van's brakes squealed slightly as it stopped. Without breaking stride, I walked around to the back of the van.

Doors locked. Unlock doors. Open doors.

As the double doors at the back of the van swung open, I climbed in. The two men tending to Peter and my father turned toward me. One opened his mouth but did not speak.

“What are you -” began the other one, then stopped.

Query regarding intentions.

“I am riding with Peter and my father.” Behind me, the doors shut and locked once more. There was a pull-down seat at the side of the vehicle. It snapped open; I sat down on it and fastened the safety belt.

Release brakes. I did not look at the men. “Drive.”

As the vehicle moved off, I let my powers drop away once more. Leaning over, trying to make sure that I didn't get in their way, I took Dad's hand. Normally, with this sort of thing, I would've asked permission. But from the way that Victor had been acting, I suspected that I was now a lot more important to the Empire than I had been that morning.

I was done with asking permission.

<><>

Amy looked up when Vicky stomped into the hospital room. “Excuse me,” she said to the female police officer who was standing at her bedside. “Glory Girl, I'm just giving a statement. They'll want one off you too.”

“Fine,” grumped Vicky, dragging a chair off to the side of the room. She turned it around and sat down with her arms crossed over the back, chin resting on her arms. Her expression could have curdled milk in Boston. Amy winced; she hadn't seen Vicky this pissed in years.

For her part, it was kind of odd to be in this situation, and somewhat of a wake-up call. Every time she moved, she felt the tug of IVs in her arms, not to mention the sticky patches that supplied data to the machines at her bedside. She was used to being on the other side of the situation, the person standing by the bed, able to walk out the door at any time.

Being in the bed, with a bandage on her leg, brought home to her a very real fact: I can get hurt. It was simultaneously a rather frightening and humbling thought. While she had been intellectually aware that this could happen – stubbed toes happen to everyone, after all – nobody had ever deliberately targeted her in a super-battle before.

If this even counted as a super-battle. I was shot. With a gun. As a distraction. To be honest, as someone who considered herself a serious superhero, it was a little insulting.

Clearing her throat, she turned back to the officer. “Where were we?” she asked politely.

The woman asked the routine questions, and she answered them as best she could.

“No, I've never met her before, but I've heard her name.”

“In connection with the Empire Eighty-Eight at her school, to be honest.”

“No, I don't attend her school, but I know someone who does.”

“I'm sorry, that's a secret identity issue. I can't answer that.”

“No, she did not try to stop Victor from shooting me.”

“Yes, I would definitely be able to identify her in a lineup.”

“Yes, I would be willing to testify against them in court.”

The questions eventually petered out; she looked around and realised that the rest of New Wave had made an appearance while she was distracted. Mark was the first to her bedside, followed by Crystal. Amy shared a smile with her cousin; they had always gotten along fairly well.

Flashbang took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. Oh, good. He's taken his meds.

“Amy girl. How are you feeling?” he asked

“Like I got shot,” she replied with a wry grin, squeezing back. “Not an experience I recommend to anyone. Except maybe the Empire Eighty-Eight. I recommend they get shot as often as possible.”

Crystal managed to giggle and look horrified all at the same time. “Amy!” she exclaimed. “That's terrible!”

Amy rolled her eyes at Crystal. “Tell you what. You get shot sometime, and tell me if you're fine with it. News flash. You won't be.”

“So, how bad was it?” butted in Eric. He wasn't as irritating as she had known Clockblocker to be on occasion, but being both a teenager and the youngest member of New Wave, sometimes it seemed as though Eric was trying to live up to a certain image. Such as his habit of dyeing his hair blue. “They gonna cut your leg off? We'll get Armsmaster to make you a prosthetic. With a pop-out halberd.”

“You're a pop-out halberd,” Crystal retorted. Roughly half a second later, her expression changed as she obviously regretted her words, but it was too late.

Eric grinned and waggled his eyebrows, also bright blue. “So I've been told.”

Amy shook her head, smiling despite herself at the silly banter. “They're not going to amputate, you doofus. The bullet went straight through. It missed the bone, and anything else that was important. They're just keeping me in here overnight for observation.”

“So are you at least gonna have a wicked scar?” he pressed. “A battle wound. In years to come, you can point at it and say, Victor shot me there. And people will say, who?”

“Come on, kids, give Amy some space.” That was Lady Photon with Manpower flanking her, her tone tolerant but firm. She stepped up to Amy's bedside and captured her other hand.

Slightly concerned. Probably over me. Pleased that I'm okay.

“I'm fine, Aunt Sarah,” Amy insisted. “I'll be home tomorrow, and back at school in a week. It's not a huge deal.” She looked over to where Vicky was giving her statement to the police officer; this seemed to involve a great deal of hand waving. “Well, to some people anyway.” Looked around, she frowned. “Where's Carol?”

Mark's face fell slightly. His touch communicated a certain amount of embarrassment. “She's talking to the police about what happened. Then she'll be heading back to the office. There's a big case she's working on.”

Mostly true, but she could've come in and said hi anyway. “Oh.” Conflicting emotions warred within Amy; she would at least have appreciated some sympathy from Carol for her injury, but she wasn't so sure that the woman wouldn't find some way to blame it on her.

It's probably for the best.

But she could have at least given Mark a message to pass on!

She slumped a little. I'd say this was par for the course, but it's pretty shitty, even for her.

“Amy?”

She blinked, turning her attention outward again. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

Sarah smiled indulgently, brushing Amy's hair back from her forehead. “I was just asking why you even got shot. What happened? I'm afraid Victoria's phone call was somewhat brief.”

“And why's she so unhappy?” asked Neil, over his wife's shoulder. “I mean, I know she's upset over you being shot, but this is a whole new level.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Well to answer the second question first, as soon as she got me here, she took off like a bat out of hell to get those Empire guys and kick their asses up between their shoulder-blades. I'm guessing she didn't find them.”

“And the first question?” That was her aunt.

Amy grimaced. “Um … well, the Empire wanted me to heal a couple of their guys. They were pretty badly hurt. There was a girl there, who died before I could get to her.”

Victor's voice came back to her. While you've been withholding it, one of our wounded has died.

“So what happened?” Neil's voice was a soft rumble.

She took a deep breath. “Well, um, that girl, I think her name's Taylor, more or less demanded that I heal them. Her father and her boyfriend and her best friend, she said.”

“Demanded?” Sarah sounded disapproving. “A bit arrogant, was she?”

Amy closed her eyes for a moment, seeing the pleading eyes in front of her once more. “Well, um, begged would be more like it. She was kind of distraught. When Vicky said no -”

Neil frowned. “Why did she do that? She's usually all about how you can heal people.”

“Yeah, but then we realised who Taylor was. Some sort of big noise in the Empire junior league.” Amy opened her eyes. “We could see Victor and the Empire guys and everything. She said the ABB just attacked them out of the blue, but that's not exactly a likely scenario, right? I figure they'd just come from a firefight against the ABB, spotted me, and decided to score some free healing. Which was basically why Vicky said no.”

“Then what happened?” That was Sarah.

“We looked around and Victor had told his men to take hostages. Gave me twenty seconds to start healing or people were going to start dying.” Amy heard the bitterness in her own voice. “I don't mind healing people in the hospital. I mean, that's what I'm there for. But being forced to do it?” She sighed. “Anyway, by then people were filming. Seriously, only in Brockton Bay. A hostage situation, and people are filming. So I did it. Healed the major stuff, left the minor stuff for Othala to do her regeneration thing on.”

“And then Victor shot you?” Neil frowned. “That sounds counter-productive.”

“Well, not at first, no,” Amy admitted. “They were just going to go. They released all the hostages and everything. But then Vicky decided to arrest them. Taylor argued with her for a bit, then Victor shot me.”

“Just like that?” Sarah's hand squeezed Amy's slightly. Her other hand, resting on the bed, was squeezed into a fist, with a glow dancing around it. “I think I might go and find him and see how he likes it.”

“Well, um, he kind of said sorry first? And Vicky really wasn't going to let them go?” Amy hated sounding so unsure of herself, but it sounded like she was undermining Vicky's decision when she wasn't, not really.

“But shooting you.” Neil's voice had gone from a rumble to a growl. “You're a non-combatant. He had no business attacking you. You could have died -”

“No.” Amy's voice cut him off. “I've had time to think about it. Victor's really, really good at shooting, right? He's really good at everything. He couldn't shoot Vicky. He had to know that Vicky would drop everything to protect me. So he shot me in the meat of the calf. I've fixed injuries like that. It bleeds, sure, but any sort of pressure on the wound will stop the bleeding. There's nowhere else he could've hit me that had less chance of being life-threatening or impairing me long-term, while still looking dangerous.”

“Amy girl.” It was Mark, looking confused. “Are you … defending him?”

She shook her head definitively. “No. Hell, no. I'm not any less pissed at him. And I could've gone the rest of my life without finding out what it's like to be shot, thanks heaps. But really, he was just trying to decoy Vicky away without hurting me too badly, and he succeeded.”

“Right,” noted Neil. “So I only break one arm, not both of them. Got it.”

“Wait.” Amy looked at Sarah; she had an expression on her face suggesting that she'd just bitten into something sour. “So, if you'd been there and Victoria hadn't, you would have still healed them?”

“Um, yes?” Amy wasn't sure where this was going. “They were threatening civilians -”

Sarah cut her off. “That's not what I was concerned about.” She glanced across the room. Amy followed her gaze, to where Vicky was still giving her statement. “After you did the healing, did they threaten you in any way?”

“Apart from shooting me in the leg, you mean?” Amy tried to make a joke of it, but Sarah's lowering eyebrows told her that it had fallen flat. “Um, no. As far as I could tell, they just wanted to go.”

“And nobody else was hurt?” Sarah's gaze was intent.

“A bit shaken, I guess. Why?” But Amy thought she knew what was coming next.

“So if Victoria hadn't been there, Victor would not have found it necessary to shoot you.”

As braced as she thought she was, it still hit her like a hammer blow. “Wait, you're saying it's Vicky's fault I was shot? That's -”

“No.” Sarah's voice was flat. “That's not what I'm saying. Victor chose to shoot you. Nobody forced him to do that. But it was a precarious situation, and Victoria should really have waited until you were under cover before pushing the issue.” She raised her eyes to look at Flashbang. “Mark?”

Amy looked at him. He hesitated, then nodded. “ … yeah. She's kind of impetuous like that. I'll talk to Carol, and we'll both talk to her. Things could've gone a lot worse.”

“And make sure you tell Mom that Victor really wasn't trying to murder me,” Amy interjected. “I know it sounds really weird saying this, and I won't mind at all if Uncle Neil does break Victor's arm, but I'm pretty sure he was trying for the least bad of some really shitty options.”

“Of which shooting you should not have been on the list at all,” growled Neil. He cracked his knuckles, evoking a sound not unlike distant gunfire. “And when I do get my hands on him, I'll be sure to explain that. With illustrations.”

“As for achieving that,” Mark said, “how do we handle this? Do we go after just Victor, or the whole Empire?”

Sarah looked thoughtful. “Taking down the whole Empire at one fell swoop is not something I'm optimistic about. Even if we got the Protectorate as backup. Which is very unlikely to happen.”

“What?” Neil didn't sound happy. “Why not? Amy's healed about every one of them at one time or another. Except that Aegis kid. But he cheats.”

Sarah's voice was patient. “Because even with the Protectorate, the Empire outnumbers us.”

“If you include the Wards -” began Neil.

“I am not going to advocate sending kids up against Hookwolf, or Cricket, or Night, or Fog.” Sarah's voice was low, but her tone was steel-hard. “If I were Kaiser, I'd do one of two things. Either I'd hand over Victor as soon as possible to keep the peace. Tonight, even.”

“Or?” prompted Mark.

“Or I'd hide him away inside the Empire somewhere. Ignore the fact that this ever happened. Stress that Victoria pushed it as far as it went, if anyone brings it up.”

“And in the meantime, Victor gets away with this.” Neil sounded even less happy about this.

“I don't know any capes in the Empire who haven't hurt or killed someone,” Sarah pointed out. “There's more than one murderer in that bunch. But we can't do anything about them, yet. They're just too strong. On the upside, I doubt that it was anything personal against Amy, so we shouldn't have to worry about a follow-up attack.”

“That doesn't fill me with joy,” Mark said. “One of us should stay with Amy at all times until she gets out. Just to make sure that nobody else does anything stupid.”

Nobody argued with that.

<><>

I was still holding Dad's hand, looking into his face for some sign of awakening, when the ad hoc ambulance came to a halt and the engine died. The guy who'd been tending to Dad looked over at me. “We're there, uh, miss,” he said awkwardly. “I hope your dad gets better.”

“Me too,” I told him. “And thanks.”

The rear doors opened; I climbed out first so as to get out of their way. Looking around, I saw I was in a covered drive-through area, like they have in hospitals for ambulances. Almost immediately, I saw Peter's father, as well as several other adults who had been at the Augustus Country Club. This included, not very much to my surprise, Max Anders.

Looking around, I didn't see Victor or Othala, or the car they had been travelling in. I supposed that they would meet us inside the building. I moved to meet them, suddenly hyper-aware that I was bruised, dishevelled and dirty, with dried blood crusted on me here and there.

“Taylor,” Mr Ferguson said, worry and relief mixing in his voice. “We heard that Peter was hurt. How is he?”

I took a deep breath, then felt the tears beginning to threaten. I knew I had to keep it short, or I'd break down crying. “He'll be fine. Othala said so.” Thinking of Peter reminded me of Dad, and Jenna, and Bronson, and I felt my lip start to quiver. “I – they – I'm sorry – I -”

“Hey.” His arms went around me, and he held me gently. “You did your best, baby girl. You saved his life.” Lowering his voice, he murmured, “Is it true that you blew Lung's arm off?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded, biting my lip.

“Taylor, a moment, if you will? Excuse me, please, Ed.” It was Max Anders. His voice was smooth and firm; after a final squeeze, Mr Ferguson let me go and stepped back. Mr Anders took my arm and gently moved me aside.

“I'm sorry, Mr Anders,” I choked out. “Bronson – Jenna -”

“Did their duty and they'll be recognised for it,” he assured me. “We've retrieved Bronson's body. I understand that your father is badly hurt?”

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “P-Panacea couldn't fix -”

“I know.” He spoke softly, but with reassurance. Tilting my chin up with one finger, he looked me in the eye. “I promise you, he will get the best treatment that I can afford.”

Tears filled my eyes; I couldn't speak at all. Mr Anders somehow understood this; in the next moment, I felt him put his arms around me, just as Mr Ferguson had done. He wasn't Dad, or even Peter, but I needed as many hugs as I could get right then. Clinging to him, I felt the floodgates burst, as the tears came.

<><>

Lung towered over me, standing taller than the nearby buildings. Silvery scales covered his draconic body, glinting in the flames that wreathed their way around him.

“Look out, Taylor!” shouted Peter, pushing me out of the way. I sprawled to the ground, looking up in horror as a massive hand, fingers tipped with yard-long talons, scooped him up like a child's toy.

“Peter!” I shouted. “No!”

“Yes,” roared Lung. He flexed his hand; I saw blood well around the wounds as his claws pierced the body of the boy I loved. Bringing his other monstrous hand up, he dug those into Peter as well, then flexed his metal-clad muscles. My scream echoed Peter's, as Lung slowly and agonisingly tore him apart.

I woke up with the echo of my voice in my ears, the nightmare still playing behind my eyelids. It took me a long moment to realise that was all it was. An extremely vivid nightmare, one that had left me sweating amidst bunched-up sheets, but a nightmare all the same.

I sat up; my eyes were aching, my sinuses felt clogged, and I didn't know where I was. My blurry vision picked out what looked like a box of tissues on the nightstand – this isn't my nightstand. It's not even my bed – and I grabbed one, then blew my nose.

That helped a lot. Locating my glasses, I put them on. Then I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and stood up, only to promptly sit down again as the door to the bedroom burst open. Othala stood there, currently wearing a long blue dressing-gown, with a teenage girl peering past her at me. The girl had blonde hair and wore flannel pyjamas with teddy-bears all over them; this tiny cutesy detail went a long way toward reassuring me.

“We heard you calling out,” Othala told me; belatedly, I realised that my throat was a little sore.

“Most of the building heard you calling out,” the girl interjected with a snort.

Othala sighed. “Tammi, that was insensitive. Taylor, I'd like you to meet Tammi.”

Tammi winced slightly. “Sorry, Taylor. Didn't meant to hurt your feelings. I hear you owned Lung and Oni Lee like a boss last night.”

“Tammi!” Othala glared at the girl. “If you can't control your mouth, I suggest you keep it shut.”

I barely heard her words. Leaning forward, I raked my hands through my hair until my forehead was braced against the heels of my hands. “They're not going to stop, are they?”

I felt the mattress beside me compress as Othala sat down. A comforting arm wrapped around my shoulders and Othala pulled me into a warm hug. “I'm afraid not, honey. But we are going to be holding a meeting after breakfast, to discuss the situation. Would you like to attend?”

I blinked, barely grasping that I was important enough to both be granted a place at the big kids' table and to be asked if I wanted to show up instead of being told to be there. “I, uh, yes.” Memories slotted into place. “How's Dad? And Peter?”

Tammi grinned. “Pete's awake. Right now, he's inhaling enough breakfast for three.” She shut her mouth, obviously unwilling to say more.

Othala opened her mouth to take over, but I could already see where this was going. “He hasn't woken up, has he?”

“No.” Othala shook her head. “I'm currently using my power on him, since Peter woke up this morning.” I noticed, this close, that she had fatigue lines around her eyes.

“Thank you … I … thank you.” I hugged her back. “You look tired. Is that on my account?”

With a smile, she shook her head. “Not really. I was up very late last night. Another matter.”

“Oh.” I felt somewhat relieved. “Well, I really don't know what I'd do without you guys.”

“Be a lot less cool?” That was Tammi; I could hear the grin in her voice. I didn't see the funny side of it.

“I was never cool.” I leaned away from Othala so I could get a better look at her. With the thoughts that were still running through my head, I needed the distraction. Given that they were both unmasked, I found their features oddly familiar. “Weren't you both at the Augustus Country Club in January?”

Tammi smirked. “Yup. I was hanging with Melissa while you were keeping an eye on Helen. I heard about that thing with Julie.”

I looked at Othala. “And you're the one who fixed up my face, after.” It wasn't quite a question.

She smiled warmly. “I wondered at the time if you'd figured it out.”

“Well, I couldn't quite be sure,” I said. “And I didn't have my glasses on, so I never got a good look at you. But even if I'd been sure, who would I have told? Everyone there probably knew you anyway.”

“Not everyone,” she said self-deprecatingly. “But yes, most of the people there knew who I was.”

“Talking about knowing who you are,” I ventured, “should you be unmasked in front of me?”

“Well, don't tell anyone that I told you this,” Othala confided, “but Kaiser will be personally inviting you to join the Empire at the meeting. And if you choose to accept, we all unmask to you anyway.”

I thought about that for a moment. “And if I don't? What happens then?”

Othala looked at me oddly, and I felt the need to explain myself further. “I'm not saying I won't. I'm just wondering what the other options are.”

She shrugged lightly. “No-one's forcing you to do anything. If you want to remain a Friend of the Empire, then you can.” She winked. “I just hope for my sake that you can keep my secret.”

“Oh. Okay.” That sounded reasonable to me. In fact, it sounded more than reasonable. Except … “Wait. The meeting's gonna be just capes?”

“All the current roster of Empire capes, yes.” Othala looked at me. “Is that a problem?”

I tried not to hyperventilate. “Wow. No. Not really.” I didn't really succeed. “It's just that … well, you and Victor are the only capes I've met, you know, in costume. Meeting the rest of them … they're some pretty big names. Are they even going to accept me?”

Tammi began to laugh. I felt a little hurt. Othala, I could see, was having a hard time not following suit, but she controlled herself. “Oh, honey. You beat up Lung and Oni Lee single-handed. That makes you a big name, too.”

“Oh. Right.” I looked at Tammi; she was laughing so hard that she had to sit down on the floor. “Got it.” I looked down at my hands. It makes me a big target, too.

Lucky me.

<><>

Having showered and dressed in clothes borrowed from Tammi, I was feeling somewhat more human when I entered the small dining room. Peter and his father were sitting side by side at the table. My boyfriend looked around and saw me, and I saw his face light up like a beacon. “Taylor!” I jumped at the crash as his chair went over backward, and then he was right in front of me. A moment later, I had my arms wrapped tightly around him. I never wanted to let him go again. For a moment, he hesitated, then his arms went around me and he spun me in a circle.

“Peter,” I said softly. “You're all right. You're really all right.” Burying my face in his shoulder, I inhaled deeply, savouring his scent.

“So are you,” he said. “Better than all right. You saved my life. You saved your father's life.” I could hear the frown in his voice. “You chased off Oni Lee and blew Lung's arm off?” I got the idea that he was dying to ask for the details, but didn't know how to.

I pulled back a little and looked at him. “I'm a cape!”

“I know, sweetheart. I'd just love to know how you did it.” He leaned in to kiss me, then hesitated for a second.

I frowned. “Peter, why don't you want to kiss me? Is it because I didn't save Jenna?”

“What? No.” He pulled back very slightly, so he could look at my face. “Taylor, I know you did everything you could. I know this, because I know you. You saved me, and you saved your father. Yes, Jenna died, but it wasn't your fault.”

I leaned into him again, absorbing the warmth of his body. “Then why?”

His sigh vibrated through his body. “I thought that things might be different now that you're a cape.”

“Different?” I didn't get it. Well, of course things are different.

“Between us.”

He didn't have to elaborate any more. “Oh, jeez. Peter.” I rolled my eyes and pushed back away from him.

“What?” He looked apprehensive, but not for long.

Grabbing him by the head, I pulled him to me and kissed him, hard. We held it until my head started to swim, then I ended it. He looked a little stunned himself. Wow, that was kind of nice. I got a grip on myself. “When things are different between us, Peter Ferguson, I will tell you. Until then, you're my boyfriend and you will kiss me when and if I need it. Got it?”

He grinned, a little goofily. “Ma'am, yes, ma'am.”

“Good.” I smiled at him. “Now, could you please find me some breakfast? I'm kind of starved.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He gave me some kind of half-assed salute then turned and headed toward what looked like a food counter.

I pulled out a chair and sat down. Looking over at Mr Ferguson, I found that he was watching me with a speculative eye. Recalling abruptly that I had just kissed his son in front of him, I flushed a little and cleared my throat. “I, uh, good morning, Mr Ferguson.”

“Good morning, Taylor,” he replied blandly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was when I woke up,” I said honestly. “I'm glad Peter's okay.”

“So am I,” he said. His smile matched the warmth in his tone. “Thank you for that.”

“I, um …” I paused, not sure how to lead into this. “You're not mad that I just …”

He chuckled. “Baby girl, when I first met you, I decided that Peter had chosen well. Last night proved that he chose extremely well. And quite apart from that, you're a cape. There are those in the Empire who can tell you what to do and not do. I'm not one of them.”

“Oh. Wow.” This was going to take some serious getting used to, I decided. When an adult like Peter's father, someone I seriously respected, deferred to me … Wow. Just wow.

Peter, laden down with breakfast foodstuffs, returned to the table. “I'm pretty sure you like this stuff. It's kind of what you eat at Winslow, right?”

I looked at it, and found my mouth literally watering. “Oh, yeah. Kind of, except that this is actual food.”

He grinned. “Well, dig in. I've already eaten.”

I didn't wait for a second invitation.

<><>

Emily Piggot eyed her computer screen balefully. Turning from it, she gave Armsmaster the benefit of the same glare. “So, I understand that the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB got quite … frisky, last night.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied. “But -”

“I wasn't finished,” she said, a faintly reproachful tone in her voice. “So, in the first incident, there were approximately one hundred and fifty rounds fired, all from pistols. Strong evidence that Lung and Oni Lee were involved, as well as upward of twenty-four people. Of whom, fifteen ABB members did not survive the experience, and three are still in intensive care. In the second incident, which involved two cars and a four-by-four tearing through Brockton Bay accompanied by a mysterious force that moved cars to the side of the road to let them through. No casualties, thankfully. And the third incident, which involved the same three vehicles, as well as Victor and Othala of the Empire, and Panacea and Glory Girl of New Wave in a hostage situation. Which ended up with Panacea taking a round to the left leg. Have I left anything important out?”

“No, ma'am,” he replied carefully. “You've summed it up quite succinctly.”

She nodded. “Very well. Give me the details. I want to know what happened, why it happened, and if it's likely that this is going to happen again any time soon.”

“The report -” he began, but was cut off by an impatient wave.

“I will read the report in my own time, Armsmaster,” she said. “I can't question a report for extra details. Start from the beginning. What was the firefight on Ronan Street all about? There are no Empire or ABB interests in that area, are there?”

Armsmaster shook his head. “Not that I know of. There were a lot of damaged vehicles in that section of street, some of them listed as stolen. But one was very interesting indeed.”

She tilted her head. “Define 'interesting'.”

His tone was matter-of-fact. “Interesting as in, it had been involved in a high-speed chase, had several bullet-holes in it, as well as a fair amount of blood, and had rolled over several times to land on its roof.”

She blinked. “That fits with 'interesting'. Was it also stolen?”

“No. The registration came back as belonging to a Daniel Hebert.”

“Hebert, Hebert,” she muttered. “Where do I know that name from?”

“Winslow,” he said helpfully. “The Shadow Stalker locker incident. The girl who was put into the locker is called Taylor Hebert. She's his daughter.”

“Ah, right. The Empire Eighty-Eight girl,” she said, recalling at last. “You mentioned blood. Were either of them at the scene when you got there?”

“No.” His lips compressed together. “But the quantity of blood was worrying. If it had come from her, I doubt that she would have survived.”

She nodded, picking up his meaning from context. “It was from him?”

“Given later information, yes.”

“So, the ABB were chasing her and her father, and the Empire got involved? Is there any other evidence of Empire Eighty-Eight involvement, particularly Empire cape involvement?”

“Only circumstantially,” he said. “The third incident definitely involved the Empire, but as for the first, there are no overt signs of any Empire capes.” She detected an air of slight puzzlement from the man. “However, the evidence we have indicates that a cape of some sort was involved. We just don't know who.”

“Great,” she groaned. “A new trigger, in the middle of a gang firefight. And given that the vast majority of casualties are ABB, I'm guessing that it's Empire. As if they needed any more.” She raised her chin. “What are your estimates of the power categories?”

He fell silent then, and she didn't push him. His was not the most agile mind, but once he had his teeth in a problem, he did not let go until he had beaten it.

“Shaker or Blaster,” he ventured at last. “Some sort of small-scale telekinesis, possibly. Eleven of the ABB casualties had wounds consistent with their pistols being fired, repeatedly, while still tucked down their pants.”

Emily grimaced. She had seen the effect of a single shot on a grunt who'd tucked his gun into his pants. Idiot. He'd washed out of basic training and never come back. “Anything else?”

“A wider range effect, capable of pushing vehicles out of the way and disabling engines. The first responders reported that their cars were physically moved to the side and spark-plug leads disconnected, just as three vehicles passed by. They fit the description of the vehicles from the second and third incidents.”

“Hm.” She scribbled a note to herself to look into that. “And what about the ABB capes on scene? Neither Lung nor Oni Lee have a habit of being chased away easily, especially if there aren't any capes to oppose them. And why were they there in the first place?”

“I have no idea why they were there,” confessed the armoured hero. “The injured ABB members that were retrieved from the scene have yet to answer any questions. However, the cars on scene all show signs of repeated front-end impacts with Lung's enlarged form. There's evidence of both heat and claw marks on the vehicles. Several were involved with quite a substantial explosion. And a human arm was found nearby; it was covered in tattoos. Dragon tattoos.”

“So whoever it was blew Lung's arm off …?” Emily shook her head. “How the hell did they do that?”

“We found eight grenade pins all in one spot, quite a distance from the explosion site. The explosion itself was consistent with said grenades all going off at once.”

“Oni Lee,” she said, almost to herself. “But why …?”

“I don't know.” His voice was matter of fact. “But it looks like a serious ambush of ABB forces. Lung was hit by multiple cars, probably driven by Empire guys, then blown up with Oni Lee's own grenades. We don't know what happened to Lee, except that there are several piles of ash in the area, including quite a lot inside one particular car. And no, I don't know how they got hold of his grenades.”

“So, no Empire casualties on site.” She decided to go over the facts that she knew.

“None.”

“And ABB casualties, both dead and alive.”

“Correct. Some injuries consistent with being hit by vehicles, some by gunfire.”

“Have any witnesses come forward to help inquiries?”

He snorted. “In that area? Nobody saw anything. Or heard anything, even when the explosion broke their windows.”

“I see.” It wasn't much of a surprise. “I'm presuming the second incident is similar to what the police reported from the first. Vehicles being shoved aside.”

“Correct.”

“And the third?”

He grimaced. “This is where it gets problematic.”

“Only for the Empire, surely. One of theirs shot Panacea.”

“There was a sequence of events that led up to that,” he said carefully. “Quite a few videos have been posted online, and I've been over the police interviews.”

She groaned internally. I'm not liking the sound of this. “Go ahead.”

“Panacea and Glory Girl, both in civilian attire, were on the Boardwalk. Three vehicles, matching previous descriptions, were driving at high speed down Lord Street. They pulled over and a girl matching the physical description of Taylor Hebert called out to Panacea, then ran over to her. She repeatedly begged and pleaded for Panacea to heal ...” He paused, possibly reading from his helmet HUD. “Her father, her boyfriend and her best friend.”

“That is, Daniel Hebert and two members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, I presume.”

“Correct. Glory Girl intervened and informed Ms Hebert that Panacea was not available for healing duties. Ms Hebert became more agitated and repeated her request.”

Emily frowned. “Did she become threatening or aggressive?”

Armsmaster shook his head. “Witnesses say no. The aggression happened when Victor, who had also exited the vehicle, fired a shot into the air. This alerted Glory Girl and Panacea to the fact that eight of the Empire's people had each taken a hostage. Victor instructed Panacea to perform the requested healing at once, or people would die. He also told her that while she had been withholding her healing, one of the Empire people had died.”

“Christ.” Emily winced. That's not gonna look good online. “So she did it?”

“She healed them, yes,” he said. “Othala was there, attempting to keep them alive. Her statement indicated that a teenage girl was unresponsive to her healing, while a teenage boy and an older male responded well. The boy had taken a bullet to the chest, while the older male had suffered broken bones, a skull fracture, multiple contusions and a bullet wound.”

“I'm guessing the older male was Daniel Hebert.”

He nodded. “He fitted the description closely enough. We don't know the identities of the other two.”

“So …” She paused. “Why was Panacea shot? In retaliation for letting the girl die?”

“It appears not.” He took a breath. “The hostages were released unharmed. Panacea was allowed to leave the vehicle. But then, as the Empire contingent were preparing to leave, Glory Girl attempted to place them under arrest.”

Emily put her hand over her eyes. “Oh, for fuck's sake. That girl is a fucking menace.”

Armsmaster did not comment on her observation. “Ms Hebert tried to talk Glory Girl out of her decision, but did not succeed.”

“So Victor shot Panacea.” Emily grimaced. “Taking a hostage would have been kidnapping, thus complicating the whole situation, while not preventing Glory Girl from shadowing them anyway. Shooting another hostage would have left Panacea free to heal them while Glory Girl attacked the Empire people. Brutal but elegant. It was the only way to get Glory Girl off their backs.”

“Glory Girl did go back after getting Panacea to the hospital, but she could find no trace of those three vehicles,” Armsmaster reported. “Especially the four-by-four with the damaged front end.”

“Of course she didn't,” Emily muttered. “The Empire isn't as stupid as that.”

“So how are we going to respond to this?” Armsmaster didn't have to explain what he meant by 'this'.

Emily compressed her lips together. “Officially, we decry the attack on our most valuable healer. If the hospital hasn't done so already, we pick up all medical expenses.” She paused. “I'll see if San Diego can't loan us Scapegoat to get her back on her feet.” An automatic wince as the accidental pun registered on her.

“It's a good idea.” Armsmaster didn't seem to have noticed.

“We also need to update the warrant on Victor, and make it known that Taylor and Daniel Hebert are wanted for questioning in relation to both incidents. Also, we'll be seeking further confirmation on this new cape.”

She drew a breath and let it go again. It didn't help. “Unofficially, we're not going to do anything stupid, or condone anything stupid, in relation to the Empire. We're not going seek a kill order, or any other punitive action, for Victor. I am going to send a totally deniable back-channel message to Kaiser, indicating that if this ever happens again, I will hold him, and Victor, personally responsible. As for Victor, if Kaiser wants to hand him over for trial, I will cheerfully accept. If Victor happens to walk down the street and you arrest him, I'll accept that too. And in the absence of either of those two happy situations, we're going to do our best to make sure that New Wave doesn't do anything stupid either.”

“I could probably find him -” began Armsmaster, but stopped when she leaned forward, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

“If you found him, it would be because Kaiser wanted you to find him,” she snapped. “If we don't get him handed over to us on a silver platter, it'll be because Kaiser doesn't want us getting him. And if we pushed, they could push back. If there are as many videos as you say, public opinion of Glory Girl escalating matters would not be very high.”

“Still, legally speaking, they committed the crime. They're responsible for her injury.”

“Yes. Victor is legally, morally, and physically responsible for her injury.” She placed her hands flat on her desk and heaved herself to her feet. “It. Doesn't. Matter. Public image is all that matters, and right now the public image is that Panacea got hurt because Glory Girl couldn't pick her fights. If we back her up, then we buy into that image.” Slowly, she sat down again. “Tell me; faced with that situation, what would you have done?”

He paused for less than a second. “I would have let them go, then followed and apprehended them away from innocent bystanders.”

“Precisely.” She let the word hang in the air.

He nodded slowly; she could tell she had gotten her point across. “I'll brief New Wave and let them know what you've decided.”

“Thank you.” She indicated the computer screen. “Let me know the instant any new information develops.”

“Will do, ma'am.”

The office doors closed behind him. With a sigh, she called up the first video and began to watch it. Let's see if there's anything that the report left out.

Two minutes and thirty seconds later, she sprayed coffee over the computer screen. Not even bothering to wipe it off, she grabbed the phone. Frozen on the screen, in between the trickles of coffee, was the image of Victor crumpled on the ground. “Get. Me. New. Wave.”

<><>

“Hi, Dad.”

I pulled a chair up alongside the bed. He lay with his hands on top of the coverlet, as though he was just dozing. But there were machines on the other side of the bed, beeping softly and regularly, and he didn't stir when I took his hand. Even though I knew he wasn't just going to wake up – I didn't like Panacea very much, but I trusted her diagnosis of brain damage – I still searched his face for any signs of rousing.

Nothing.

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the prickling at the back of my eyes, and clasped his hand in mine. “They say that some people in comas can actually hear what's going on, so I'll fill you in, okay?” Despite my brave tone, I could feel the tears coming on. Peter, standing beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. I reached up with my free hand and held his tightly; he squeezed back, giving me some much-needed strength.

“Okay,” I said, once I had my voice under control once more. “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “We were in a car crash. The ABB were chasing us and shot you. They were going to do something pretty nasty to me, but Peter showed up with Jenna and Bronson and stopped them. But more ABB showed up, and they shot Peter and Jenna. Oni Lee threw a grenade, and Bronson …”

I clenched my eyes shut, a sob wrenching out of my throat. Hot tears squeezed between my eyelids. Bronson loomed large in my memory, making horrible jokes, standing between me and Sophia, being a good and reliable friend. Throwing himself on the grenade, giving his life for Peter and Jenna and Dad and me.

Peter knelt beside me and I put my arms around him. Burying my face in his chest, never letting Dad's hand go, I cried. Peter said nothing; I felt his hands stroke my hair.

After a while, I felt better. Peter handed me a tissue, and I blew my nose. “Sorry about that,” I said quietly. “Bronson was a good friend. He died saving us. Then Lung threw me in a car trunk, and I … I got powers.”

I drew a deep breath. “I'm a cape, Dad. I'm about to go and see if they'll let me join the Empire Eighty-Eight as one of them. Yes, I know how you feel about the Empire.” I paused, knowing what he would say to that. “But things have changed. I've changed. I had to do some pretty nasty things to save us from Lung and Oni Lee. People died. Then we had to do some more bad stuff to save your life, and Peter's. I'm pretty sure I can't go home again. Even if the ABB wasn't hunting us. Which I'm pretty sure they still are.”

Standing up, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I've got to take care of both of us now, Dad. Until you get better, anyway. After then, we'll talk. I love you, Dad. I'll be back later.”

Giving his hand one last squeeze, I put it back on the coverlet. Taking Peter's hand in mine, I turned toward the doorway. Othala stood there in full costume. “Ready?” she asked.

I wasn't, not really, but I nodded anyway. “Let's do this.”


End of Part Eleven

Part Twelve