The Slippery Slope [Worm AU]

[Avernus]

Coil's a sadist who makes excuses for his sadism, thus his fondness for torture. He's thinking about torturing her in a disposable timeline as he does regularly, which by definition has nothing to do with keeping her from "getting above" herself since it'll never actually happen.

And of course he's (as always) totally ignoring that it's entirely the fault of his actions towards her that Tattletale is hostile to him. Which is a major criticism of his leadership ability, since her position - a runaway girl on the street with no support - made her a prime candidate for recruitment as an actually loyal "minion". I'm hardly the first person to point out that good pay and nice treatment would have resulted in a grateful and loyal Tattletale, not a permanently hostile one.

It makes for an interesting contrast in this story, with how smoothly the Empire sucked in the similarly isolated and desperate Taylor. Who is now much more loyal to the Empire than Tattletale ever was to Coil (a low bar to be sure).

 

[Ack]

The Slippery Slope

Part Twenty-Eight: Ongoing Fallout

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Reminder for the reader that Taylor is a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight in this fic, and may express racist views that the author does not share.]


Monday, February 21, 2011
Several Minutes Before Coil's Death

Hookwolf

Bradley stalked through the base, fully armoured, grinning viciously behind his mask. This was what it was all about. With the air filtration and the lights back on again, he was on a level playing field with Coil's mercenaries … except that he really wasn't.

Sure, they had their guns and their lasers and a few of them had weaksauce powers, but he'd been going up against guns for years, and the lasers could only cut through some of his armour before he got to whichever dumbass was shooting at him. If he took a big enough hit, it would hurt, but that was the whole fucking point. Going into a fight wasn't about coming out unscathed. It was about winning, against an opponent who might have a chance of beating you.

And he was really fucking good at that.

When the doors first opened and the lights came on, he'd ploughed through the first few mercenaries he'd found without even breaking a sweat. Now they were starting to hide and snipe from around corners, playing it smart. It still wasn't going to save them, but at least he had more of a challenge.

Stormtiger, Alabaster and Cricket had gone ahead; he could hear the occasional rattle of gunfire and the muffled screams of mercenaries. This was just what they'd all needed: the chance to let loose and go all-out on a bunch of thoroughly deserving assholes. And the best bit was, Remote had pulled out altogether, even her little flying doodads going with her. Good. Time to show Max that we're better at this than she'll ever be.

Darting around a corner, he laid hold of a couple of mercenaries who didn't even have their guns up and ready. "For fuck's sake," he growled. "At least show you're fucking trying."

"N-no!" gasped one of the idiots, pointing up at the ceiling. "We need to get out of here!"

"Damn right you need to get out of here. Too bad it's too late for you." Bradley started growing extra blades out of his fist.

"No!" The other mercenary struggled wildly, almost breaking Bradley's grip. "Those lights! Danger signal!"

Bradley frowned and looked up at where a flashing yellow light was casting its intermittent glare over them. "Yeah, no shit. We're the danger."

"No, no, no!" Fuck, these cocksuckers were argumentative. "Coil told us, if those yellow lights ever come on, we gotta evac the base! Like, yesterday!"

That sounded oddly specific. Bradley stopped and thought about that for a moment. "Did he say why?" As he asked the question, the light turned from yellow to red, and flashed faster than ever.

<><>​

Coil's phone, locked in the secure transit case in the front of the PRT van, came alive. It flashed a warning on its screen and blared an alarm as loud as its speakers could manage. It had already beeped a polite warning for Coil to deactivate the upcoming self-destruct, but now it was far beyond 'polite'.

The trooper who was riding shotgun glanced down at the transit case quizzically. "Hey, do you hear that?" he asked.

The driver shook his head in negation. "Ignore it. Asshole's probably got his phone set up to try and create a distraction. We'll check it out once we get back to the PRT building."

"Copy that."

<><>​

Hookwolf

"Fuck!" shouted one of the mercenaries, struggling harder than ever. "We gotta get out of here!" His buddy also did his best to wrench himself free from Bradley's grasp. In their panic, they both dropped their rifles.

This was problematic. There weren't a lot of reasons to evacuate a secure underground bunker that didn't involve serious danger to the people inside it. Maybe gas was being released?

And then he had a recollection of Victor talking about this very base. He'd called it a 'Bond villain base', which had sparked a whole other set of memories. Bradley hadn't watched all the old Bond movies, but he seemed to recall that the classic villains had all had one thing in common: once they were defeated, their bases went up in flames, or were otherwise destroyed.

"Shit!" he blurted, releasing the mercenaries. Ignoring the dropped rifles, they bolted toward (he presumed) the nearest exit. Not that he was wasting any time; if he was right, it was time for him to leave too.

"Guys!" he bellowed as he passed the mercenaries by and sprinted for safety. "Out! Get out! Now! Get—"

<><>​

Within Coil's still-locked office, the timer on his computer ran down to zero, and a signal went out. It didn't happen all at once; the lower-level structural supports went first, so that when the upper level went, it would collapse all the harder. Up until this point, putting in the correct password to either the phone or the computer would have averted the oncoming catastrophe.

This was not to happen.

<><>​

Hookwolf

When the first charge detonated, the shock nearly threw him off his feet, but steel claws dug into the concrete and let him keep his balance. He kept running, even as more explosions sent ripples of movement through the floor and did their best to blow his eardrums out. Chunks of rubble began dropping from the ceiling; holding his arms over his head, he dodged the larger bits as best he could and powered on.

Behind him, he heard brief screams as the mercenaries failed to get out of the way in time, but he didn't give a shit. It wouldn't even have bothered him if they'd been Empire; at a time like this, it was every man for himself.

Fucking Remote should've known about this, the fleeting thought crossed his mind. She should've told us. Little bitch wants to kill us off, have the Empire all to herself.

One of the walls blew out in a welter of fire and rubble, bowling him sideways. Dust and smoke choked him, but he scrambled to his feet even as he coughed and fought for breath. More explosions blasted him with shrapnel and pummelled him with fist-sized lumps of concrete. His armour took most of it, but he knew he was going to feel every bit of it … if he survived.

The roof was collapsing in earnest now, SUV-sized chunks of concrete crashing down all around him. If one of those hit him, he knew he'd be chunky salsa in an instant, cape powers or no goddamn fucking cape powers. The door was too far away, if it was even still there.

There was only one thing for it. Dodging around the worst of the hits and weathering the rest, he started upward, clawing and climbing his way through the tumbling rubble. More dust choked his lungs and caked in his sinuses, but he ignored the burning in his chest and dug deep into the ethos that he lived by.

A true warrior doesn't give up when it gets too hard. He fights anyway.

Scratching, clawing, rending, shoving, he kept moving. Kept fighting. Kept striving. Whichever way seemed the easiest to go, he went there. Concrete broke under his steel claws, and he fought on. Seeking the open air. Refusing to submit.

Refusing to lie down and die.

And then, as he teetered on the edge of exhausted collapse, he realised that there was light leaking in around the edges of a slab of concrete directly above him. Drawing on the last of his strength, he punched upward, shattering it into pieces. Bright sunlight poured down onto him, and he looked up to see the blue sky.

Holy shit, I made it.

And that was when he passed out.

<><>​

Armsmaster

Colin stared helplessly at Coil's body as the trooper who'd come along in the EMT role shook his head. "He's gone, sir. Never stood a chance. Even if we'd had a full crash wagon available, he wouldn't have made it to surgery."

"God damn it." He turned to look over at the troopers who'd been in the back with Coil. Both had handed over their weapons without demur, and the one who'd actually fired looked tense and worried. His lie-detection software still wasn't great, but it had registered the man's lack of prior intent as being genuine.

The report would most likely throw the blame on Coil for slipping his cuffs; the troopers had been specifically warned to not give him even the slightest chance to escape, and freeing himself was absolutely the first and most crucial step for such an escape. There was no innocent explanation that could be considered.

Still, it meant that Coil could not be interrogated for what he knew and what he'd done in his time as a PRT consultant and strike squad commander. His grip on the halberd tightened at the knowledge of the lost opportunity.

The HUD in his helmet flashed to indicate an incoming call from Dragon; like a drowning man grabbing for any lifeline, he accepted it. "Hi. Please tell me you have good news."

Her avatar smiled and nodded. "Yes, I do. Sorry to hear about the shooting, but I have cracked his system. There's a lot of information in there, including the fact that he was bankrolling the Undersiders."

Colin's head came up. "Really. That's very interesting indeed."

"Well, I thought so. Would you like their address?"

His smile matched hers. "Yes. I believe I would."

It looked as though he might get his interrogation after all.

<><>​

Seven Minutes Later
PRT ENE Building, Director's Office

Director Emily Piggot

The rising pillar of dust and smoke was actually visible from Emily's office window. She was dividing her attention between that and her computer screen, awaiting further updates, when her phone rang. Without even looking, she swiped to answer. "Piggot. Talk to me."

"I'm on site now, ma'am. It's not good." It was Miss Militia, who had been dispatched as first responder to whatever had happened to the Downtown Mall. Emily knew it had to be dire, given that her windows had literally rattled and the coffee in her mug had rippled. "There's been a substantial subsurface explosion under the Downtown Mall, and about three-quarters of the mall has collapsed, along with a quarter of its parking structure. People are trapped in the rubble. I've also got witness statements saying that Hookwolf was dragged out of the rubble and driven off in a car just before I got here."

Emily grimaced. "So the Empire's mixed up with this somewhere. I knew they were being too quiet."

"Copy that, ma'am." Miss Militia paused. "I'm thinking I'll stick around and keep an eye out for other Empire involvement. Unless you need me for something else?"

"Nothing urgent, no." The word had just come in about Calvert's death in transit, for which there would be a thorough investigation per standing orders, but it wasn't as though that was an Empire plot. The idiot had somehow popped his cuffs, and one of the carefully vetted troopers had reacted lethally. End of story, and end of the line for Thomas Calvert. "Carry on, and let me know what you find out."

"Will do, ma'am. Militia, out." The call ended.

Emily sighed and took one last look at the plume of dust and smoke. It was typical of the Empire to be storing explosives in the basement of the Downtown Mall. She would be laying the responsibility of all the deaths—and there would be deaths—at Kaiser's feet, once she got her hands on the man.

It was a pity that Calvert hadn't survived long enough to be interrogated. The man had always marched to the beat of his own drum, and this time around he'd chosen suicide by trooper; not an unknown state of affairs given the circumstances. But that was only one lead cut off short; they were already getting results from Dragon's deep-dive into his home computer system.

Regarding the man himself, she would not spare even a moment mourning his fate. She had more important things to deal with right now.

<><>​

Undersiders' Hideout

Grue

Brian came puffing up the spiral staircase to a scene of general disarray. A half-packed bag lay on the sofa, two of Bitch's dogs were running around, and Lisa was typing on her laptop like a woman possessed. Alec ducked into the room and let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank fuck. What the hell's going on out there?"

"I've got no idea," Brian confessed. "Lisa just called me and said to get over here as soon as possible, so I did. What've you heard?"

Bitch appeared behind Alec. "Explosion. Big enough and close enough to make my dogs bark. Somewhere south of here. She started acting stupid after that."

"Wow, jeez, judgy much?" the Thinker snarked, emerging from her typing fugue. "Okay, here's the highlights: our secret boss was Coil. He had a base under the Downtown Mall, wired with self-destruct charges. That's what blew up."

Brian felt like he was trying to piece together a jigsaw puzzle in a high wind. "And he was inside it at the time …?"

"God, no." There was no humour in her tone. "The PRT pinged his shenanigans and kicked in the door of his house about an hour ago, but he was killed in custody on the way to lockup. Still unsure if it was accidentally-on-purpose or just plain accidental. Anyway, they've got access to his home computer system, and they'll be finding out about us, and where we hang our hats. So we gotta vamoose, compadres. Light a shuck. Get the fuck out." She gestured at the bag beside her, by way of example.

"But … they don't go after capes at home," Alec objected. "Unwritten rules and all that shit."

Lisa growled under her breath. "Who are you trying to kid? Armsmaster would totally kick the door in and arrest us all. And the PRT wouldn't give a single, solitary damn. So you morons need to pack everything you can easily carry, and put it in Brian's car now."

"You could've told me all this over the phone," objected Brian. "I need to pack too."

"We needed you and your car over here," Lisa stated without a hint of shame. "We can always go back after we've got our stuff in your car. I figure we've got fifteen minutes, but I'd like to have as big a lead as possible."

"Yeah, but—" Alec began, but broke off when all three dogs started barking. At the same time, Brian heard a very distinctive sound approaching. "Shit, that's Armsmaster's bike!"

"The fuck?" Lisa's eyes widened. "There's no way—oh, for fuck's sake! The colossal asshole called in Dragon! Forget fifteen minutes! We've got fifteen seconds!" Slamming her laptop shut, she jammed it into her bag, then yanked the charger out of the wall socket and bundled it in on top.

Brian hesitated; he didn't have anything here to grab, and Bitch's dogs were still far too small to ride. Slapping on a domino mask, he headed for the landing and started pouring black fog down into the lower area. But even before the rising tide came close to eclipsing the door, he smelled burned metal and saw a glowing yellow-white line carving the lock away. Then there was a crash and a clatter, and the door was indeed kicked in.

Armsmaster stepped in through the doorway, and looked up at Brian. The black fog was up to his chest by now, rising steadily. But it was too late; the veteran hero had seen him, and knew exactly where the spiral staircase was.

"Grue!" Armsmaster's tone was both commanding and peremptory. "Surrender now, and you'll have a chance for a lighter sentence!"

Yeah, right. As if. Brian knew about the ongoing disparity between the sentencing of black criminals and white criminals for identical charges, and he had no reason to believe it would be any different for capes. "How about no!" he shouted back. "Do you even have a warrant?"

"No need!" Armsmaster forged his way toward the staircase as his helmet vanished under the black tide. "This is officially an abandoned property!"

Brian had no idea about the legality of this—his apartment was leased to his real name, with real money going on rent every month—but it looked like Armsmaster believed it. There was no way the Protectorate cape was going to give him or the other Undersiders even the slightest leeway. Until Rachel's dogs were grown large enough to ride, this was going to be a fight.

Heavy boots rang on the risers of the spiral staircase, and Armsmaster's helmet rose out of the black fog again as he climbed steadily. Brian adjusted the outflow of the black fog to pour over Armsmaster's head and shoulders in the hope that it would slow him down, but the armoured hero had one gauntleted hand on the spiral outer rail to guide the way. His tread never faltered, and his halberd led the way like the bowsprit of some bizarre ship.

Even though there was just one of him and four of them, Brian knew that this was very bad indeed.

<><>​

Clinic Under Medhall Building

Taylor

"Wow," I said to Victor as he set Hookwolf up on an examination bed and started an IV line. "He looks wrecked. Is he gonna be okay?"

"He's in one piece, so yeah." Victor shrugged. "Bruises don't matter to him. Neither do scars." And, to be fair, Hookwolf had plenty of both at the moment. "He actually regenerates pretty quickly, so long as nothing's gotten to his core."

"The entire damn bunker, plus half of the Downtown Mall, fell in on him." I shook my head in disbelief. "It's a miracle he wasn't crushed when the charges went off."

He grimaced. "Yeah, well. Now we know what those damn electromechanical switches were, that we were all wondering about. I honestly wouldn't have picked it. Who actually sets up a self-destruct for their own damn base? Especially one that goes off just because the power gets cut then restored?"

Kaiser wheeled his way into the infirmary. "It goes to illustrate, yet again, that whatever powers he actually possessed—if he had any powers at all—he suffered from a profound lack of forethought. After all, he came at us with the expectation that there wouldn't be any kind of backlash accruing."

Victor tilted his hand from side to side. "To be absolutely fair, he did employ Circus and Shadow Stalker as catspaws, and set Lung on us instead of attacking directly with his mercenaries. If we hadn't figured out he was behind it all, he'd be sitting pretty right now."

I was in no mood to praise the dead. "He gambled and lost. Fucker deserved to die, especially after what he's done to us." Normally I was fairly sensitive about people dying, but Coil had made himself the exception to the rule.

"Oh, I'm not denying that." Victor shook his head in negation. "The way you took him out was masterful. Shot by a PRT trooper, inside a PRT transport, while they were en route. That's got to be the ultimate in locked-room murders."

"Executions," I corrected him. "Or maybe trash disposal. Someone like him doesn't deserve to have their death considered murder."

"We're getting side-tracked," Kaiser interjected. "How soon will Bradley be recovering, and what's our next move? Lung's dead and Coil's dead. How do we best capitalise on this?" From the calculating look in his eyes, I could tell that he had ideas on the matter, but he was interested in hearing our input before making the final decision.

"Recovery, not long." Victor gestured at the recumbent Hookwolf. "He took a hell of a beating and ran through all his reserves clawing his way out of there, but with saline to replace his body fluids and glucose for energy, he'll be coming around sooner than later. As for the rest of it … hmm." He rubbed his chin, thinking hard.

"That question covers you as well, Taylor." Kaiser looked keenly at me. "You're one of my most valuable capes, don't forget. It's due to you that Coil and Lung are both off the board. I'm interested in your opinion on matters."

And that right there was one of the reasons he had my loyalty. He saw me, recognised my contributions, and was willing to give me credit for them. "I'm not an expert in any of this," I reminded him. "But I'm thinking the PRT will be watching us like hawks for any kind of visible move on the rest of the city. So when we do move, we make it subtle, hard for them to come down on with any kind of definite force."

Kaiser smiled. "I like it. Victor?"

"She's got a point, boss. They've been on the back foot since Lung, and losing Coil will be a big black mark on their record. They'll be desperate for any kind of win. So if we make any kind of overt move, the type they would normally monitor and log but not interfere with, they'll come down on it like a ton of bricks. So we need to do stuff that's behind the scenes, or at least very hard for them to roll up on with a bunch of troopers."

"Fuck that," rasped Hookwolf, struggling to sit up. We all looked around at him; I was personally impressed as hell at his rate of recovery.

The look in his eyes, I was less enthused about. I'd seen that look before, on Sophia's face, the implicit promise I will fuck you up. It seemed a good idea to defuse whatever new excuse he had to be pissed off with me, so I backed up to let Victor and Kaiser talk to him in my place.

"So how are the others?" he asked. "They get out okay?"

Victor took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You're the only one who made it out, that we know of."

Sitting all the way up, he grabbed the IVs and yanked them out without even a twinge. His feet hit the floor, and he braced himself upright. "The fuck you say. Why aren't we in there, digging them out?"

This time, Kaiser answered. "The men who'd been watching the outside exit were injured by the explosions, and the ones in the parking garage were killed when that exit collapsed. Crusader dragged you out when you dug yourself free. The Protectorate and PRT were only minutes away. We didn't have the manpower available to hold off the authorities and look for our people. So, I told Crusader to get you and the surviving men out of there before you were snapped up too."

"Fuck." The word was mostly a growl. "Okay, so what are we gonna be doing about her?" Not even bothering to look at me, he made a dismissive gesture in my direction.

"Her? Which 'her'?" asked Victor, just to give him the chance for an out.

Of course, being Hookwolf, he refused to take it. "Remote." Blades slid into position on his forearms. "She did this. Sent us in there when the place was going to blow."

"Stand down." Kaiser spoke firmly. "Taylor is not at fault, here. She saw the switches for the self-destruct mechanism, but didn't know what they were."

Victor spoke up. "I didn't know either, even though she described them to me. None of us considered that Coil might've been that much of an idiot. More to the point, she was going to clear out the place using her remote devices. You were the ones pushing to go in 'to show her how it's done', instead of letting her handle it."

"He's right." Kaiser shook his head. "I don't know if the self-destruct triggered because of his death, or the power fluctuations, or even if he just set it off out of spite, but Taylor did warn us that he'd anticipate our attack, and that he might set up traps to kill our people. Which is precisely what happened."

Hookwolf breathed deeply, apparently pushing his anger down. I was mildly impressed; he liked to present as the unstoppable barbarian, but he knew when to take a step back. "Fine," he gritted. "You're saying Coil's dead?"

"Yes." Victor gestured toward me. "We intercepted his transport, Taylor popped his cuffs, then when the PRT troopers pointed their guns at him, there was an unfortunate live-fire incident." He smiled grimly. "I would pay a great deal to get access to the body-cam imagery of his face at that moment."

"Okay, he's dead. We don't get our Iron Cross, but that's fine." Hookwolf gave me a reluctant nod. "So if Tiger and Cricket and Alabaster are still alive, what do we do about that?"

I shrugged. "As soon as they get them to the PRT building, I lead the strike to go in there and get them out. They're my teammates as well."

He snorted in derision. "Lot easier said than done there, girl. You're good, but what're you gonna do against capes?"

I refused to back down. "Wait until they're off site or otherwise accounted for, then shut the whole damn building down and go in to get our people out." I snapped my fingers. "Guns and locks are my bitch, or had you forgotten?"

Kaiser and Victor shared a glance, and Victor nodded. "I'll keep an ear out to my sources in the building. As soon as I hear anything, you'll be the first to know. In the meantime, I'll get started on modding your suit to go in there."

"Thank you," I said to him, then turned to Hookwolf. "We can go at each other's throats and win the PRT's fight against us for them, or we can work together. What's it gonna be?"

He grimaced. "That's a no-brainer. Work together."

"Good," I said, with a smile I didn't really mean. "I'm gonna go read to Dad. Let me know when anything happens."

Turning, I left the room, but a spot between my shoulder-blades was beginning to itch. Hookwolf had nearly turned on me once. With the slightest of excuses, he might do it for real.

If he did, I'd be ready.

<><>​

Danny Hebert

It was hard to focus, but Danny thought he knew where he was. And it wasn't a good place. From the snatches of conversation he recalled from his more lucid moments (and he was self-aware enough to understand that the term 'lucid' was being generous) he was in the Medhall building, which was also the headquarters of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Worst of all, Taylor was both a cape and a member in good standing with the Empire.

He couldn't move his head more than a fraction of an inch in any direction, but he swivelled his eyes sideways toward the bulky oxygen tank that loomed alongside the bed. His life depended on the cannula that ran into his nose and down his throat. He'd seen this sort of thing before; at some point, the brain injury he'd suffered had hampered his ability to breathe on his own, and it was only the steady flow of oxygen into his lungs that kept him alive.

He'd grieved at the death of his nurse, though the actual sequence of events had been chaotic and confusing to his dulled senses. The new one was less of a nurse and more of a combat medic, if he was any judge. But the only people who spoke to him, much less held his hand, were Taylor and Peter.

He'd been aware that none other than Othala was working to heal the brain injury that had laid him low, but now she was gone. Dead, he suspected, from the attitudes of those around him. At least, she wasn't visiting him anymore. Which meant that the clarity and agency her healing had given him to this point was all he was ever going to get.

He could open his eyes and follow objects, after a fashion, but it tired him out. Likewise, he could move his hands slowly and grasp objects. The strength was still there, but he was lacking in dexterity. His legs were entirely out of his control; wriggling his toes was as far beyond him as jumping to the Moon.

But even if he'd been able to move his arms and legs enough to fall out of bed and crawl from the building, there would be no way to evade the members of the Empire (well-meaning and otherwise) who would stuff him back into his hospital bed.

And so, all he could do when Taylor walked in was lie there in the bed and squeeze her hand with his when she took it. She squeezed back, her smile lighting up her face.

"Hi, Dad. So, um, you'll be glad to know we got him." He knew his facial muscles weren't showing any kind of expression, but she must have picked up some hint of his puzzlement because she continued after a moment. "Coil, I mean. He had this underground base but he wasn't there, and it kind of blew up, and …" She visibly stopped herself. "Sorry, I was talking about Coil. The PRT arrested him, but he totally would've spilled the beans about the Empire and Medhall, so we took him out of the picture. Totally untraceably, too. They think it was a trigger-happy trooper. So between him and Lung, we got the bastards who crippled Mr Anders and killed Diane. And, you know, put you in this bed."

As he listened to her, his heart broke all over again. Before this whole mess had started, he would've given an arm and a leg to hear her chattering so happily again, but this was wrong. The Empire had taken his daughter and turned her into a killer. Worse, she believed in their cause now. And every time he tried to show he hated what she had become, she interpreted his hand-squeeze as approval.

"But there might be a problem." Her changed tone got all the attention he was capable of mustering. "Bradley. Well, you'd know him as Hookwolf. I used to think he was cool, but when Coil's base blew up, I think Cricket and Stormtiger were killed. Alabaster too, maybe, though it's more likely that he's trapped under the rubble."

Well, good, he thought, as fiercely as he could. His hand squeezed Taylor's in an attempt to convey this sentiment.

"Yeah, I'm worried too," she said, returning the squeeze. "If any of them are alive and the PRT dig them out, I'll totally be going in to spring them from custody. But it's Hookwolf I'm really worried about. He was never in favour of me being Mr Anders' second in command, and for some stupid reason, he blames me for the others being caught when the base collapsed. I'm beginning to wonder if I should do something about him."

He wanted to nod, to say something, to give her as undeniably positive an answer as he could manage. Of course she should do something about Hookwolf. If the Empire cape was a danger to her, then he needed to be dealt with.

"You think I should, don't you?" she asked. He squeezed her hand hard, and she squeezed back. "Yeah, me too." She paused then, and took a deep breath. "Okay, I need to think about that. In the meantime, I guess you want to know what's going to happen next."

There was a rustle from outside his field of vision, and then a book came into view. She opened it one-handed and began to read. Her hand was warm in his, and he closed his eyes to listen to her words.

<><>​

Armsmaster

Having his vision entirely blocked off was not an ideal situation, but Colin had planned for eventualities like this. His armour had the capability of scanning the area using radar and sonar—he'd gotten the idea from Cricket—then building a 3D model of the environment to throw onto his HUD. While it wouldn't account for people, at least he wouldn't be running into walls.

The radar was best for crisp imagery, but that simply wasn't working right now. Which meant that he had to depend on the sonar; static objects resolved better than moving ones, apparently because the black fog seemed to hamper sound as well (though not as badly as it did light).

He reached the top of the spiral staircase and moved forward, halberd raised in a defensive posture. The plasma blade had been taken offline, but he had injectable sedatives and a wireless taser for anyone stupid enough to face him off one-on-one.

The HUD showed him a wireframe view of a room with a sofa and what looked like a large-screen TV; a corridor led off toward other rooms. Flickering hints of movement told him that there was at least one person in the room with him; the software tried to fill in the gaps, but could only give him a best guess. Still, a best guess was better than nothing at all.

The HUD sketched out a human form half a second before a solid blow rammed into his abdomen, sending him back a step. He swung the halberd, trying to block any follow-up attacks, but it seemed his opponent—Grue, at his best estimation—was nobody's fool. The next blow hit his left forearm, apparently in an attempt to loosen his grip on the halberd. He maintained his grasp on the weapon, though it wasn't easy.

This could be a concern. The failsafe built into the halberd, where he could teleport it back to his hands, required a radio signal to get through to it. Inside Grue's darkness, no such signal would propagate. If he lost his halberd now, he would not be able to retrieve it so easily.

Resetting his grasp on the weapon, he pivoted and drove the butt of it toward the software's best approximation of the location of his opponent. There was the slightest hint of contact, as though Grue had twisted away, but nothing solid enough to warrant celebration.

This conclusion was borne out when a flicker of movement near the floor presaged a hammer-blow on his left shin. It nearly took his leg out from under him; he stumbled sideways, his halberd coming out of line as he used it to steady himself. He knew damn well that if Grue got him on the floor, he might have serious trouble getting up again.

Backing off, he brought the halberd around in a defensive manoeuvre, seeking to knock away any more attempts to take his legs out from under him. And then his HUD gave him another image; he levelled the halberd and triggered the wireless taser. Nothing happened; a moment later, he recalled that the weapon relied on a UV laser to ionise the air and carry the charge.

Grimacing, he jabbed forward with the butt of the weapon. The sonar gave him just enough of a sight picture for him to make contact. Again, Grue almost evaded the strike, but this time a brushing impact was enough. Electricity crackled.

While he couldn't get enough input to form a full image, he heard the thud easily enough.

The blackness around him faded away, and he saw Grue lying untidily on the floor before him. He never hesitated; taking a swift step forward, he jabbed the husky young man with a dose of sedative that would put him down for hours. One down, three to go.

A whistle and a bark were all the warning he got before a heavy impact took him from behind. He went down, rolling, and found one of Hellhound's massive dogs looming over him. It wasn't as big as they usually were when the young villains rode them across town, which was probably why they hadn't already decamped. It was big enough, however, to give him problems if he couldn't get up fast. Two more crowded into the room behind it.

"Hold!" shouted Hellhound, and heavy jaws clamped down on Colin's right forearm. He tried to level his halberd at her, but the dogs were in the way. The taser crackled anyway, causing one of the huge animals to spasm and fall away. Hellhound's next shout was pure anger.

As he tried to get to his feet, the dog yanked on his arm, pulling him off balance. Hellhound whistled again, and the other dog still standing lunged in to grab his other arm. Bringing his halberd around, Colin deflected the attempt, then reversed it and jabbed the first dog with the taser. It let out a strangled yelp and collapsed, releasing his arm.

"Don't hurt my dogs!" screamed Hellhound, then let out a more urgent whistle. The third dog was still growing in size with its skin beginning to split here and there; it leaped at him, jaws wide. He rolled to the side and came to his feet, then nailed Hellhound from across the room with the wireless taser. She collapsed, eyes rolling back in her head, but the dog didn't stop attacking. However, it did stop growing, for which he was grateful.

Even as he swung to deal with it, his right leg went out from under him and he went down again. Nothing had hit him this time, though he had his suspicions; when he saw Regent at the far end of the corridor, they were confirmed. Even as he levelled the taser to deal with the new interruption, the aggravating teen ducked back out of sight.

The dog came at him again, snarling ferociously. He fended it off, allowing it to seize the haft of the taser and pull it from his hands. This gave him the time to climb to his feet and move out of the line of the corridor. If Regent wanted to snipe him again, the boy would have to come a lot closer.

The dog shook the halberd back and forth then dropped it, preparatory to coming at him again. He found himself admiring the level of training; many attack dogs would have either lost interest by now or focused on the halberd. With a simple HUD command, he triggered the teleport, returning the halberd to his hand. The dog still came in, but he was ready for it this time; he gave it the heaviest jolt the wireless taser could deliver, putting it on the ground.

Hellhound was groaning her way back to sensibility when he reached her; her attempt to mumble a command to her equally-stricken dogs was foiled by a timely injection of sedative. Then he strode down the corridor, halberd ready to deliver a taser jolt to any importunate supervillains who might wish to ambush him.

Doors lined either side of the corridor, bearing artistic representations of the villains who apparently resided there, but he ignored them for the moment. It was Regent he needed to subdue, and the youthful villain had placed himself at the other end of the corridor. "Surrender, now!" he called out. "You can't get away."

"How about no?" Regent leaned into view, hand just beginning to gesture; Colin triggered the wireless taser, and the young idiot went down in a spasming heap. Keeping his guard up, Colin proceeded into what seemed to be a kitchen/dining area, with Tattletale nowhere to be seen. However, there were kitchen cupboards, a few of them standing just a little open, with saucepans and other utensils sitting untidily on the floor next to them. He dosed Regent with sedative on the way past, and sidled toward the nearest cupboard door.

<><>​

Tattletale

Shit, Alec's down. Take the bait, take the bait …

Lisa peered out through the slit in the bathroom door until Armsmaster's bulk vanished from sight. When she heard the clank of a saucepan being nudged aside, she eased it open and slipped out into the corridor. Moving as quietly as she could, she tiptoed back into the living area and bent over Brian's unconscious form.

Sorry, but there's no way I'd be able to get you out of here. Intuiting which pocket he had his keys in, she slid two fingers in and hooked them—

"Tattletale!"

At the bellow from the other end of the corridor, she yanked the keys out and bolted for the exit. Behind her, she heard Armsmaster's boots pounding along the hallway, but she'd long since practiced her next move; parking her butt on the stair rail, she slid all the way down in one dizzying swoop, far faster than she'd be able to make it on foot. He'd left the door wide open, which gave her the lead to get outside just before he got in range with that damn wireless taser of his.

Armsmaster's cycle was sitting just outside, but even if she'd been inclined to try to steal it, there was no way she had the time. Besides, it was probably fitted with an ejector seat specifically for idiots with bright ideas like that.

Brian's car was just down the street; she bolted for it, heedless of the rough pavement under her bare feet. Stabbing the key into the lock, she opened the door and slid behind the wheel. The engine turned over just as Armsmaster emerged from the doorway; she slammed it into gear and just barely avoided stalling it as she took off.

He was making for the cycle as she did so, and she had the sudden and uncomfortable insight—entirely unrelated to her power in this instance—that he'd be able to catch her easily once he got astride it. So she gritted her teeth and swung the wheel; he jumped back just in time, and the car jolted with a grinding noise all the way down the side. As she roared off down the street, she looked into the rear-view mirror. Armsmaster's bike was lying on its side, and he was in the process of getting it on its wheels again.

She took the next corner at speed, then slowed down and took two more corners at random before she even began to relax.

Okay, she told herself as she pulled into a handy parking garage to indulge in a good case of the shakes, what do I do now?

Because she had no boss, no hideout and no team, and Armsmaster would definitely be on her case from here on in.

Unless she thought of something good, her future in Brockton Bay was looking remarkably bleak.



End of Part Twenty-Eight

 

[Sonic]

The story lives!!!!!!

 

[Avernus]

"The entire damn bunker, plus half of the Downtown Mall, fell in on him." I shook my head in disbelief. "It's a miracle he wasn't crushed when the charges went off."

He grimaced. "Yeah, well. Now we know what those damn electromechanical switches were, that we were all wondering about. I honestly wouldn't have picked it. Who actually sets up a self-destruct for their own damn base?

Click to shrink...

Yeah; "base self destructs" are common enough in fiction, but there's a reason you don't see them in real life. Real life self destructs are typically things like small bombs on classified electronics, or anti-defusing devices on bombs. Wiring up a whole base to explode is just asking for disaster.

But Coil just had to have his underground Bond Villain base, and as a result a great many versions of Coil in various fanfics have had their base explode with or without them inside. If he could have figured out how, he'd have probably built his lair in a volcano suspended over a lake of lava just to really lean into the cliche.

 

[Jade Isentry]

he'd have probably built his lair in a volcano suspended over a lake of lava just to really lean into the cliche.

Click to shrink...

Bonus points for artistic/architectural use of lava-falls in the base design, with the ability to activate and deactivate them as passage blockers to trap and roast foolish unsuspecting heroes!

 

[Neko Tamo]

Hookwolf developing a grudge on Taylor is unfortunate and more than a bit unreasonable but not implausible either. No matter how he justifies it Hooky probably mainly dislikes Taylor because he is losing power and influence to her. Him blaming her on for his own recklessness is just motivated thinking and he will continue to find slights until things come to a head. I doubt Taylor will be able to avoid that bit of infighting unfortunately.

As for the slow and steady expansion plan, hmm. On one hand I get that the Empire is now the biggest and even only target in town therefore not giving the Protectorate clear targets makes sense.
However moving too slowly opens up the risk of a new threat rising to fill up the void, or perhaps coming from outside (Travelers, the Teeth or even S9 could be lured to BB).
Guess we will see how it works out for them.

Also I think it was refreshing to see the Undersiders trashed. Too often they get undue slack due to their canon position, and in a similar but reversed situation Armsmaster often gets clowned on in fanfics. So to see the reverse is very nice.
I wonder what Lisa will do? I think she is one of those people who wouldn't mind cutting a dream e with the Empire if it suits her.

And will you look at that Taylor is planning a breakout already. I could see Tattletale making that deal or even joining the Empire, both for her own safety and secondarily to help her teammates.

Anyhow a nice update.

I will probably aim to do a reread before the next update, I'm starting to forget some things. Hopefully I can have a bigger review then. Great job as always Ack and I'm very much looking forward to more of my favourite story.

 

[Avernus]

Hookwolf developing a grudge on Taylor is unfortunate and more than a bit unreasonable but not implausible either. No matter how he justifies it Hooky probably mainly dislikes Taylor because he is losing power and influence to her. Him blaming her on for his own recklessness is just motivated thinking and he will continue to find slights until things come to a head. I doubt Taylor will be able to avoid that bit of infighting unfortunately.

Click to shrink...

It's not just power and influence; she's been showing him up. She even outright compared him unfavorably to himself before the last Lung fight.

I keyed the radio mic. "No, what you need to beat Lung is an awareness of how to take away his strengths and get past his defenses. You've just been trying to fight him. I intend to kill him."

"Big words." Hookwolf's voice was a sneer. "There's no way you can do this on your own."

"You never laid a hand on Oni Lee, in all the time you were fighting him," I reminded him. "I broke his arm in our first encounter, and killed him in our second one. Now it's Lung's turn."

Click to shrink...

So far she's killed Oni Lee, Lung and Coil, while Hookwolf has killed...Stormtiger, by insisting on a face-to-face with Coil despite Remote warning him about the likelihood of traps. She's humiliated him, mostly without intending to but she did it all the same. Hookwolf doesn't strike me as the kind of man who responds well to being shown up like that.

And yeah I agree, sooner rather than later it's likely to result in a fight.

Also I think it was refreshing to see the Undersiders trashed. Too often they get undue slack due to their canon position, and in a similar but reversed situation Armsmaster often gets clowned on in fanfics. So to see the reverse is very nice.

Click to shrink...

Also, it was kind of funny for me to have to remind myself "Wait a minute. They're the villains. The villains. It's OK for Armsmaster to win" given how often they are on the protagonist's side and benefit from protagonist centered morality.

 

[Ack]

The Slippery Slope

Part Twenty-Nine: Lethal Intrigue

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Reminder for the reader that Taylor is a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight in this fic, and may express racist views that the author does not share.]

Monday Afternoon, February 21, 2011
An Abandoned Warehouse

Greg Veder

One eye was puffed up to the point that he couldn't see out of it, and his nose felt about five times as large as it should be, but Greg was still on his feet. He stumbled forward, focusing on Steve, the guy Kelly had picked to be his opponent. All around them, the Empire guys yelled encouragement; most of the shouts were for Steve, but a few were for Greg. They don't all hate me. He clung to that.

He'd been fighting every time he showed up. Being hit still hurt, but at least he wasn't going down in a blubbering mess on the first punch. The first fight had been over in seconds, the next one had lasted a little longer, and so on. But he hadn't won yet.

Every time he lost, Kelly had looked him in the eye and told him that he could walk away at any time. Greg knew what that meant. It meant he'd lose his chance to be in the Empire, to earn Taylor's respect. And it also meant that they'd come down on him ten times as hard as before, because he'd tried to be one of them and failed.

Steve came at him, not as steady on his feet as he could've been; Greg had flailed away as hard as he could on the first pass, and a few of his hits had landed. Heartened, Greg set himself and fired off a punch. At the same time, it felt like a bomb had exploded on his right cheekbone, rocking his head back, but he still felt his knuckles smack into flesh.

He staggered away, feeling the heat of the latest punch, trying not to inhale the blood dripping down from his sinuses, blinking hard to keep his one good eye focused on Steve. He could fold now, and maybe he'd win his next fight. It would be easy.

But Kelly would know that he'd folded, and he'd finish the fight himself. Greg had seen him do it with other prospects. It was better to keep fighting.

Steve seemed to be pissed at Greg for staying up for so long; he came in like a bull. The next punch swung wild, and Greg pulled back to let it just graze his jaw. It would've put him on the floor if it'd landed, but it just stung a bit, and it gave Greg the opening to get in right next to Steve.

He punched Steve as hard as he could. It wasn't a very scientific blow, but this wasn't a very scientific fight. With his left hand, he grabbed Steve, then he punched him again with his right. Steve tried to push him away, and Greg head-butted him.

His forehead crunched into Steve's mouth and his ears rang, but now Steve was swaying. A couple of punches landed in his ribs, but there was no strength to them. Greg punched Steve again, then kneed him in the crotch. Steve sagged, and Greg head-butted him again, this time right on the bridge of his nose. Cartilage crunched, and Steve went limp.

Greg nearly went down with him, but remembered that he could let go at the last moment. As Steve collapsed altogether, Greg just barely stayed on his feet, though the room was starting to spin around him in great looping circles. Kelly reached him a moment later, supporting him with one arm and holding his hand up with the other. "And Veder wins!"

Holy shit. I won. I beat him.

Things went fuzzy for a bit there. When his head cleared again, he was sitting on a bench while one of the girls held an ice-pack to his eye. With her other hand, she was cleaning the cuts on his face with a cloth dipped in antiseptic. Kelly was standing in front of him, chatting with a couple of the other guys.

"He's awake," said the girl. She leaned in and gave Greg a kiss on the cheek. "Nice going, tiger," she whispered. "You just won me a hundred bucks."

"Yeah, yeah, make out with him later." Kelly waved her away. She got up and left, taking the ice-pack with her. "So, Veder. You made the cut. Congratulations."

"Th … thanks." Greg gazed owlishly up at him. His eye was still swollen, though not as badly as it had been. "So who else have I gotta fight? You?" Kelly would massacre him, he knew, even if he wasn't beaten all to shit.

"Nah." Kelly chuckled. "Just so you know, this wasn't a normal part of the initiation. Couple of the guys figured that you kinda deserved it, for the stuff you've said about us in the past. So I figured, why not have you fight someone one-on-one. The gauntlet isn't personal, but this is. Give you a chance to punch back. And you finally won. So, they don't have any more problems with you. Or if they do, they'll bring it to me."

"Oh." That was entirely inadequate, and Greg tried to figure out what else to say. "So, what else do I need to do? Or was that it?"

"One more thing." Kelly leaned in and patted him on the shoulder. That hurt too. "But rest up a bit first. Then it's the final part. You get to prove you're loyal to the cause."

Greg knew what this meant. As oblivious as he was in most things, pop culture had reached him about this one. He was going to have to hurt a minority. "Do … do I have to kill someone?"

Kelly frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Do you want to?" Then the frown turned to a smile. "No, you don't have to. If we went around offing subhumans just to get more guys into the Empire, we'd lose half our new prospects to murder charges. But you are gonna have to show that you're better than them. You win, they lose, and you're in the Empire. Simple as that."

Yeah. Simple. Greg wondered if he could do it for real. Hurt someone who'd never done anything to him, just so he could be in the Empire.

Then he thought about Taylor, and about the girl who'd called him 'tiger' and kissed him on the cheek, and his doubts faded a little. They didn't go away altogether, but they certainly became less prominent.

Which left the last problem.

Is Mom really going to let me out of the house again after I come home looking like this?

He bet none of the other guys had a problem with that.

<><>​

Medhall Building

Remote

I was still reading to Dad, with Peter at my side, when Victor entered the room. He was still showing the effects of mourning for Othala, but there was a pleased edge to his demeanour. "Taylor, may I see you for a moment?"

This had the air of good news, so I carefully placed the bookmark and kissed Dad on the forehead. Peter got a peck on the lips. "I'll be right back," I murmured to the both of them.

I nodded at Stella on the way out, and she ducked her head in response. She would take good care of Dad while I was gone, I knew. Anyone else trying to kidnap or kill him would have a fight to the death on their hands. If Stella had anything to do with it, their death.

If I had anything to do with it? They'd wish I'd only killed them.

Once Victor and I were outside, with the door closed, I turned to him. "Talk to me."

He raised a finger. "I've got some good news, and I may have a solution for your Shadow Stalker problem. All I need is for you to hear me out."

I knew his opinion of the 'problem'; specifically, that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. The easiest way to deal with it, as far as he was concerned, would be a single gunshot or knife-slash, then burial in a shallow grave far from civilisation. This being the nerve centre of the Empire Eighty-Eight, I would have no shortage of people literally competing for the privilege.

Though, if I were to be completely honest with myself (and there was no other way to go through life, as far as I was concerned) if I chose that path, I'd gank her myself. I didn't give a shit how much of a right everyone else thought they had for that particular job, I'd earned it a hundred times over in the last eighteen months.

But I wasn't about to do it that way. Krieg had captured her alive, and some part of me objected to murdering helpless prisoners, no matter how despicable they were or how close they'd come to murdering Peter or Dad. If he'd just killed her on the spot, things would've been a lot simpler all around. But he hadn't, and that's where we were.

I had a choice to make, and I made it. Professional first, personal second. "Okay, so what's the good news?"

"Cricket and Stormtiger are alive." He let himself smile slightly. "The PRT dug them out of the rubble about half an hour ago."

"And Alabaster?" I frowned. If anyone had been likely to survive that collapse, it was him.

"No." He shook his head. "They carried his body out, but something had crushed his head flatter than a lead pancake."

"Ah." That was a blow.

I could've shown more emotion about it, but Alabaster was one of Hookwolf's coterie, who hadn't quite accepted me yet and probably never would. They didn't think I'd really earned my place as Kaiser's lieutenant, which didn't bother me; I was never really going to trust them. Knowing the other two were alive was a bonus, though. If we could break them out of PRT holding, they could be of use before they inevitably tried to betray me.

"Yeah." He was taking it harder than I was, which wasn't a surprise. He'd known them for a lot longer.

"So, you said something about a potential solution?" His earlier caveat made my query a little more cautious than it might otherwise have been.

He nodded. "When you were talking about amnesia from a tap on the head, it got me to thinking. That sort of thing just doesn't work reliably, and it can even reverse itself on occasion. However." He raised his finger again. "I propose that we brainwash her. Fuck with her brain so hard, using electroshock and psychoactives, that she won't know up from down, or her left elbow from last Tuesday. She'll remember that the Empire Eighty-Eight is based in Medhall, but she'll also 'remember' that Eidolon controls the Endbringers, that the Triumvirate actually run Cauldron, that Scion wants to destroy the world, and a dozen other equally stupid conspiracy theories. And she won't be able to stop telling everyone about all of it, all the time, and trying to recruit the coffee machine to help her save the world from Alexandria."

I rubbed my chin as I thought about it. While it would be a horrible invasion of her mind and agency, it wouldn't kill the psychotic black bitch, and that was my hard line. And to be absolutely fair, she and Emma had done their best to gaslight me into killing myself more than once, so this was just payback served really fucking ice-cold. A thought occurred to me. "And can you make sure that she never comes near me or Dad again? And any time she sees Emma or Madison, she beats the shit out of them?"

Victor didn't chuckle, though he smiled slightly. "With the Tinkertech psychoactives Gesellschaft can supply, I could make her squeal like a fat little black piglet every time Director Piggot walks in the room."

I didn't hesitate. It sounded perfect. "That," I said, pointing at him. "I want you to do that, along with everything else. Also, can you hack into the PRT building security footage? I really, really want to see her get her ass kicked by a forty-year-old has-been."

He hesitated. "Not … with any certainty. I'm good, but they've got a whole lot of people who are almost as good, and quantity has a quality all of its own."

"Do we know anyone who can?" I wasn't about to let this go if I could possibly manage it. Making it so Sophia would fuck her life up beyond belief was one thing, but I wanted to see it happen. Daytime TV had nothing on this.

He frowned, considering the problem. "Leet might be able to make something that'll tap into their security, if he hasn't already. Apart from that, Tattletale sometimes posts things online that heavily hint at an ability to reliably break through their firewalls."

"Tattletale." I'd heard the name before. "One of the Undersiders, yeah?"

"That's the one." He gave a tight grin. "Tries to put people off their game by pulling details of their lives out of her ass. High-end Thinker, but not as great as she thinks she is."

"Hm. Could we commission them for this?" I had no idea if they even took them. The Undersiders had a rep for smash-and-grab raids on jewellery stores and other places where small, light valuables could be easily removed from the premises. Putting a tap on the PRT building security feeds didn't really sound like the same thing, but I was definitely willing to float the idea. As I'd once heard someone say, 'If you never ask the question, the answer's always no.'

Victor's eyebrows rose. "I've never heard of them agreeing to do commissions, but I don't know if anyone's ever asked, either."

"Well, put out the word." I paused for a moment. "Do you know of any reason they might turn our offer down?"

"Apart from ideology?" He shrugged. "Not that I can think of."

I smiled thinly, recalling something Kaiser had said. 'Principles are well and good, but they don't pay the bills.' "Good." A thought occurred to me. "And, you know, we could use that to also figure out when the capes are out of the building, for the best time to go in and get Stormtiger and Cricket out."

He paused, opened his mouth, paused again, then spoke at last. "I thought that was what you meant all along, and you were just joking about Piggot beating up on Shadow Stalker."

"Why, yes," I declared as unconvincingly as I could. "I did indeed mean that. It was a funny joke, wasn't it? Ha. Ha. Ha."

Victor actually smiled at that, and slapped me on the shoulder. "You'll do, kid. You'll do."

<><>​

Tattletale

Okay, all I have to do is keep my head down while I grab some supplies, locate a new car, then fuck off into parts unknown.

It was a plan; or rather, it would pass for one in poor light. Lisa didn't like any part of it, but she knew she couldn't stay in town under the current circumstances. Worse, Brian's car now had an extremely distinctive scrape down the side of it where she'd sideswiped the Armscycle onto the sidewalk. She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the armoured hero would be scouring the city for her, and the merest glimpse of the offending vehicle would bring him down on her.

This was a lot more fun when the rest of the Undersiders were still around to fall back on. Having Coil as an employer, even with all its downsides, had also involved some bonuses. Right now, though, she was the last member of a team that had never bothered forming ties with any of the current criminal powers in Brockton Bay. That independence, which she'd once considered liberating, was now coming back to bite her on the ass.

Leaving the car in a deserted back street, she piled her hair on top of her head and pulled a ball cap down over it. Any kind of close-up inspection would identify her hair colour, but at a distance it was indeterminate enough to maybe pass muster. Moving confidently—trying to sneak around while it was still light out would draw more notice than it avoided—she approached the ATM she'd spotted on the way in.

One last scan of the area assured her that nobody was close enough to either spot her PIN or jump her once she had her funds in hand. There was a camera on the machine, which was what the bill of the ball cap was for. She inserted the card, tapped in the six-digit code with her knuckle, then told it to dispense a thousand dollars. Picking machines at random across the city, she figured she'd be able to build up enough to go off-grid for a month or more, then leave town before Armsmaster narrowed down his search for her.

The ATM beeped discordantly, and a cold chill washed down her spine. Two words flashed up on the screen: FUNDS FROZEN. She blinked, then stabbed the 'Cancel Transaction' button to get her card back.

Absolutely nothing happened.

Fucking Armsmaster. Her power belatedly filled in the sequence of actions leading up to this point. When she'd fled the loft, she'd been too intent on snagging the keys to grab her bag, which had her laptop in it. He'd no doubt delved into it, possibly asking Dragon to work her magic on the encryption, and come up with all her banking details.

The money would still be in those accounts, even the funds she'd 'liberated' from Coil's operations when and where she could. But the trouble was, Armsmaster had set it up so that when she tried to pull some out, her card would be sequestered. And she'd walked straight into his little trap.

Which means he's on the fucking way, right now.

Even as that last thought registered, she was sprinting back toward the car. She had no way of knowing where he was in the city, so his response time was impossible to anticipate. But he would absolutely have arranged for an alert to be sent to him the moment her card went into the machine; even before she typed in the PIN, and long before it revealed the good news to her about her frozen funds.

She had to assume he was going to be on the spot within five minutes. He wouldn't bother getting off the Armscycle this time; on seeing that she'd fled, he would begin a search pattern immediately, and turn up the car within five more minutes. So, it was up to her not to be within the range of that search pattern when he showed up.

Her imagination filled in the sound of the incoming motorcycle as she staggered up to the car. Cardio was something she knew she should get started on next week, but next week was always far away. Wrenching the door open, she plopped her ass into the driver's seat and stabbed the key into the ignition. The car roared to life; she snapped her seatbelt into place, then peeled out of there.

As she drove, her mind jumped from point to point, trying to chart a course out of the ocean full of shoals she'd suddenly found herself in. The money in her purse amounted to thirty-two dollars and change; not enough to eat for more than a few days, and less if she wanted to fill the tank. Currently, the needle was pointing at a little under half full.

You had one goddamn job, Brian. Keep the damn car fuelled up for a quick getaway.

Yanking her mind back from that rabbit-hole, she tried to figure out how to create a support structure out of nowhere, one sturdy enough to resist the pressure of Armsmaster trying to apprehend her. The only way to do that, she knew, was to join a gang. Unfortunately, the options for that were both scarce on the map and problematic.

The Merchants were out for more reasons than one, but mainly the fact that she wasn't into hard drugs, either using or selling. Far too many downsides. Also, she'd heard a rumour that Skidmark was dead, and that the gang as a whole was disintegrating in real time.

Uber and Leet were technically an option, but there were four sticking points. One, she'd have to pretend to like video games. Two, she'd seen the outfits that female video game characters got crammed into. Three, it was entirely possible that she'd be less safe from law enforcement with them than without them. Four, those basement gamer neckbeard types had an extremely well-deserved rep for being creepazoids around attractive women—see point two, above—and she had no desire to lock herself into a situation where she'd be alone with them for long periods of time with no way out.

Faultline's Crew, on the other hand, had a rep for professionalism, but Faultline herself would likely laugh in Lisa's face and kick her to the curb.

Just surrendering to Armsmaster in the hope of getting leniency had gone out the window when she busted his bike up. Besides, she was not a fan of the idea of being shoehorned into the Wards as a provisional member; her first stop would probably be the infamous Wards 'boot camp' run by Alexandria across the country. And even if she got through that without losing her last vestiges of sanity, she'd still be under suspicion for every last mischance and unfortunate happenstance that happened within a three-mile radius of her location.

And that would be if her father didn't get notified of her situation and shell out some 'donations' to get her posted to his immediate vicinity, and released into his custody when she wasn't being a good little hero for the Wards program.

Hard pass, thank you very fucking much.

Which left exactly one cape organisation within the city where she could realistically expect to avoid arrest, even by Armsmaster. She was even of their preferred recruitment type: Caucasian and blonde, so-called Aryan perfection. But the downsides were … well, they were definitely downsides.

It wasn't that she had a particular problem with breaking the law and hurting people. This kind of went hand-in-spiked-glove with being a supervillain. But her brand of hurting people tended toward fucking with heads rather than kicking them.

If she walked up to the Empire Eighty-Eight and asked to join, the probabilities were high that they'd expect her to go all Bitch of Buchenwald on some poor unsuspecting minority, just to earn her place. From then on, performative racism would be the order of the day. And that was entirely separate from the possibility that she'd be required to pay her dues as the girlfriend of some high-ranking member of the organisation, like Hookwolf or Stormtiger.

That mental image rated a full-body shudder, right there.

But she wouldn't have been who she was if she didn't have a talent for seeking out the angles and the edge cases. Pulling up on a quiet street well away from the catastrophic attempt to get at her cash, she took out her phone and started doing research. If she could come at the Empire from a position of strength rather than weakness, there was a faint possibility that she'd be able to negotiate her own terms. And a faint possibility was better than no possibility at all.

As she sorted through various information sources, she caught a reference to something she could maybe work with. Her eyebrows rose and she narrowed her search priorities, and it indeed looked useful. Well, now. Isn't that interesting?

The problem was, she didn't know who to contact so that she'd be listened to. She did know that their latest member, Remote, was a girl. A memory popped up at that point, of footage she'd seen of a teenage girl with dark hair and glasses arguing with Glory Girl and Panacea about healing injured people, backed up by Victor and Othala.

That's totally Remote. Lisa knew it beyond a doubt. The only other teenage girl in the Empire lineup was Rune. Lisa had met her, and they did not get along. But if she could make a connection with Remote …

She delved back into the internet, trying not to overstrain her power but knowing that she needed to locate a specific number sooner rather than later. If she tried to connect through anyone else at all, they'd likely gatekeep her until they'd gotten some kind of concession. This was also what villains did. And assholes.

The faintest twinge of a familiar headache was starting to prod at her temples when she finally managed to isolate what she needed. Clearing the rest of her search history, she saved the number, then leaned back in the car seat and breathed deeply. Whatever happened with this call, she knew, was going to decide the trajectory of her life for quite some time to come.

Tapping the number into the phone, she hit the button to make the call.

<><>​

Remote

Mulling over what Victor had passed on to me, I went back into Dad's room. Peter had been quietly conversing with Stella while I was outside, but the conversation ended once I showed up again. I took my seat alongside my boyfriend, and gave him a quick squeeze.

"Not that I'm complaining," he murmured, "but what was that for?"

"You being you." I smiled and didn't explain any further. It was good to see Peter treating our people as people and not just disposable cookie-cutter minions. This was similar enough to Dad's principles in the matter that I found it both comforting and familiar. When he reached the higher echelons in the Empire, the organisation would be in good hands.

"Well, that clears everything up nicely." He grinned as I wrinkled my nose at him. "Am I allowed to ask what Victor wanted you for?"

I considered the question, then nodded. It would be no great secret soon enough: the first bit, anyway. "Stormtiger and Cricket are alive, though Alabaster didn't make it. They're in PRT holding."

"God damn it," he muttered, shaking his head and lowering his gaze to the floor. "It's always the ones you don't expect to die."

"I know." I grasped his hand and squeezed it. "You knew him a lot better than I did. I'm so sorry."

"To be honest, he barely knew I existed." Peter shrugged. "He lived for the cape side of things, and never mixed much with us mere mortals."

"Still, losing him is going to hurt the Empire, and the ones who did know him well." I took a deep breath. "And keep this to yourself, but Victor and I were talking about maybe contracting outside assistance to break them out of there."

"Whoa." His eyebrows rose. "Yeah, I can see why you'd want to keep that bit quiet. The Empire's always been strong on self-sufficiency. If this gets out, some people are going to be very unhappy." He paused. "So … can I ask who you're looking to contract? Please tell me it's not Uber and Leet."

I was happy to shake my head. "We considered them, but they're just not reliable enough. And that's even if they're willing to work with us."

"So, who did you decide on?" He was actively curious by now.

At that moment, my phone rang. I pulled it out; Peter stopped talking while I checked the screen. It was a number I didn't know.

Frowning, I swiped to accept the call and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hi. I'm talking to Remote, yeah?" It was a teenage girl speaking, chirpy but with an undercurrent of concern.

"That depends." I said the two words carefully. "Who is this?"

"Okay, yeah, good point. Cold call and all that. So, this is Tattletale, of the Undersiders. I take it you've heard of me?"

I took a moment to stare at the phone. Had Victor called her already? Was this her call-back? "I've heard of you, yes. Why, exactly, are you calling this number?"

There was a startled chuckle at the other end of the call. "Holy shit, you were just about to call me? No, wait, you wanted to contact me but didn't have my number. How lucky was that?" She paused for a moment, possibly to give me time to answer. I didn't make any comment. "Right, right. Strong silent type, got it. Okay, so I'm calling you up because I think we can help each other. Mutual assistance, alliance of convenience. Enemy of my enemy, that sort of thing."

"Mutual assistance." I repeated the phrase as I tried to figure out where she was going with this. "What enemy do we share?" It couldn't be the ABB or even the Merchants. I'd decapitated both those gangs. Literally, in Lung's case.

"The PRT, duh." She chuckled again, but the sound had a strained quality to it. "They've got two of your guys and three of mine. I'm offering to give you all the four-one-one on their rostering and patrol routes I can glean out of their systems, give you a clear run to bust Stormtiger and Cricket free, in return for you freeing Grue, Regent, and Bitch at the same time."

I blinked, trying to assimilate that. It was a bold offer, one that gave her a lot of reward for little risk. However, there were a couple of potential problems. "Interesting suggestion. How do you propose to bypass the antagonism between Hookwolf and Bitch?" He was just as likely to leave her in her cell as he was to 'accidentally' kill her. The one thing he wouldn't do was let her go free to keep raiding his dogfights. I was reasonably certain that even if I directly ordered him to do just that, he'd kill her anyway.

"I was hoping we could reach some kind of solution to that. As well as the Grue problem." She sounded less chirpy and more serious, now that we were getting down to brass tacks.

"One second." I frowned. This was new to me. I held the phone to my chest and turned to Peter. "Does the Empire have any beef with Grue of the Undersiders?"

He paused, thinking about it. "No, not that I can recall. Why?"

"Still figuring that out. Thanks." I put the phone back to my ear. "What's the Grue problem?"

I heard her draw a deep breath on the other end of the line. "Well, for one thing, he's black."

Oh. That could definitely be a problem. I hadn't had good interactions with any black person, ever. And it was kind of telling that this was the third black criminal cape (I was definitely counting Sophia in that number) I'd encountered in Brockton Bay. "What's he like as a person?" Given the potential utility of Tattletale's offer, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Once.

"He's a good guy. Well, as good as supervillains go. Tries to be a good team leader. Tells it like it is. Cares for his—uh, his family. Doesn't drink or do drugs; this is not Skidmark two point oh we're looking at. Or Shadow Stalker's equally evil twin brother."

"So, what you're saying is, he's an effective leader." She hadn't actually said that bit out loud, but the subtext was definitely there.

"Well, I guess so. We haven't screwed up too badly in the last few weeks, despite the best efforts of Bitch and Regent." That was interesting. It sounded like she was losing patience with her teammates. Maybe I could use that.

"Okay, so I want you to put yourself in my shoes." I paused to give her a moment to catch up. "If we went ahead with this, as soon as the deal was done, we'd be competing with you all over again. And given your unique capabilities, you'd learn more about us than we would about you. Long story short, you'd come out of this with a lot more than we would. Tell me I'm wrong."

There was a long pause, then she sighed. "You're not wrong," she admitted. "I'd try to argue that Cricket and Stormtiger are more effective than my three put together, but that's subjective as fuck, so how about this. You come up with suggestions for how we might make this deal more equitable, and I'll see what I think about them."

"Okay, but I'm going to need some more details first. How is it that your entire team got captured but you got away? Did a heist go bad? Did you throw them under the bus?"

"No." Now she sounded grumpy. "We used to work for Coil, on the quiet. He'd get us to do jobs he didn't want to be connected with. When he ate a bullet, Armsmaster got the information about us out of his files. Showed up on our doorstep and kicked our asses. I got out by the skin of my teeth. Happy now?"

I was learning a whole lot today. "So all the stuff you were doing, that we all thought was random, was Coil pulling strings behind the scenes?" That was diabolically clever, and entirely on-brand for the man.

"Some of it, yeah. Sometimes we'd do our own stuff, but most of it was Coil trying to make things happen as a result."

"Huh." An idea started evolving at the back of my mind. "Okay, then. I'm willing to offer you the same deal with us for, say, one year. If I propose this to Kaiser and he says yes, then he'll be able to make sure Hookwolf doesn't do anything rash."

"Wait, what?" She sounded startled again; I seemed to have that effect on her. "We wouldn't have to join the Empire, would we? Regent's enough of an asshole to just say the words and forget about it, but I'm reasonably certain Grue would have a problem with being connected with you guys. And that's not even covering the issues Bitch would have."

"No, no." The idea expanded in my head as I talked. "You'd be totally separate from the rest of our operations. If we wanted to put the Empire's name to something, we'd do it ourselves. But if there was something we wanted to accomplish on the quiet, we'd call on you."

"Huh." I could tell she was thinking about it. "While Coil was alive, they just knew we had a secret boss but not who. If I can pull that off again, it might work. But … no matter who we're working for, Bitch isn't going to stop raiding Hookwolf's fights. There's no way he'll be happy about that."

I thought back to my own plans for Bradley Meadows. "If I was able to handle that side of things, would you still be interested in the deal on the table?"

"Handle … ow." I wasn't sure what had just happened. Had she stubbed her toe? "Does that mean what I think it means? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know."

I considered my options, then repeated the question. Just as she didn't want to know, I wasn't about to tell her. "Are you interested in the deal?"

She took a deep breath, audible over the phone. "We're going to need to talk money, but for a preliminary, yeah. I'm interested. I can't speak for the others—they might decide to go their own ways—but so long as you get them all out alive and healthy, I'll work for you for a year. But I don't do any initiations, get any tattoos, or shave my head. I want that in the agreement."

"That's totally legitimate." I smiled as I spoke, certain she'd pick up on it. "Now, I can't lock something like this in on my own initiative, but I'll go and run it past Kaiser and see what he thinks. Can I call you back on this number?"

"Um …" She hesitated. "Is there any way you could get me off the street until Kaiser says yea or nay? It's just that Armsmaster's doing his best to hunt me down for knocking his bike over, and I honestly don't know how long I can keep ahead of him."

I couldn't help it; I chuckled. "I am going to have to get that story sometime. But okay, I know where there's a house that's empty right now in the suburbs. It's been that way for a couple of weeks so it'll be musty, and there's no water or internet, but there is a sofa bed in the living room, and the electricity should still be on." Since Dad and I had dropped off the face of the earth, the ongoing sale had stalled. I gave her the address. "There'll be a key in the fake rock near the back steps."

"Bring my own water and food, got it. Well, it's definitely better than nothing. Can I ask whose house it is?"

Well, she'd figure it out sooner or later anyway. "Was mine, but not anymore. The PRT already knows who I am, so it doesn't really matter if you figure that out too."

"They've got fairly strong suspicions, yeah. The question is, have you yanked their tail hard enough for them to be watching your house?"

"Not to my knowledge. The only hero I've gone head-to-head with so far has been Glory Girl, and she came out of it alive. And like I said, it's been a couple of weeks, so I doubt they're beating the bushes for me."

"They aren't. Thanks for the loan of your place."

"No problem. I'll get back to you as soon as Kaiser gives me an answer." Ending the call, I looked around at Peter, who was staring at me with something approaching awe. "What?"

"Did you … did you just hire Tattletale to help break the guys out of holding?" My eyes widened; he chuckled and shook his head. "No, I haven't suddenly triggered with Thinker powers. But you dropped enough clues during that call to make it clear what was going on."

Well, I'd known he wasn't stupid. "Okay, yeah, that's what's going on, once Kaiser okays it. Again: no repeating this to anyone." I made sure to include Stella in the admonition. "Understood?"

"Totally," Peter agreed. Stella just nodded.

"Good." I took up the book and handed it to Peter. "Do me a favour and keep reading to Dad? I'll be back shortly."

He accepted it and opened it at the bookmark. "Absolutely. Don't be long. I wouldn't want you to miss too much."

"Then I'll just have to steal your copy." Leaning in, I gave him another peck on the lips.

He returned it. "I can't fault your logic."

Grinning, I left the room.

<><>​

CEO's Office, Medhall Building

Kaiser

Max raised his head as an alert pinged on his laptop. He clicked on it.

Taylor: Coming up to see you. Something I need to run past you.

He thought he knew what it was about, but he typed a reply anyway.

Max: Come on up.

Next, he pressed the intercom button for his executive assistant. "Ms Harcourt, please hold my calls for the next ten minutes. I will be in a meeting."

"Yes, sir." Her reply was brief and to the point. He knew she'd hold to it; for the next ten minutes, come hell or high water, no calls would be passed through to him.

Approximately thirty seconds later, there was a tap on his office door. He cleared his throat. "Come in!" he called.

Taylor opened the door and stepped inside, then carefully closed it behind her. "Good evening, sir," she said politely, moving toward him. "How are you feeling?"

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. "I'd be feeling a lot better if everyone stopped treating me like a damn china vase. I'm a paraplegic, not dying. And Panacea was nice enough to make it more manageable than most."

She didn't jump in with a defence or a condemnation of the healer. "Alright, sir, I'm not going to waste your time with that. I do have something I need to ask you about, though."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is this about the Shadow Stalker thing? Victor already spoke to me."

"Actually, no, it's not." She paused. "Though I'm definitely interested in your thoughts on the topic."

"Just one." He shrugged. "Why not cut out the middleman and send her straight to Gesellschaft? We'll get her back with whatever personality we desire." He didn't actually like how much of a hold the German organisation had over the Empire Eighty-Eight, but while he had their patronage, he figured, why not use it?

Taylor was shaking her head before he'd even finished. "No, sir. That would just be killing her with extra steps. I've decided I don't want her dead. I want her to spend every minute of her life aware of who she is and what she's done, and regretting the fact that she ever chose to cross me."

"And apparently squealing like a piglet every time Director Piggot walks past," Max added dryly.

"That's a consequence of her crossing me." Taylor raised her eyebrows slightly and spread her hands. "She'll be totally aware of that. And unable to say a single word about it. If anything would engender regret, that would."

"Or hatred." Max felt it was important to make note of that as well. "Regret doesn't last forever."

Taylor snorted. "She's hated me since long before she had a reason. I'm not in the slightest bit concerned over her opinion of me right now, or ever again."

"Your point is well made." Max touched his fingertips together, reminding himself that it was due mainly to Shadow Stalker's idiotic persecution of Taylor Hebert that both girls were within the Medhall building: one in a position of power, and the other one … not. "So why did you come to see me, if not about her?"

Taking a deep breath, Taylor stilled her features. Max recognised the signs of her activating her power; logic would rule her thought processes from this point on. Some called it creepy, but he welcomed it. When Remote used her power like this, what he saw was what he got.

"Earlier, I received a telephone call," she recited emotionlessly. "It was from Tattletale. The Undersiders had previously been employed by Coil; when I killed him, Armsmaster learned of their location, went there, and captured the other three. We negotiated a potential employment contract, under which she would hack into the PRT systems and supply us with intelligence on their cape movements. In return, when we went in there to extract Cricket and Stormtiger, we would also release Grue, Regent and Bitch. She would then endeavour to convince them to also take employment with us, in the same manner as they had with Coil, for the span of one year."

She stopped speaking then, awaiting his reaction. Trying to determine her opinion on the offer, he studied her expression closely. But he was fighting a losing battle there; with her power active, she had no tells.

"So … she doesn't want to join the Empire, but work for us in a secret capacity for a full year? And she's hoping to have the other Undersiders join her in this, once they're freed?" It didn't sound totally off the wall; Coil had evidently managed it for quite some time. "Also, what about Hookwolf's dogfights? I can't see Bitch letting that go on, even if she was working for us."

"I'm still considering various solutions for that. The easiest one may be to simply tell her to leave town. I presume that ordering Hookwolf to cease holding dogfights would be unworkable." Her expression never shifted, which was more than Max would've been able to manage under the circumstances, given the extreme nature of the understatement involved.

"You presume correctly." He shook his head. "I don't indulge, myself, but it's a useful outlet for the men."

"Understood. And the rest of it? Assuming a solution was reached, would the Empire be able to make use of the Undersiders via a covert arrangement?"

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his chin with forefinger and thumb. "You know what? If it gets us Stormtiger and Cricket back, I'm willing to give it the old college try. Contact Tattletale. We'll work something out."

"Thank you, sir." Taylor seemed to slump a little; she took a deep breath and ran her hand over her face. "Whew. Sorry, sir. I was a little nervous about just running all that past you with zero notice."

He smiled. "Quite alright, Ms Hebert. You've shown initiative, then you brought the result to me. I'm sure we can work with this."

"Awesome." She sounded relieved. "I'll, uh, get out of your hair now, sir. And I'll let you know what Tattletale says."

"I look forward to it." He watched as she exited his office and closed the door behind her. Well, that was interesting. We'll be able to do a lot with Tattletale on board.

Bringing Taylor Hebert into the Empire, he decided, had definitely been one of his better moves.



End of Part Twenty-Nine

 

[Jade Isentry]

Heeeeeeeeell-YEAH! It's ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

Damn... that's horribly violating, infuriating, and frustrating. I feel for Tattletale, having her resources stolen by the government like that. It is one of the great evils of our society that the government even has the power to do that, and is one of the many reasons that turning into a completely cashless country is one of the very worst things that can happen.