Trump Card (Worm AU) [Complete]

Trump Card

Part Thirty: One Damn Thing After Another

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



Taylor Hebert
Pwnage Base
Thursday, February 10, 2011

Growing up, I'd never suffered from any particular criminal tendencies. I didn't steal money from Dad's wallet or Mom's purse, I never cheated on tests, and experimenting with cigarettes or alcohol was something other people did. In fact, I only went into crime after getting powers and finding out there was no legal way to bring Emma Barnes to account for what she'd done.

However, one thing Mom had instilled in me was a love of reading. I liked all kinds of books; non-fiction, adventure, fantasy, science fiction … and mystery. As befitted an English professor, Mom had a collection of the classics by Doyle, Poe, Wodehouse, Heinlein and others; in my spare time, I read as many as I could get my hands on. One thing I took particular pleasure in was studying the clues presented in a Sherlock Holmes novel and figuring out what was going on before Holmes connected the dots for a befuddled Watson.

As such, I knew how easy it was to leave incriminating traces for the forces of law and order to connect the heist we were planning to Pwnage. They wouldn't have any kind of motive to work from (except for the obvious one of 'we wanted to steal it'), their knowledge of our methods was necessarily sketchy, and I was intending to use my one big cheat to make 'opportunity' look like a no-show. Besides, even though they were guaranteed to decide it had been done with powers, it was in our best interests to obscure exactly which powers had been used.

Fortunately, the closest I'd come to being caught was the night of the North Side robbery. That had been far too close for comfort, but since then I'd crafted Alibi, who had come in handy on several occasions, and been kidnapped twice, which I thought was faintly ridiculous. I mean, in a city full of supervillains I could see it happening once (especially when it came to Coil) but having it happen a second time was was very irritating.

Shooting Lung in the face with my stun rifle had been quite therapeutic in that regard. Although it couldn't have done his pride any good, especially after the humiliation I'd inflicted on him in our first fight. Giving him the little notes had been Lisa's idea; she'd managed to get him foamed six times in less than a week. The highlights reel she'd crafted out of footage 'extracted' from the PRT security archives was utterly hilarious, though I'd put my foot down when L33t wanted to insert it into the show somewhere. No sense in letting the forces of law and order know everything we could do, after all. Or even most things, for that matter.

Which was why nobody outside of Pwnage or the Undersiders had even the slightest inkling of Alibi's nature. The Brockton Bay PRT and some of the Protectorate (and Wards) technically knew of my existence, and the nature of my powers, but it seemed they had yet to make the conceptual leap to figure out where Alibi had come from. And since Alexandria herself had arrived from Los Angeles to intercede on my behalf, they were being very hands-off in their actions toward me. Which I didn't mind in the slightest, because it gave me a lot of leeway.

I figured that even with the hands-off order they were still trying to get a hold over me; after all, the undercover cops masquerading as relief teachers in the halls of Winslow weren't all that hard to figure out. With a little help, of course, from the counter-surveillance skills I'd acquired from Über's power. What they didn't seem to realise was that their presence actually worked to my advantage, allowing Alibi to be seen by reliable witnesses while I was doing something illegal elsewhere.

All of which didn't mean we could slack off on the prep for the Great Endbringer Caper. Each of us had a part to play. After I dusted off the devices I'd constructed to generate Alibi's outer appearance (well, pulled out of storage and made sure they were working right—there was no way I'd actually let dust settle on them) I set to work creating what I needed to build a replica of one Kathryn Grant.

As the executive assistant to Deputy Director West of PRT Department 24 in Washington DC, Ms Grant was ideally placed for our plan to gain access to the accumulated material gleaned from Endbringer attacks over the years.

However, this wouldn't just be a rebuilding of Alibi to make her look like Ms Grant; I had zero idea of what protocols and safeguards the real Ms Grant would have to correctly deal with in the normal course of the day. Or how she acted around her boss and co-workers. Even if I boosted my acting capabilities to the max with Über's power, I'd never be able to be her. Unless we cheated, which was of course what we were going to do.

Alibi could pretend to be me, because part of her programming involved checking back with my brain any time she encountered a situation that the semi-autonomous habits didn't cover. The Kathryn duplicate needed to be able to do the same with her original, which meant a three-way linkage rather than a two-way; orders would come from me, the context and subtext from Kathryn herself, and the duplicate would supply the action. Which in turn meant I had to get L33t to build some stuff for me, because while I could dismantle and then rebuild my devices, I still couldn't have two identical (or even near-identical) working models. We'd discussed building an entirely new brain for the duplicate as opposed to reusing the brain I'd built for Alibi; on the one hand, reusing the brain would save him the time and labour of building one for himself but on the other, I didn't want to lose the accumulated experience that Alibi had built up. In the end, I decided to put together a gestalt storage unit to download her essence into while Kathryn's duplicate was using the brain. After we were done, I could reverse the process and have Alibi back.

L33t's part was to build a control strip that would stick to the back of Kathryn's neck, much like the strip I'd made to control Alibi, and not only transmit information from Kathryn's brain to the duplicate, but also keep her in REM sleep while this happened. However, before that, he had to build a very similar device which would spend a day or two transmitting data scanned from Kathryn's waking brain to the duplicate's, in order to imprint her personality and habits on its core. This needed to be installed in something she habitually wore, preferably something with a power signature. Über had already noted that Ms Grant wore a Bluetooth earpiece, which suited our requirements right down to the ground. All we had to do was acquire it, disassemble and build our extras into it, then return it to her before she noticed it was gone. I'd be busy building a brand-new Kathryn Grant with the DNA, the hair sample, and the Tinker-tech body scan to work off, so it was up to Über to be the burglar.

This would not be Über's only role, of course. Groundwork had to be laid in other areas, so he plotted out the script of what L33t chose to call Operation Concern Troll. However, Über had only just begun his work on this when L33t and I had our first real argument since I'd joined the team. Fortunately, Über stepped back through the doorway from Seattle in time to interrupt the screaming match before it got too far along.

“Whoa, whoa!” he shouted, waving his arms in a scissoring motion. When Über raised his voice, he could really project it, so L33t and I fell silent. “Okay, what the hell's going on here? I was gone ten minutes, and you're at each others' throats? What the hell happened?”

L33t and I both spoke up at the same time, each trying to talk over the other.

“She's totally unbelievable—” “He just started yelling—”

“QUIET!” he bellowed, and we both shut up. For a long moment, he just breathed in and out, calming himself. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and level. “I'm going to give each of you a chance to tell me what's going on. The other one will stay quiet. Is that understood? Nod if it is.” His gaze raked over both of us; I nodded, followed by L33t.

“Okay, then.” He looked at the both of us, and seemed to spend a few moments making up his mind before speaking. “You're going to walk me through it. L33t, how did it start?”

I bridled at that. Why couldn't he talk to me first? But I knew he'd be fair about it, so I kept quiet with an effort.

“Right.” L33t glanced at me. “I came into her workroom to ask her about the control strip thingy, because I had trouble understanding some of her notes. So I asked to see the original. Give me an idea how it went together.” He opened his mouth to go on, raising his voice a little. “But she—”

“Okay, stop.” Über actually put his hand up like a traffic cop, and L33t shut up. “Okay, Hax, he came into your workroom, yeah? What happened then?”

Über's interruption had given me time to tamp down my anger, so I was able to face him calmly. “I said no.” At this point, I was starting to wonder if I really was as much in the right as I'd thought before. Oh, well, in for a penny. “He asked why. I told him, and he went totally off the deep end—”

“Whoa. Stop.” Über did the traffic-cop thing to me, then turned back to L33t. “What did she tell you? Why couldn't she show you?” Even as upset as I was, I had to admire the total concentration he was applying to each of us. It was probably a skill he'd acquired using his power, but it was working. Still, I wasn't going to enjoy this next bit.

As soon as Über finished speaking, L33t opened his mouth. “Because it's part of her. Dude, when she was fighting Lung, he hurt her a lot worse than she told us later. That stupid Manton field generator made Lung's power think stuff was part of her, so when she regenerated the damage he did to her, things like the control strip got built into her.” His glare at me was more of frustration than anger. “She shoulda told us.”

“Really?” Über switched his focus back to me. “Is this true? What else got built into your body because of that?” He didn't seem to be fazed by that at all. Then again, he'd known L33t for years. This was probably only a minor mishap by their standards.

I sighed. “The RFID chips I use to make the suit fold on to me. Maybe a couple of small components from the suit itself, I'm not sure. I looked it over as closely as I could while we were on the road trip, but I couldn't see anything important missing.” I tried to give him a serious stare. “Is it really that big a deal? I'm healthy, there's no harm done. The control strip was the last thing that people could use to tell me apart from Alibi, so that's a good thing, right?”

“No. It's not a good thing.” He gave me a stern look. “We're a team, Hax. We work together, we kick ass together, and we don't hold important stuff like that back. And you knew it was important, or you would've just told us.” He paused to let that sink in, then asked one final question. “Why didn't you tell us?”

My eyes wanted to look anywhere but at him. I forced myself to meet his gaze anyway. “Because I knew you'd freak out.” My voice wasn't much more than a mumble, but then I gave L33t an accusing glare. “And I was right. He totally freaked out.”

Über sighed. “Hax. You should've told us. L33t. You shouldn't have freaked out and started yelling at her.” He shook his head. “I really thought better of both of you. Especially you, Hax. Keeping stuff like that from us, especially when it could come back to bite you in the ass later, isn't good for you or the team. Got it?”

I wanted to argue the point, but it wasn't like I had a leg to stand on. “Yeah, okay.” This was about the point where Über was likely to tell us to apologise to each other, so I decided to get in early and turned to L33t. “I'll apologise later, but not right now. I'm still too pissed.”

He shrugged, already looking less unhappy about matters. “Yeah, I shouldn't have freaked out like that, either. And holy crap, where did you learn how to swear? I'm nearly ten years older than you, and I can't swear like that.”

Still smarting from being taken to task like a five year old, I shrugged. “Dad's a Dockworker. I guess you pick up things.” Anxious to change the subject, I looked over at Über. “So how'd it go in Seattle?”

His dry look informed me that my obvious ploy had been noted, but he answered me anyway. “Went really well. I pulled up one of my sock-puppets in the tinfoil-hat part of the boards, and posited that the PRT was grinding up bits of Endbringer and injecting it into their best agents to make instant capes. That got half a dozen replies, ranging from 'Som1 from the PRT told me that too' to 'ur fukd in the hed nube'.” I was impressed by his ability to convey the spelling by tone. “By the time I left, the flamewar was well underway.”

“You know the mods'll put a stop to it before it gets too far,” L33t pointed out. “You gotta keep the heat going or it'll die out.” He headed back toward his workspace. “I think I'll have another look at those blueprints. That control strip isn't gonna build itself.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna go online in a minute and throw some more gasoline on the fire,” Über agreed. “I think this one's going to quote someone they know who said that Endbringer material evaporates after a certain time.” He watched L33t go, then turned to me. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked quietly. “You know he means well. He's just concerned about you, is all. We both are.”

I tried not to glower at him. “I don't like being shouted at,” I said shortly. “My … my mom died in a car crash, and all I can remember is Dad shouting at her while she was lying there in the morgue …” Turning away from him, I wrapped my arms around myself. “I hate being reminded of that,” I said, trying not to let my voice catch.

“Hey.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “I'll go talk to him, all right? He didn't know. Hell, I didn't know. But it won't happen again. And if you want to go home and take the afternoon off, we'll understand.”

“No.” I turned back toward him. “I'm in the middle of building the Kathbot. Once I've got it up and running, then I'll go do something to unwind. But if I stop now, I'll have to start all over again tomorrow.” Something occurred to me. “And tell L33t he's gotta knock before coming into the work room.”

He frowned slightly. “Okay, I get that you're still upset with him. But making him knock—”

“No, it's not that.” I waved his words away impatiently. “I mean, yes, I'm still pissed with him, but you're gonna have to knock too.” I gestured at where I had the articulated skeleton set up on a rack. It, at least, didn't have to be Tinkertech. All that was in the brain, for the most part. “I'm going to be putting the outer body on soon. So until we can get some of her clothing, she's gonna be naked in here. So knock before you come in, okay?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, but there was a doubtful tone to her voice. “You do know it's just a puppet, right? There's no person inside. No real mind, yeah?”

“It's about the proprieties,” I told him firmly. “I'd feel weird if you guys looked at Alibi without her clothes on, and this woman would almost certainly freak out if she knew someone was building an anatomically correct duplicate of her. I mean, beyond calling for Master/Stranger protocols on herself to make sure we couldn't replace her.” I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. We're still gonna do this thing, but let's not make it creepy, okay?”

Über nodded seriously. “No being creepy, check. Got it. I'll go tell L33t to remember to knock in future.” He paused. “And as for supplying her with clothing, we don't really need her clothes, do we? Pretty sure she's about L33t's size, and I seem to recall he's got a set of sweats he hasn't worn in about two years. I'll go finagle them out of him. They should do until you can get her into the house, yeah?”

“Duh.” I didn't facepalm, but it was a near thing. “Fuck, I'm an idiot. Yeah, that'd be perfect, thanks.” While I still didn't feel quite like smiling, I shrugged in silent apology at making him do all the heavy lifting as far as problem-solving went. “Good thinking.”

“Hey, we can't all be lucky enough to end up with bullshit hax Trump powers.” With a smirk that was almost as smug as Lisa at her finest, he strolled out of the work-room, whistling a tune I seemed to recognise as the theme for some first-person shooter or other.

I put it out of my mind; the duplicate wasn't going to build itself, after all.

<><>​

Max Anders
Medhall Building
Friday, February 11, 2011

Max poured a couple of fingers of prime aged bourbon into his glass, then leaned back in his chair. “James. Tell me you've got good news. Tell me you know how to dismantle this new team before they become more of a problem.” The ice cubes made tiny clinking sounds as he sipped at his drink.

Krieg shook his head. “I've shaken the bushes and pushed my police contacts as hard as I dared, but there's very little to be had. Whatever the PRT have on Hax, they've got it locked down hard. Even the watchlists don't have anyone resembling her on them.” His expression sour, he poured himself a drink and sat down. “They're serious about this. It seems your man wasn't exaggerating about Alexandria's reasons for coming to town."

Hookwolf stood up from where he'd already been sitting, and splashed some of the bourbon into his own glass. “I've got two things. One, the girl who got kidnapped is called Taylor Hebert. Pretty sure it isn't Hax's real name, but she cared enough to rescue the girl. Twice, even.” He sprawled back into his chair and downed half the bourbon in one gulp. “And the other bit's about how she actually got rescued from Lung. Turns out it wasn't Hax. It was the Undersiders. That's the word on the street, anyway.”

Max controlled the grimace brought about by watching good liquor being maltreated in such a fashion, and nodded firmly. “Yes, I know about the Hebert girl. She's fifteen, and she attends Winslow High. It's definitely not her. The Coil incident had Hax next to the Hebert girl, on camera, for a significant amount of time. And from what I understand, Lung only kidnapped her because he wanted information about Hax.” The information about the Undersiders was new, though.

“So there's our in. We want Hax's attention, she's the way.” Hookwolf finished off his drink and smacked the glass down on the low table next to him; Max was grateful that it didn't shatter on impact.

“Wait a moment, here.” Purity had been sitting quietly up to this point, almost fading into the background. But now, she sat forward. “Are we seriously considering kidnapping a fifteen year old girl?” Even if her body language hadn't shouted out her feelings about this, the tone of her voice certainly did.

“I have to ask the same question,” Krieg said. “If only because two other villains have done the same thing, and they're both in PRT custody. I feel it's my duty to point out that doing something like this that's backfired spectacularly twice before is quite possibly a very bad idea.”

“No, no, you don't get it.” Hookwolf waved his hands around in excitement. “They didn't know what they were doing. Coil thought she was Hax, and didn't plan for Hax herself to show up. Lung knew she wasn't Hax, but he got blindsided when the Undersiders came into it. So we set a trap for Hax and Über and L33t, and the Undersiders as well. Get rid of all the rats at once.”

Max considered his words. They made sense. In fact, they made a lot of sense. “Are there any other resources they could call on if we did this?” he asked. “I'd hate to get blindsided by something we didn't consider.”

“Max, seriously?” Purity stood up. “I can see Bradley doing something like this, but you and James? I thought you were better than this.” She walked over to stand before his desk, then leaned on it, bringing her face closer to his. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Removing a threat to the Empire,” he replied in a level tone. “The girl herself won't be harmed. Über and L33t on their own aren't a danger to us, but Hax is … a catalyst of some sort. With her ridiculous powerset, she's elevating them a level where the city has begun to take them seriously. And with her most recent comments about the Empire, we need to act. Otherwise, people will start to repeat those jokes about us.” It was a very real danger, he knew. Once the Empire became a laughing-stock, it would take forever to rebuild their reputation as a force to be feared and respected in Brockton Bay.

“I don't see who else they could call on,” Krieg said, his expression serious. “If we discount the heroes, all we really have is the Merchants and Faultline's Crew. Plus a few rogues.” He ticked points off his fingers. “Parian doesn't do heroics. You've got a meeting with Faultline this afternoon. And the Merchants … no, I can't see Hax and her allies even going near Skidmark.”

“Why the hell not?” demanded Hookwolf. “I mean, nobody with half a brain would consider working with the Merchants, but these assholes ripped off Lung, for fuck's sake, That's kinda stupid, right there.” He got up, went over to the desk, and poured some more bourbon into his glass.

“Except that they got away with it,” Max pointed out. “It was only Lung kidnapping the Hebert girl that even got their attention. And they had the wherewithal to set a trap for Lung. No, the reason I think they wouldn't go near the Merchants is that they're not stupid. Also, they're being far more professional than Über and L33t have been in the past. And finally, Skidmark doesn't play well with others, and I doubt Hax is the type to suffer fools gladly.”

“She did team up with Über and L33t,” Krieg pointed out blandly. When Max shot him a sharp glance, he shrugged. “Just playing devil's advocate here.”

“Yes, she did,” Max conceded. “But I'm certain she's also the one who whipped them into shape. In fact, have you heard of L33t having any equipment malfunctions since she joined them? Perhaps she's making him pay attention to detail for once. If she tried anything of the sort with Skidmark …” He let his voice trail off. The less said about the foul-mouthed leader of the Merchants, the better. In fact, the less thought about him, the happier everyone was.

“Perhaps we should be glad she didn't join the Merchants,” Krieg noted after a moment of silent introspection. “If she could have that effect on Über and L33t, imagine the Merchants with an infusion of competence.”

“I'd really rather not, thank you very much.” Max grimaced in distaste. “No, I'm of the strong opinion that even hard pressed, they won't call on the Merchants.” That topic dealt with, he leaned forward. “So, we kidnap her. And then?”

The office door slammed. Max looked up and realised that Purity was no longer in the room. He really couldn't see her problem with the matter. It wasn't as if they were planning to hurt the girl, after all. She was simply the bait in the trap. True, he wouldn't envy her the experience, but she'd have quite a story to tell afterward. Maybe he'd even give her his autograph. Teenagers liked that sort of thing, didn't they?

Hookwolf grinned. “Can I do it? I can make it real loud. Real public. Get Hax's attention for sure.” He cracked his knuckles with a series of metallic pops.

Max frowned. “I think … perhaps not. You have a regrettable tendency toward collateral damage, and we only want to get Hax's attention, not that of the PRT and Protectorate as well. Once we take down Hax, we'll be releasing the child safe and unharmed, to send the message that it was never about her. Killing people in the process of the snatch would … confuse the issue. They've already sentenced you to the Birdcage, remember. We don't want to push matters to the point that they issue a kill order on your name.”

“Besides, given that the Hebert girl's been kidnapped twice already, I would be entirely unsurprised to learn that Hax has some subtle way of keeping track of her,” Krieg remarked. “We can just grab her off the street, or out of her home, and wait for a response. If nothing happens, we post a video challenge online for Hax to respond to. She's already shown a flair for the dramatic; we'll use that against her.”

“I like it.” Max steepled his fingers before him. “However, we're banking on Hax being able to locate the Hebert girl and she's shown the ability to teleport, so we won't hold the girl here. Bradley, I'll leave it to you to find a suitable location that's not linked to Medhall in any way. We won't be doing the snatch immediately; first, we need to prepare the site, and work out mechanical countermeasures to as many of the Undersiders' known powers as we can. And, of course, Hax's teleportation and Brute levels.”

“Meh, I can take her.” Hookwolf snorted in derision. “I watched the video of her in the firefight in Lung's casino. Before she started ramping up, she was feeling the gunshots. If they can make her flinch, I can peel her out of that armour like opening a can of fuckin' sardines.” He popped his knuckles again. “I'll fuckin' rip her to shreds.”

Max nodded. “Just to be sure, I'll have Cricket and Stormtiger on site as well. The three of them may just be good enough to hold you off, but the only one in the city who would've been able to take on all three of you at once is in PRT custody.” His eyes creased as he smiled unpleasantly. “Feel free to make it hurt.”

Hookwolf grinned savagely. “With the greatest of fuckin' pleasure.”

<><>​

Taylor Hebert
Pwnage Base
1535 Hours

L33t looked around from a monitor screen as I pushed open the door to his workshop with my elbow. I wasn't using my hands as I was currently holding a plate of cookies. They were fresh out of the oven, and still warm; I saw him perk up at the delicious odour. “I come bearing a peace offering,” I said. “Sorry for snapping back at you, before.”

“Yeah, sorry for going off the deep end and shouting at you,” he replied, getting up from his chair. “They smell nice.” Reaching out he plucked one off the plate, then eyed it cautiously. “You haven't put laxatives or something in them, have you?”

Rolling my eyes, I put the plate down on the desk, then took a cookie and ate it. “Well, if I did, I'm getting a dose too,” I mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs, then swallowed. “When I say peace offering, I mean peace offering.”

“Okay, I can get that.” He took a bite, and smiled blissfully. “How can you make stuff that's so good?” he asked, after inhaling the rest of the cookie. “I mean, it's just flour and sugar and stuff, right?”

I snorted, but carefully, so I didn't blow crumbs out my nose. “It's all in how you put them together. Like Tinkering, really, except anyone can do it. I could teach you sometime if you want.”

He gave me an evaluating look. “You know, I just might take you up on that sometime, but not right now.” Turning, he sat down at the chair again and pulled his headset mic down next to his mouth. “Okay, how far have we gone?”

Realising he wasn't addressing me, I looked at the screen for the first time. It showed a slightly distorted view of … a living room? “Where's that?” I asked.

“Her house,” he explained succinctly. “Über's parked outside and down the street a ways. He got exact coordinates, and I doorwayed the Snitch inside. Now we're exploring. Looking for the bedroom.”

“Huh, okay,” I said, leaning closer. “Found it yet?”

“No, but we're narrowing it down,” he replied, tapping his pencil on a roughly-drawn house plan. “Just a couple of rooms to go. She apparently likes closing doors.”

“Cool.” I took a cookie from the rapidly-disappearing pile and turned toward the door. “Well, I'll leave you to it. Her left leg should be just about finished printing out by now.”

I wasn't even sure if he'd heard me, because his attention was fixed to the screen once more. As I left, I saw him reach out without looking and snag another cookie.

<><>​

Saturday, February 12, 2011
0030 Hours

I was back in L33t's workshop, this time sitting alongside him. Once again, Über wasn't there. Alibi had spend a pleasant evening with Dad and was now 'asleep' in bed at home. This was going to be her last night as 'herself' for a few days, so I was trying to make it nice for her. I was fully cognizant that she wasn't self-aware, and that I was anthropomorphising her—which wasn't exactly difficult, given how lifelike she was—but I didn't care. She'd saved me from a lot of trouble, so I was going to do my best by her in return.

On the screen before us, static gave way to an image of the same living room as I'd seen earlier that day. This time, the image was low-light, as evidenced by the disproportionate glare produced by the LEDs on electronic equipment. “Okay, I'm in,” Über subvocalised; his voice came out of the speakers clearly. “Heading for her bedroom now.”

“Roger roger,” L33t replied, then shut up. I didn't say a word; the urge to tell Über to be careful was almost overwhelming, but I kept it under control. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't know to be careful.

Über moved through the house like a ghost. The Snitch had searched out what few security systems she'd had inside the house, so he knew to avoid them. I half-expected her to have locked her bedroom door, but the handle turned easily in his hand. Within, the woman we were going to replace lay fast asleep; I found it odd to look at her, given that I was building a duplicate of her in my workroom.

But it wasn't her we were after; not right then, anyway. Über's quarry lay on Ms Grant's nightstand, attached to a charging dock. Her soft almost-snores rolled out of the speakers as he eased up alongside the bed. I found myself holding my breath, as even the slightest disturbance could queer the whole deal. For this to work, nobody could even suspect a thing. Leaning over the night-stand, Über carefully detached the Bluetooth earpiece from the charging dock.

Beep.

I froze in horror, as did L33t. We'd looked up the device she'd been wearing, based on what Über had seen in their brief encounter, and we'd even made up a dummy just in case she got up for a drink of water in the middle of the night … but we hadn't realised it would make a sound when it was disconnected from charge. Ms Grant's breathing changed, and she rolled over toward that side of the bed.

Maybe Velocity could've done what Über did next, but nobody else. Hands moving like lightning, he pulled the duplicate out of his pocket, plugged it in, then dropped flat alongside the bed, all without making a sound. Out of line of sight, we heard a fumbling sound, then a muffled, “Mph.”

It sounded like what someone would say if they'd thought they heard a sound, then found out it was nothing. I hoped she'd go back to sleep. If she got up to go to the bathroom or something …

The bedclothes rustled, but not in that settling-down way. I heard springs creaking, coming closer to Über's position. “Get under the bed!” snapped L33t as he snatched up the control unit for the pocket dimension and started stabbing buttons on it.

Über obeyed; he was halfway under, a couple of bare feet coming down right next to his face, when all of a sudden the image tilted sideways and went to static. I stared at L33t, wide-eyed. “Is he okay?” I asked. At the same moment, I heard a sudden “Ow!” from outside the workshop.

“He'll be fine,” L33t replied with a grin, tapping one more button then putting the remote unit down again. “Might have a sore butt, though.”

Über pushed open the workshop door. Standing in the doorway, he pulled his headset and balaclava off, then gave L33t a glare. “Come out here and I'll give you a sore butt,” he threatened. “I'll kick it from one end of the base to the other. Open a doorway under me, will you? Could've warned me.”

L33t rolled his eyes. “I pull you out of certain discovery and is that the thanks I get? That's gratitude for you.” Swivelling on his chair, he held out his hand. “So, you got it?”

“Of course I got it.” Über marched up to him and slapped the Bluetooth earpiece into his hand. “I do this shit for a living. Now, can you do your shit and set up the brainwave reader in this, so I can get it back to her before she wakes up in the morning?”

Holding up the earpiece, L33t eyed it critically. “We'll just have to see, won't we?”

<><>​

0400 Hours

Bzzt-bzzt. Bzzt-bzzt.

I rolled over in bed and checked the alarm clock, then stretched and yawned. The clock read 10 AM, of course, but that was because I'd had the tau field running at a four to one ratio since two in the morning, ever since L33t realised he'd need more time to build what he needed. Bouncing out of bed, I showered quickly—L33t and I had rigged up a pressure-pump to get over the water pressure problem—and cleaned my teeth before getting dressed.

Pulling a brush through my damp curls, I wandered into L33t's workspace, noting that Über was snoring away on the camp cot in the corner, while L33t seemed to be up and alert. This could probably be attributed to the number of empty coffee cups on the desk next to him. Directly in front of him, of course, was the Bluetooth device.

“How's it going?” I asked him cheerfully. “Wasn't too much of a problem, was it?” I was pretty sure he'd managed it, given his general demeanour of optimism.

“It's done. I was just about to put it back. It sucks that you couldn't help me with it, except by pulling it apart again,” he grumbled. “But I managed it the second time. All we need now is a brain to feed the data to.”

“Coming right up.” The tau field was easy to shut down; now that we were covering the whole base with it, I'd set up each workspace with a dial for the ratio and a big red button to turn it on and off. Slapping the button, I picked up the pocket dimension control unit and punched in a pre-programmed setting. A moment later, I began to receive Alibi's signal again as she stepped through into the base; I'd left her with the instruction to be up at this time and wait for the doorway to appear.

“Hey, Alibi,” L33t said as she appeared at the doorway to the workshop. I was never quite sure whether he was just being a smartass or if he actually considered her to be a person in her own right.

“Hi, L33t,” she responded, as part of her semi-autonomic package. “How's things?”

“Oh, so-so,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“All right, that's just weird and you know it,” I told him sternly. “Stop flirting with my body double, okay?”

“You mean that's not you?” he asked innocently.

I stuck out my tongue at him and took full control of Alibi. She followed me to my workroom, where she obediently lay back on the original rack I'd constructed her on. Once the full shutdown signal was sent, I watched all life drain from her until she was totally inert. Suppressing a shiver, I wondered how many people got to watch their own face do that.

Going around behind her, I sent another signal, this one to the mechanisms that held her body together. When I pressed my thumbs to the back of her neck and pulled apart, a previously-invisible seam appeared and split open, revealing her inner workings. Carefully, I parted the seam all the way around her neck, then undid several catches and pulled out a few plugs. Finally, I took hold of her head and lifted it all the way off.

Once her head was on my workbench, I separated the outer covering from the inner mechanisms and painstakingly lifted her face away, followed by her scalp and the rest of what made her look like me instead of someone else. This all went into a container on my workbench which held a nutrient bath. It wouldn't do to have Alibi's face die before I reattached it to her body, after all.

From a second container, I lifted another face, dripping with an identically-formulated bath. Following a quick towelling down, I fitted the new face and scalp over the mechanical head (and the brain within) but didn't close down the seams immediately.

I'd built the gestalt storage unit several days earlier, in preparation for this moment. Pulling aside a flap of scalp, I plugged it in and pressed the button on the end. LEDs along the side lit up, a row of red lights. One by one they turned green, until the entire row had changed colour. Still, I didn't pull it out until a soft, impersonal voice sounded from the mechanical larynx. “Hello, world.” That was my signal that the entirety of what made up Alibi was stored safely in the gestalt unit, and the 'brain' itself was once more a tabula rasa. Removing the gestalt unit, I dropped it in my top drawer. It wasn't that I'd find it difficult to rebuild the Alibi gestalt if it were erased, but it just didn't feel right to 'kill' her, even if she was never really sapient.

Moving quickly, I sealed down the seams, then carried the head over to the other headless body occupying a rack in my workroom. Building the Kathryn Grant simulacrum had taken up a lot of my time over the last week, and I was justifiably proud of it. Based on data taken from the body scanner Über had been wearing, as well as the DNA and hair sample collected by L33t's mechanical crow, it was as close to her as we could get without actually contacting Blasto in Boston and getting him to clone her for us. And in some ways, my version would work better, given that she'd be Ms Grant in thought and deed … right up until we needed her not to be.

I plugged in the connectors, then snapped the catches shut. Then I carefully sealed down the pseudo-flesh until the seams matched up and bonded back together. Stepping back, I looked her over. Dressed in L33t's old sweats, she looked like she'd just come in from a jog and was taking a quick rest. “Done here!” I called out. “I'll just walk her out into the apartment!”

“One sec!” L33t called back. “One door, coming up!”

Taking control of the Kathryn-duplicate's motor centres, I got her to stand up. The difference between her and Alibi was immediately obvious; whereas Alibi was able to walk and talk without prompting, the K-dup didn't have any of that locked in. Nor would she, until I had a feed coming through from Kathryn's brain. It was imperative, given that she was going to be having conscious and subconscious cues coming through from Ms Grant's mind, that her motor instincts also be pulled from the same brain.

L33t was good as his word; a section of wall was shimmering in a slightly different pattern to the rest it, and I was able to shamble her through into the living room of the apartment we were renting under false identities. I would've preferred to leave her in the base proper, but the pocket dimension didn't allow for signal propagation unless we had an antenna poking out through a hole, as we'd done with Über when he did his recon of the house. With a sigh of relief, I had her flop on to the sofa, then lifted her legs so she was lying more or less naturally. Then I stepped back through the shimmering portal.

“Okay, that's me finished,” I said cheerfully as I leaned in through L33t's workshop door. “Can you do me a favour and portal me home before you crash?”

“Sure,” he groaned as he stood and pressed his hands into the small of his back. Vertebrae cracked and popped, then he yawned capaciously. “This has been one long fucker of a night.”

“Blame the tau field, not me,” I told him mischievously. “Just be glad we got it done. You got the earpiece back in place okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded tiredly. “Retrieved the dummy—which thankfully didn't fucking beep—and put the real one back. Not a worry in the world.” Taking up the control unit, he tapped in the same sequence I'd used before.

I exited the workshop and located the 'doorway', then stepped through into my bedroom. Going from a well-lit area to near-total darkness was a little weird, but not as weird as some of the other stuff I'd been doing. Behind me, the shimmering grey oblong winked out, leaving no evidence that it had ever been there.

The house was dark and silent, with no indication that Dad was even awake, let alone aware that I'd been swapped out with Alibi. But I was still tired. Although I'd had a nice rest, L33t had woken me about two hours in, panicking that he'd messed up the brain wave recorder, so I'd had to get up and disassemble it once more to let him start fresh. Changing into pyjamas—again—I climbed into bed and snuggled down. As comfortable as the bed in the base was, there was still no place like home.

<><>​

Saturday Morning

“So, what are your plans for today?” asked Dad as we cleared the table after breakfast. “I was going to go into the office, but we could have a day together.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless I'm talking to Alibi right now?” His expression said I really hope I'm not talking to Alibi.

“No, you're talking to the real deal.” I grinned at him. “Alibi's … not operational right now. So there's just one of me at the moment.” Testing the running water with my hand, I turned the hot tap down slightly. “And yes, this means that while I'm here, I'm not out there.”

“Not operational?” Dad actually looked a little concerned. “What happened? Did she, uh, it get damaged?” I could see the worries running through his head, wondering what had happening to her that might instead have happened to me.

“No.” I shook my head. “It's just … hm. Difficult to explain. She's undergoing … call it an upgrade.” I certainly didn't want to try to explain the details of her 'upgrade', or the reasons for it. And I definitely didn't want to tell him who we were going to be ripping off.

He dumped the plates in the sink and added detergent. “So does this mean you're free to spend the day with me?” Picking out the first plate, he started scrubbing at it.

I nodded, taking up the tea-towel. “You know, that sounds like a really good idea. I've been concentrating so much on building up our war chest that I haven't had time to be … well, me.” That wasn't exactly the truth; I'd been having a lot of fun finding out what I could do with my powers. Or rather, with everyone else's powers. Of course, I'd been fobbing off being Dad's daughter on to Alibi a lot of the time. And while running Alibi was almost like being there, it wasn't exactly like it.

He smiled down at me and handed the plate over. “Well, I'm looking forward to reconnecting with my daughter the supervillain.”

Laughing, I snapped the towel at him. “Dad!”

<><>​

Saturday Afternoon
Augustus Country Club
Max Anders

The salmon, as always, was exquisite. Max had just finished his course when the phone vibrated in his pocket. This was the phone in his left-hand jacket pocket, the one he used for illicit business. Moving without haste, he fished it out and stood up from the table. Tapping the answer icon, he held it to his ear as he headed for the doors leading out on to the terrace. “Yes?” he asked.

“Found a place we can set it all up.” Hookwolf didn't bother announcing himself. “And I've got people keeping eyes on the Hebert girl. She's spent most of the day out with her father. There was a dozen times and places they could've grabbed her up, no problem. If Hax has a trace on her, it's fuckin' invisible.”

“Assume it exists.” Max strode on to the stone-flagged terrace, nodding to casual acquaintances. A subtle gesture toward the phone at his ear indicated that the call was important, steering people away from him. “Set everything up by invitation only. We don't need unwanted guests crashing the party, after all.”

“Got it. Sure you don't want her grabbed anyway? We can hold her on the quiet till the trap's ready.” Hookwolf sounded eager; perhaps a little too much so. While enthusiasm for the job was a commendable attribute, it was always possible to have too much of a good thing.

“I … think not.” Max considered what to say next. “Neither of the previous attempts toward that particular result turned out well. Best to leave it for when the time is right.”

"If you say so." Hookwolf, predictably, sounded disappointed. "Do I tell my guys to keep eyes on her?"

"Only if their strategy is not discerned." Max knew Hookwolf didn't like the business-related double-talk, but it was an acceptable price to pay for speaking where there might be overly-inquisitive ears. "If it is, they must accept the loss and withdraw from bidding at once."

"She's got no idea." Hookwolf's voice was scornful. "My guys could be waving swastikas and singing the fuckin' Nazi anthem and she still wouldn't have a clue."

<><>​

Taylor

"So what did you think of the movie?" Dad tossed his popcorn box into the trash as we exited the theatre.

I didn't answer for a moment, as I was distracted with counting the number of people who had us under surveillance. Seven, at my best guess, not counting the ones who were waiting in the wings to take over from the ones I could see. I had to congratulate the PRT for thinking outside the box for once; using people pretending to be gang members to shadow me was an inspired move, though it was kind of getting old. Where they got them all from, I had no idea.

"It wasn't bad, though I'm not at all sure where they got their ideas about how powers work, or how villains think," I observed mischievously. The look on his face nearly made me burst out laughing.

"I'd ask you exactly what you mean by that, but I'm worried you might tell me," he said ruefully. Leaning in toward me, he lowered his voice. "But since you brought it up, doesn't it ... you know, worry you? Being ... doing what you do? The possibility of being caught? I'm absolutely certain Armsmaster would love to slap the cuffs on you."

"Yeah, but that's because Armsmaster is a dick," I said blithely. "The man has the sensitivity and empathy of a wet sock, and that's being generous. All he's really interested in is his next headline. Fuck the innocents, fuck anyone who doesn't want to be a good little superhero and follow his orders and, most especially, fuck anyone who stands between him and his moment of glory.” I took a breath to try to tone down the bitterness in my voice. “He would've had me arrested right out of my bedroom if he thought he had half a chance to make anything stick. There's rules about what he did. Okay, so they're not written down anywhere, and the more powerful capes only pay attention to them when it's convenient, but they're still out there. And he came extremely close to the line on that one. Which is why I'm not cutting him any slack.”

“So is that why you decided to … uh, go the way you've been going?” To his credit, Dad seemed to mean the question seriously. “Because a superhero was a dick to you? I think there'd be a lot more villains around, if that was the case.”

I raised an eyebrow as I glanced up at him. “Just think about what you just said for a moment. Then ask yourself what the PRT's doing wrong that lets you justify what you just said.” I heaved a sigh. “No, that's not the reason. It's simple math. We are going to be suing the absolute crap out of Emma—and her dad, if he gets in the way—and for that, we need lots and lots of money. Heroes don't make lots and lots of money, unless they're a top name working for a corporate team. Rogues earn a little more, but even when villain groups aren't trying to press-gang them, they've got to jump through hoops and obey laws that seem deliberately intended to make it difficult for them to get rich easily.” Über and L33t had been quite vociferous on the topic. “There's only one niche that makes money fast enough to be useful to us.” I didn't need to explain which one.

Dad grimaced. “So basically the deck's stacked against capes from the get-go. I knew it was rough, but not that rough.” He gave me a sympathetic glance. “Anyway, you seem to be doing okay.”

I grinned. “Remember Alexandria's visit? That was the deck being re-stacked slightly. I mean, it hasn't been easy, but we've had a few lucky breaks along the way. And we're building a good rep, which means a lot in the business.”

“So I see,” Dad said dryly. “I remember the videos you showed me. It seems to me that Brockton Bay is looking forward to your next exploit, just to see if you can top your last one.” He patted me on the shoulder and offered me a grin. “And I think I might be joining them.”

<><>​

Saturday Evening
Pwnage Base
L33t

The shimmering grey wall of the base parted to reveal Über as he stepped in through from the apartment. “Dinner's nearly ready.”

L33t looked up from the gaming console screen. “Yeah? What're you making?” As a happy side-effect of Hax joining the team, his best buddy was actually doing proper cooking once in a while, which L33t didn't mind in the slightest. Hax still did the best anything, because she actually cared, but Über's cooking was pretty good when he made the effort.

“Oh, I thought I'd try a pot roast.” Über flopped down on the sofa and grabbed his own controller. “Oh, hey, did you sit the duplicate up? This morning she was lying on the sofa in the apartment, but now she's watching TV, or at least looking in that direction.”

L33t's head came up, and he turned to look at Über. “No, man. I didn't touch her. I only went out to go to the bathroom, and I didn't go near her at all. Too much like a dead body for me, you know? Not moving or anything.” He frowned as something else occurred to him. “This isn't some stupid 'gotcha' prank, is it?”

Über shrugged. “Go see for yourself.” He fiddled with the controller and clicked his fire button. L33t flinched as his avatar's head exploded. “Whoops. Should've been watching your back.”

“Asshole.” L33t put the controller down and headed for the shimmering grey portal. Stepping through into the apartment, he looked over at the sofa with its sole occupant. Sure enough, she was sitting upright. He headed in that direction, suspecting it had really been Über who set her up in that position, after all. Leaning closer, he wondered how his buddy had managed to pose her like tha—

“Boo!” Coming suddenly to life, the duplicate spun around to face him and sprang to her feet. She threw her hands in the air, eyes opening wide as she shouted the word.

Of all the things L33t had been expecting, that wasn't it. “Gah!” he screamed, stumbling backward before tripping and falling on his butt. Adrenaline flushing through his system, he scrambled away as the suddenly-animate duplicate … began to laugh. She sounded strange, as if she didn't have much practice, but the mirth was clear on her face. Behind L33t, Über joined in on the laughter, and he realised he'd been the victim of a 'gotcha' prank after all.

Slowly, he climbed to his feet. “That,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster, “Was. Not. Funny.” His heart still racing, he looked at the duplicate of Kathryn Grant, now sitting demurely on the sofa once more. Now that he was thinking clearly, it was obvious Hax was controlling her, but it was hard to keep that in mind while looking at the stranger in the apartment.

“I dunno.” The voice wasn't Taylor's, nor the intonations. However, it couldn't be anyone but her. “It was pretty hilarious from my end. The look on your face was classic.”

“Sorry, dude.” Über slapped him on the shoulder. “We were talking while I was making dinner, and I kinda suggested it. So worth it.” His grin suggested he might not be as sorry as he made out.

L33t gave him the finger, then waved it vaguely around the room to encompass Hax as well. “This better be a damn awesome pot roast.”

“Smells like it,” Hax confirmed. “Serve me up a plate too.” As L33t stared at her, she spread her hands. “What? This body's got to eat, too.”

“I guess.” He watched her get up from the sofa and head for the table, which triggered another memory. “Hey, this morning you were—I mean, that body was all over the place. How come you're walking so smoothly now?”

The smile she shot him was totally unlike Taylor's. “Turns out she works from home on the weekend. That brainwave scanner's had a real workout. If I had to guess, she did a lot of telecommuting while she took care of the housework, worked out for a bit, did some basic martial-arts training and probably went shopping, too. Never took it out once. Workaholic doesn't come close to describing her.”

L33t rolled his eyes, but for a miracle he had the perfect retort. “You should feel right at home, then.”

As Hax gave him a dirty look (it turned out her new body was really good at those), Über laughed so hard he had to sit down.

<><>​

Sunday, February 13, 2011
An Extremely Anonymous Abandoned Warehouse
Somewhere in the Docks
Kaiser

The metal soles of Max's armour clacked against the grimy concrete, the sound echoing faintly from the interior of the building, as he inspected the building Hookwolf had picked out. Random crates lay around near the walls; all of these had already been investigated as a matter of course. The only other thing of note was the preponderance of spiderwebs, but nobody was scared of those. Fenja and Menja were nearby, while at the far end of the warehouse, Hookwolf was directing some of his men in clearing out incidental trash. Victor strolled alongside him, eyeing the building with satisfaction.

Leaning back slightly, Max looked up at the ceiling. By his rough estimate, Fenja and Menja would be able to fit inside at full size, perhaps needing to stoop very slightly. “Here, we have a unique opportunity,” he announced. “Usually when we go into battle, neither side gets to pick the terrain. And even when we outnumber the opposition, it's nearly always impossible to prevent them from retreating and slipping through our fingers. But here and now, we can change all that. If she wants to save the Hebert girl, Hax has to step into the middle of the trap.” He indulged in a moment of quiet self-satisfaction, then turned to Victor. “How many people can she teleport at once?”

“When she dropped Coil off at the PRT building, she was moving herself and three adult men,” Victor replied at once. “Though Coil isn't especially bulky. Also, the time lapse between capturing him and teleporting him into captivity suggests that there's a recharge period needed. So she can only do two at a time, or perhaps three or four without any passengers, before she needs to plug the teleporter in again.”

“Which means she can't just teleport around the field of battle at will. This is borne out by the video of her fight with Lung,” Max mused. He still wasn't quite sure about how she'd managed to turn her power armour into a dragon form, but the process had taken time, which he didn't intend to gift her with. “However, we also have the potential for Über and L33t to interfere, not to mention the Undersiders. How do we reduce the chance of that happening?”

“Presuming her teleporter draws from her power armour battery, she won't be able to fight an extended battle and teleport twice,” Victor posited. “Bringing her compatriots into battle means that she will have to retreat immediately with both of them and the girl if she's to get out at all. And I strongly suspect she won't be able to teleport the Undersiders in at all, especially if Bitch has her fucking monster dogs along.”

Max nodded, appreciating Victor's analysis of the situation. “So what's stopping the monster dogs from just bursting in through the side of the warehouse?” he asked, gesturing at the sheet-metal walls. “That won't be any barrier at all to them.”

“It will if we put up an electric fence,” Victor posited. “Set it up high enough that they can't just jump over it.”

“And they'll barrel straight through it,” Hookwolf interjected, striding over to join them. “I've seen those fuckers take bullets to the face. A little electricity ain't gonna faze them.”

“Not if we draw power straight from the mains,” Victor said with a grin. “It might not affect the dogs, but it'll sure as hell give the riders something to worry about.”

Max nodded slowly. “That might take a day or two to set up, but it's doable,” he decided. “Right then; how do we make sure Hax doesn't just jump in, grab the girl and jump out again?” Because that was the irritating part of working against a teleporter; they could essentially ignore any number of carefully planned traps and defences. Coil had found that out the hard way.

“A teleport blocker would be the easiest way,” Victor mused. “But we'd still have to source one, and while rumour has it Oni Lee was killed when his teleport was blocked, it was probably Hax or L33t who had the blocker at the time. And we can't very well ask them to teleport in then block their own teleporter.”

Max had to smile at the ridiculous image that produced. “No, we can't.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked around for inspiration. If they couldn't devise a way to nullify the advantage afforded by Hax's teleporter, the trap would no longer be a trap, and the next transmission by Über, L33t and Hax would be … scathing.

“Hah!” Hookwolf's outburst was triumphant. “I got it!”

Turning to look at the burly cage fighter, Max saw that he was looking at where Jessica and Nessa were looking up at the ceiling as he had before, and discussing something between themselves; the twins were no doubt figuring out how high they could grow before the ceiling impeded their movement. “If you have something, perhaps you could share it with us?” he suggested.

“Two of them,” Hookwolf said obscurely. “The Hebert girl and someone who can pass for her. We set up two cages and wire them up to zap anyone touching them. A girl in each cage. Maybe bags over their heads. There's gotta be more than one skinny girl in Brockton Bay.”

Max didn't need any more than that; the plan was complete in his mind. When Hax teleported in, she would be faced with not one but two potential Taylor Heberts. The cages being electrified would hopefully prevent her from just tearing her way in, so she'd have to teleport into each cage in turn, in order to rescue the prisoner within. Which meant that one teleport later, her armour would be low on power and she'd have to fight her way out. It was a no-win situation. Or, for Max, a no-lose situation.

“I like it,” he said. “Make it happen.” He paused, then decided that what he had in mind had to be said. “And Hookwolf?”

“Yeah?” Bradley's greasy hair swung as the iron wolf mask turned toward him.

“When you find the right girl to play the part, lead with an offer of money. Ten thousand should be about right. If she can play the part convincingly, it'll be worth the cost.” Some supervillains would make the promise and then kill the minion afterward, but Max was a pragmatist. The Empire paid its debts. To everyone.

Of course, he strongly suspected the fight itself would be an anticlimax. After all, what could one irritating Tinker/Brute in a set of power armour do against the might of the Empire?

<><>​

Monday, February 14, 2011
Winslow High
Taylor

It felt weird attending Winslow in my own skin for once. As I'd noted with Dad, sending Alibi in my place was almost, but not exactly, like being there myself. Of course, Alibi hadn't been idle in my absence; not only had she/I achieved a few quite satisfying moments of (entirely vindicated) revenge, but she/I had also managed to get Emma and Madison in trouble with the Winslow administration. To which my unspoken thought was simply About damn time.

Although it had been a month since that went down, Emma and her friends still had a month to go on their in-school suspension. It would've been totally petty of me to enjoy her predicament more than just a little. Of course, I was a teenager and an up-and-coming supervillain, so I figured I had a ready-made excuse for being as petty as hell. Not that Emma meant all that much to me any more—my life plan only included her as a rapidly diminishing image in the rear-view mirror—but it was extremely satisfying to see her get at least part of the comeuppance she was due.

At least, that was what I thought until I reached Winslow itself. The first odd thing I saw was the occasional heart decorating a classroom door and bulletin board—ah, right, it's Valentine's Day—and the second thing was Emma herself, walking down the corridor as if nothing had happened, with Madison flanking her on one side and Julia on the other. The only one missing was Sophia; while I didn't know exactly where she was, I had a strong idea that it wasn't someplace fun. Which I was perfectly okay with.

Of course, right now, I was faced with a problem right in front of me. Emma saw me a moment after I saw her, and she veered over in my direction. With the skills I'd picked up from Über's power, I was reasonably certain about my chances in a physical confrontation. What I wasn't sure about was the reason for Emma's current show of confidence.

“Hi, Taylor,” she said; I didn't need the extra skills in body language to detect the malevolence behind the false cheer. “Fancy seeing you here.” She didn't say any more, probably because we both saw Mr Gladly coming our way. After a month, I suspected his level of vigilance was probably back to its normal level of incompetence, but I was pretty sure Emma didn't know that for certain. Which raised another question.

“What are you doing out of suspension?” I asked bluntly. “Pretty sure it was due to run till this time in March.” But even as I asked the question, I had a premonition about the answer. Her dad the fucking lawyer.

“Oh, Dad took me to see the school board and waved a bit of lawyer talk around,” Emma said blithely. Mentally, I assigned my premonition a passing mark. “I batted my eyelashes and assured them that I'd seen the error of my ways and I'd been adequately punished. Principal Blackwell was there too. So me and Jules and Mads are free to resume our academic studies again.” She gave me a brilliant smile. I wanted to punch it. “So we get to see each other in class again. Isn't that nice?”

I looked her in the eye. “I've got exactly three things to say to you. One: stay out of my way. Two: I don't know what legal bullshit your dad pulled to get you out of suspension, but there's no way in hell Sophia's ever coming back. So there goes your backup.” I leaned close. “And three: stay out of my fucking way.”

Tempting as it was to shoulder-check her out of the way as I went past, I refrained from the impulse. No sense in getting myself in trouble, after all. As I stalked away, I heard her sputter in indignation. “You can't talk to me like that! She can't talk to me like that, can she?”

By the time someone answered her, I was too far away to hear what it was. Nor, for that matter, did I care all that much. With any luck, she'd get the message. Or, if she didn't, I'd kick her ass. When it came to Emma Barnes, I was all out of patience.

<><>​

Tuesday Afternoon, February 15, 2011
Emma Barnes

Emma leaned back in the bus seat and stared out the window. Getting out of in-school suspension a month early was awesome, but it was balanced by the frustration of seeing Taylor on and off most of the day in Winslow and not being able to pick at her, or even demand to know what she knew about Sophia. Because it was obvious Taylor knew something. They'd both been taken away by the PRT after the locker thing, and only Taylor had come back.

Taylor had powers; Emma knew that much. But a very serious PRT officer had spoken to her and the others, and she'd signed forms that promised she'd never say a word to anyone about what she'd seen and what she knew. She guessed this was because they wanted to recruit Taylor for themselves though she hadn't seen an announcement for any new Wards, so it looked like she'd managed to fuck that opportunity up as well. Still, the NDA didn't have any loopholes to allow her to talk about stuff even after the PRT screwed up their recruitment pitch, so she followed her dad's advice and kept quiet about it.

Since Sophia had gone, there'd been the crackdown on picking on Taylor in general, then Emma had been caught tormenting her in the bathroom along with the others by Mrs Knott. She still couldn't believe Taylor had set that whole thing up. It was totally unlike her. Taylor didn't seem to give a shit any more about what Emma and the others could do to her. Though, and this was painful to admit, their ability to do stuff and get away with it was a lot less effective than it used to be. And it's all Taylor's fault.

Of course, now that school was over for the day, it was time for some retail therapy in the Market, then hanging out on the Boardwalk till it was time to go home. Maybe then she could put Taylor out of her head.

“Holy shit, there she is!” Madison's exclamation made Emma's head turn. The petite brunette was right on the money; strolling down the footpath in the direction of the Boardwalk was Hebert herself. She was wearing a belly-tee and jeans, and oversized sunglasses on top of her regular glasses, which was why Emma hadn't spotted her at first. But it was Taylor all right, and the bus was just pulling into the next stop. Perfect. “Come on,” she said, jumping to her feet. “No teachers around now! Let's go fuck her day up.”

As she made her way off the bus, she didn't even stop to wonder what Taylor was doing down near the Boardwalk.

<><>​

Boardwalk
Taylor

It was odd, controlling the duplicate we'd made of Kathryn Grant. Running Alibi was like being in a second skin, but when I sent the duplicate an impulse to do something, she did it differently to the way I'd been expecting. For the most part I wasn't pushing her to do anything, just letting the real Kathryn operate her on autopilot.

Kathryn Grant was lying at home in bed. On Monday night, Über had doorwayed into her bedroom and retrieved her Bluetooth device, using the low-tech expedient of cotton wool to muffle the telltale beep. I'd removed the brainwave scanner and built in a signal booster and a scanner of a different type. In the meantime, L33t had rebuilt the brainwave scanner into a control strip, not unlike the one I'd originally worn to control Alibi. The difference was that this one also kept the wearer in deep REM sleep. On his return, Über had applied the strip to the back of Kathryn's neck. For a moment, she'd almost awoken, giving us all a bad moment. But then the soporific effect of the strip took effect and she'd settled down into a deep slumber.

The next one through the portal into Kathryn's house was the duplicate. She/I had sat patiently, waiting until Kathryn's alarm went off, whereupon she/I went through the real Kathryn's daily ritual. Über had decamped by then; it was up to me, observing from afar, to make sure nothing went wrong.

And nothing had. 'Kathryn' had driven her own car to work, obeying all road rules. She/I flashed her badge to the security guard on the entrance of the undercover parking lot and parked in the correct spot. Going upstairs, she/I greeted her boss and—for three heart-stopping minutes—shared an elevator with him and Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown.

For most of the workday, I hadn't changed anything she was about to do, right up until the email Über had doctored arrived in her inbox. I nudged her to read it, and she did, then frowned. The email was a fake, but it had been spoofed to appear to arrive from a very real address. The topic was about bits and pieces of Endbringer that had been secured by the PRT. It referenced an ongoing discussion on the PHO boards, which had been raging for nearly a week, where private collectors were allegedly claiming that some of their pieces had begun to evaporate or otherwise disappear.

Printing out the email, she hand-carried it into her boss's office; Deputy Director West. “Sir,” she/I said. “Have you seen this?”

Frowning in his turn, he adjusted his reading glasses and scanned the email. “I believe I saw it show up,” he said. “I doubt that it's anything.” I adjusted the duplicate's body language to indicate disagreement, but didn't say anything. He looked keenly up at her/me. “Do you have some reason to believe otherwise?”

“Normally I wouldn't think so,” she/I said carefully. “But there's been some talk on the PHO boards about this over the last few days. It might not be a bad idea to do an eyeball check. Just to be certain.” She/I gave a light shrug. “It'll take me five minutes. I'll get coffee on the way back.”

For a long moment, he looked at 'Kathryn'. “Okay,” he said. “I'll send word that you're on your way down.”

“Thank you, sir.” She/I let out a small sigh. “It's probably nothing, as per usual. But I think it's a good idea to check anyway.”

He chuckled and agreed. As she/I left the office, he was picking up the phone. This was the crisis point; if he thought her request was at all unusual, he might just be calling for Master/Stranger protocols on Kathryn Grant. I'd only find out when she/I got there.

By the time 'Kathryn' made it down to the ultra-secure vault, I'd gotten off the bus from school and was heading down to the Boardwalk. As I was doing everything remotely, I didn't need to be at the base, and being out in the open while a heist was taking place hundreds of miles away appealed to my sense of humour. Especially as my pseudo-gang shadows were out in force today. They needed work on their tradecraft, but I supposed I shouldn't really complain that the PRT was so bad at covert surveillance. What did they think I was going to do down at the Boardwalk anyway, whip my stun rifle out of my back pocket and hold up Fugly Bob's?

It seemed that Deputy Director West had believed the story, because when 'Kathryn' showed her badge to the guards at the vault, they let her through. This wasn't the end of the story, of course; over the next few minutes, they pushed the ability of my tech to appear as human to its very limit. Fingerprints, retina scans and even a voice print were all taken. I'd planned for all this, of course, but it was still just a little nerve-wracking. Especially as the signal wasn't the best from the vault, but I'd planned for this; it was the work of a moment to send the signal to step up the gain.

That was when the hand fell on my shoulder.

<><>​

Emma

Taylor didn't seem to notice them as she wandered across the street and on to the Boardwalk proper, ending up leaning on the rail and looking out at the Rig. Holding her finger to her lips to warn everyone to be quiet, Emma sneaked up behind her and slapped a hand down on her shoulder.

“Shit!” Taylor turned fast, one hand knocking Emma's from her shoulder and the other coming up in some kind of martial-arts stance. A moment later, her expression turned from alarm to irritation. “Emma, for fuck's sake. Fuck off; I've got nothing to say to you.”

What's she worried about? Emma decided to push a little. “That's funny. You had plenty to say at school. What's the matter, worried that the teachers can't watch your back now?”

Taylor took a step toward Emma. “I don't need the teachers to watch my back, here or at Winslow. I'm gonna give you one warning. Fuck off. I'm busy, and I don't need you in my life or in my face.”

“Busy?” jibed Madison. “What are you so busy doing? All I can see is someone who's gonna spend the rest of her life doing nothing. Just like you're doing now.”

The expression of irritation deepened, but Taylor didn't say or do anything for a moment. Emma looked at her, wondering what was going on. “Are you spacing out on me? Jeez, Taylor, are you high or something?” There was no response, except that Taylor seemed to be counting under her breath. Emma reached out toward the sunglasses.

She didn't even see Taylor's hand move, but her wrist was suddenly gripped more tightly than she'd remembered Taylor being able to squeeze. “Back. The fuck. Off.” Taylor's voice was low and controlled. “Now.”

<><>​

Taylor

Emma and her stooges showed up at exactly the wrong moment. I managed to get 'Kathryn' into the vault, but the signal was skipping in and out, and I didn't know how high I could boost the signal on the Bluetooth device without burning it out altogether. While I was trying to concentrate on the incoming data from the K-dup, I was also having to deal with the ongoing confrontation. This was definitely not like running Alibi; with her, I could've danced a jig while kicking Emma's ass with one hand tied behind my back. As it was, I could only spare minimal attention toward Emma.

But there she/I was, in the supermax vault. There was a guard at the door, whose entire job was to make sure that I didn't have a heart attack or otherwise die in his domain.

'Kathryn' approached the three rows of drawers holding the most painfully-won substance in the known world. Every chunk of Endbringer had been earned at the price of the lives of dozens, if not hundreds, of capes and civilians. If lives lost bestowed value, then these pieces of oddly-textured matter were more precious than gold or gemstones.

I ignored Emma and her cronies for a moment as 'Kathryn' waved her access pass over the reader on the front of the first drawer. It beeped agreeably and slid open, revealing a few silvery chunks of Behemoth. The label next to them indicated that they massed a total of six pounds. I needed more.

Closing the drawer, I selected the next one over. It also beeped, just as the phone in the duplicate's pocket vibrated. The drawer slid open, and she/I saw a fourteen-pound chunk of Behemoth.

Pulling the phone out, she/I tapped the answer icon. “Grant.”

“Ms Grant, the tech boys just contacted me.” It was West. “There's some sort of weird interference emanating from that area that they can't pin down. I'm going to need you to get out of there right now.”

“Yes, sir,” was her automatic response. “Right away.” But she/I didn't move, apart from ending the call. Instead, she/I touched the Bluetooth device on a spot where there shouldn't have been a button. “One,” she/I said softly, sending exact 3-D coordinates through to L33t.

“Excuse me, ma'am,” the guard said, advancing into the vault. “You're going to have to leave. We have a security issue.”

“One moment, soldier,” she/I said, drawing on every iota of command voice we shared. “Almost done here.” The card swiped over two more drawers; one for Leviathan, one for the Simurgh. My guess had been correct; each one held enough for my needs. “Two,” she/I said. “Three.”

“Ma'am!” The guard came right up to me and took hold of my arm. I knew quite well that he was about to use force to make me leave. I was going to leave, all right, but not the way he intended.

Kathryn Grant was trained in martial arts, but not to the degree that I'd gotten to using Über's power. I overrode her instincts and training and broke the grip, then dropped the guard on the ground. There was a shout of alarm from the doorway to the vault, but I was already reaching for the Bluetooth device. Squeezing the button as hard as I could, I shouted, “Now!”

An instant later, alarms sounded, deafeningly loud. The last thing I saw as the floor dropped out from under me was yellow containment foam billowing down to descend upon the hapless guard.

<><>​

Emma

Just as Taylor snapped the word “Now,” it was echoed from all around. Hands roughly grabbed Emma and pulled her arms behind her back. Frightened screams told her that Madison and Julia had been similarly grappled. Looking around, she realised that her captors were wearing Empire colours, with basic cloth masks pulled over their faces.

“What the fuck?” Taylor, despite being similarly held, looked far more annoyed than frightened. “Can't you PRT idiots leave me alone for one fucking day? I keep telling you, I've got nothing to do with Hax.”

“That's for Kaiser to decide.” A new voice intruded on the situation. Emma turned her face to see a face she knew from the news. Victor. Oh, shit. It's Victor. “So you're coming with us. Easy or hard, your choice.”

Expressions flickered over Taylor's face, faster than Emma could follow. Finally, she settled on one that Emma had only been starting to see again recently. Determination.

“Okay,” replied the tall brunette. “I'll come easy. But the others have got nothing to do with this. Leave them out of it.”

“I dunno.” Victor turned to look at Emma, and she imagined his gaze flaying the flesh from her bones. At the same time, she felt an intense rush of gratitude toward Taylor. Oh, yes, I'm not important. Please, believe her.

<><>​

Taylor

Victor was playing with me. I knew it, and he knew it, but Emma didn't. She quailed under his look until he finally nodded. “Fine. Leave the spares. Just bring the Hebert girl.” Turning back toward me, he gave me a hard look. “Just remember, you said you'd come easy. No fucking around.”

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound like I was attempting to be brave. “What am I gonna do?” My light-spot had already settled on to him and I was taking in its commentary on his powers. “I know why you want me, but I've got nothing to give you.” He had a lot of skills from a lot of different people, it felt. I began to leach them away, starting with his habits of caution. If I could get him monologuing, I figured I could learn a lot.

“Like I said, that's for Kaiser to decide.” He gestured toward the road, where three trucks were just pulling up. “Your ride's here.” I didn't struggle and didn't argue; anything I intended to do would have to wait till there were no innocent bystanders around. So, in the middle of a bunch of Empire goons—and boy, was I pissed at myself for not spotting that earlier—I headed over toward the middle truck and climbed into the back. There were seats inside, running down each side of the truck. Without being told, I moved up toward the front and took a seat.

“So what happens now?” I asked as Victor seated himself beside me. He didn't move to secure me, which could've been his lack of caution showing, or just basic confidence that he could restrain me if I acted out.

“What happens now is that we move you to an undisclosed location and wait for Hax to show up to rescue you,” he said cheerfully. “See, when she arrives, the whole Empire's gonna be waiting on her, so we can teach her a lesson about disrespecting us.” Leaning back, he stretched. “It's gonna be fun.”

I let my head hang forward, so that my hair concealed the thoroughly evil grin that crossed my face.

Oh, you've got no idea.



End of Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One