Trump Card (Worm AU) [Complete]

Trump Card

Part Sixteen: Combat Rescue


I burst back into Über and L33t's base, moving so fast that I literally skidded to a halt, sliding over the concrete flooring to end up behind the sofa they used as a gaming centre. Both of the guys were sitting, playing the shooter that they'd been involved in when I left. Über paused the game and turned to look at me.

“Hey, Alibi,” he greeted me. “Cool entrance. You got here quicker than I thought.”

I shook my head, trying to catch my breath. “Not Alibi,” I gasped. “Me. Hax. I have a problem.”

L33t looked around at that. “What problem?” he asked sharply.

I took a deep breath. “Alibi's been abducted.”

Über blinked. “Oh, shit,” he muttered.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” agreed L33t. “There goes our four-player game nights.”

Über elbowed him in the ribs. “Dude. Alibi's almost the same as Hax. Have some respect.”

“Guys,” I managed. “I want to rescue her before someone pulls her apart and discovers she's not human. Can you help me out here?”

“Sure,” Über stated at once. “You're a part of the team. Of course we'll help rescue her.”

“Definitely,” L33t chimed in a moment later. “Otherwise, who'll cook for us when you're out?”

Again, Über elbowed him in the ribs. “Dude. Not cool.”

L33t sighed. “I'm just kidding. Jeez, you want to grow a sense of humour sometime.” He turned to me. “We're on it. What do you need?”

I leaned on the back of the couch. “We can't mount a rescue operation until they stop moving her. And until I find out who took her. Once I find that out, I intend to go there and get her back. By whatever means necessary.” I showed my teeth in what might have been a grin. “So I'm gonna need your workshop. And your help.”

L33t rubbed his hands together, looking altogether too gleeful. “All righty then.” He jumped up off the sofa and headed for his workshop.

Über looked mildly concerned. “Is it all right for me to feel just a little pity for whatever poor bastard took Alibi?”

“Sure,” I agreed. “So long as it doesn't get in the way of helping me kick their asses into next Tuesday.”

He cracked his knuckles. “Don't worry. Multi-tasking is a skill I perfected years ago.”

“Good,” I told him. “Now, I'm going to need you to do some stuff for me.”

A brisk nod. “Name it.”

I ticked off on my fingers. “I'll be writing up a list of stuff I need from the shop, asap.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I can do that.”

“Also, we're gonna be Tinkering full bore. So anything that needs to be fetched, grabbed or moved, we'll probably be calling on you.”

He nodded again. “Sure thing.”

“Also, make sure dinner doesn't burn,” I concluded.

He blinked. “That ... doesn't sound very heroic?”

I gave him a steady look. “Do you want to explain to L33t why his dinner was spoiled?”

A look of consternation crossed his face. “Ah. Point. Right, got it.” L33t was known to wax lyrical about my cooking.

“Thanks. You're the best.” I gave him a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder, and went to grab the stack of plans that L33t had given me.

By the time I got back to L33t's workshop, he had the power tools warmed up, ready for use. “Okay, Hax,” he declared. “What do we do first?”

I laid the plans out on the workbench. “We've got a fairly narrow window here, so we need to combine our capabilities. At the same time, I don't want to make you use up your capabilities unnecessarily. So I'll be getting you to make the parts, while I assemble them.” I jabbed my finger at the paper. “We'll start with this one here … “

<><>​

A Little Earlier

She/I lolled bonelessly on the bus seat. The teenager shook her/my shoulder. “Shit,” he muttered. “That dose shouldn't have put her all the way out.”

If he abandoned the attempt now, if he just got up and left the bus, that would leave me ignorant of who was attempting to kidnap her/me. So I had her/me stir a little, letting out a slight murmur as she/I did so.

“Oh, thank god.” The relief in his tone was palpable. “Right, then. Let's see if I can't pull this off.”

And to my surprise, I felt my own leg twitch ever so slightly, while her/my leg twitched somewhat more substantially.

“Wow, it really hit her hard,” he muttered to himself. “I should get more of a reaction than that.”

There was another twitch, which I was able to override in my own body, while Alibi's body responded. I felt, however, that I could override that as well, if I needed to.

He's a cape, I belatedly realised. He can control people via their nervous systems. I had built Alibi's nervous system to mimic a normal human's, as much as possible, with the 'autopilot' in the simple brain of the body double handling basic things like walking and balancing. It seemed that I had done such a good job that he was able to tap into Alibi's body, and even send a little feedback through the link with me. Although the signal was so attenuated by the time it reached my body that I was easily able to ignore it.

The bus drew to a halt at the next stop. The teenager sat her/me up, and then sent controlling impulses through her/my arms and legs to follow him out of his seat. He was a little clumsy about it, and I was somewhat tempted to take over and show him how a puppet should be guided. However, I strongly suspected that this would blow the whole deal. As would kicking this joker's ass up and down the bus, as much as I might want to.

She/I stumbled off the bus, with him right alongside her/me, ready to lend a steadying hand. One woman looked across at us, and she/I saw a look of concern cross her face. But then the boy said out loud, "Come on, let's get you home before Mom finds out you've been drinking." The woman's face closed down, and she looked away from us; on the one hand I was vaguely relieved, but on the other, I was irritated that she hadn't done more to make sure that she/I was all right.

Behind us, the bus pulled away from the stop. I debated my next move; did I wait to see what happened next, or did I grab the kid and squeeze him for information, and risk blowing my cover? My real body was on another bus, heading the other direction, but I was too far away to intervene, which would carry a whole series of risks in itself anyway. My best bet was to change buses and get back to Über and L33t at the first opportunity.

<><>​

" ... so while I was on the way back here, the kid walked Alibi to a car, where this other guy gave her a face full of chloroform on a rag," I related, while easing two parts into alignment. They fitted, and I picked up the soldering iron. A click on my goggles darkened the lenses slightly; another click zoomed the magnification in. "At least, I think it was chloroform; it smelled horrible."

"Probably chloroform, then," agreed L33t, as he watched me join the two pieces. "So what happened then?"

"Don't know what happened to the boy," I told him as I finished soldering. "But she was blindfolded, gagged, her hands zip-tied behind her, and she was shoved into the back of a van. At least, I assume it's a van. Feels right, sounds right."

L33t was looking at the plans; as he started in on the next component, Über hustled in with two heavily laden bags. “Got the stuff you wanted,” he panted, putting the bags down. “'Scuse.”

He hustled out again; I spent a moment putting the light-spot on him, and noted that he was heading for the kitchenette. Flicking the spot back to L33t, I nodded to him. “Dinner will be ready soon,” I noted.

“We're going to take time to eat?” he asked. “Alibi could be anywhere by now.”

I shook my head., and pointed. “I know exactly where she is. Just pulling into what's probably some sort of underground parking garage, about three miles that way.”

“What the hell? How do you know that?”

With a smile, I tapped the back of my neck. “My control device gives me precise range and bearing.”

He rolled his eyes and grinned. “Should have known. Typical Hax.” He paused. “So, gotta ask. Is this another ninja op, or do we actually get to costume up?”

I smiled, or at least showed my teeth. “Yes and no. Costume, yes. Not from a classic video game, sorry.”

L33t looked at me suspiciously. “You're going to pull something, aren't you? And it's either going to be hilarious, fantastic or horrific, and I can't tell which one.”

I sighed. “Well, I guess I should tell you sooner rather than later.”

So I told him what I had planned. As I spoke, his jaw dropped further and further.

<><>​

“Now hear this. Now hear this. This base is under Master/Stranger protocols as of this moment. If anyone around you appears to be acting oddly, report it immediately. I repeat, Master/Stranger protocols are in effect.”

Coil turned off the microphone and leaned back in his chair. Then he leaned forward again and pressed a sequence of keys on his keyboard. A banner began scrolling across the bottom of the computer screen: IF I DO NOT ENTER A CODE SEQUENCE EVERY FIVE MINUTES, THIS BASE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT.

He had no evidence, of course, that the Hebert girl had acquired Regent's powers during her brief contact with him, or that she retained powers after she left the presence of the cape in question. However, he had not gotten to where he was now by leaving anything whatsoever to chance.

In the other timeline, the kidnap had not happened at all; he had called Regent earlier and told him to forego the mission. The money would still go into his account, of course; the boy was a sociopath, but a useful sociopath. Until he stopped being useful, in which case he would be either dealt with or discarded, whichever was more expedient. Coil allowed himself a brief smile; he had discarded more than one ex-asset over the years, and sometimes the process had been … fun.

In any case, Regent had been ordered to return to his comrades, not much the wiser as to what had just happened. He had assisted in the kidnapping of a teenage girl, but he knew little more than that. Nor would he talk about it to the others; he had been paid, and that was all he cared about.

The Hebert girl would stay in his base until such time as he deemed it safe to continue; as it was Friday, her father might well assume that she was choosing to stay out late. As the girl had no mobile on her – that was one of the first things that his men had checked – there was no way he could call her up. So it would be Saturday morning at least before he really started getting worried. By which time, Coil would have what he wanted, or Taylor Hebert would be dead.

He watched the image on the screen as the carefully-chosen guards placed her into the cell. One of them peeled back an eyelid and checked her pupil response, then felt for a pulse.

“Pupil reflex is normal, pulse is normal,” he reported out loud.

Coil did not answer; the guards, as previously ordered, exited the cell and closed the door behind them. He watched her as she slept, lying carelessly across the padded floor of the cell. Momentarily, he almost hoped that she would prove to be useless to his needs; he had not inflicted true death on someone in quite some time, as opposed to the false death where he killed them in another timeline, and he felt the need once more. Still, once he was free to split the timelines once more, he could indulge himself in the timeline where he didn't have to be nice to her.

He settled down to wait, the warning still scrolling across the foot of his computer screen. He had spent years getting to this point; a little impatience could ruin years of work. A powerful Trump, under his control, could do so much for him …

<><>​

Taylor should have been home by now.

Danny Hebert knew the bus schedules fairly well by now, and was aware that the bus from Winslow dropped off in time for Taylor to be home well before dark. It was edging to early evening now, with the sun low in the sky, and she still wasn't home. No twanging as she opened the wire gate at the side of the house, no step on the back porch, no click of the key in the lock.

He knew that the police required twenty-four hours of absence before they regarded a person as missing; a teenager, only a couple of hours late, on a Friday afternoon, it not even being dark yet, they would consider simply not worth their time.

And it may well be nothing whatsoever. There was the other thing she had been doing, staying out long hours without much in the way of explanation. The night she had, he was convinced, sneaked out and helped perform some bizarre robbery, arriving home literally seconds before the PRT pushed their way through the front door.

She had said she was done with that, and she had seemed to be true to her word, staying home every night, helping with the chores, as happy and cheerful as he had seen her, even after the trouble at school. And she had been going to school, too. Things had been settling down, after the locker incident, and they had been growing closer again.

Which made this unexplained absence all the more unusual.

Finally, he could not stand it any more. Getting off the sofa, he went to the kitchen to check on the lasagne he had cooking, then picked up the phone. To get the number, he pulled a card out of his wallet. He dialled the digits, one by one.

<><>​

Director Piggot's desk phone rang. She checked the caller ID, and frowned. Why is he calling me?

Taking a breath, she picked up the receiver. “Parahuman Response Teams, Director Piggot speaking.”

“Ah, hi, this is Danny Hebert. I'm the father of Taylor Hebert, the girl -”

“I'm well aware of who you are, and who your daughter is, Mr Hebert,” she replied crisply. “May I ask how you got this number?”

“Armsmaster gave it to me, when we last spoke,” Hebert replied just as crisply. “You may recall the occasion, when your men forced their way illegally into my house and terrorised my teenage daughter with loaded automatic rifles.”

Piggot gritted her teeth. “I recall,” she replied curtly. “Get to the point, sir. Why are you calling me, now?”

“To ask you one simple question,” he replied. “Have you had Taylor picked up? Because if you have, and it's not for anything you can prove, I will -”

“Wait a minute,” she protested. “Your daughter is missing?”

“I wouldn't say 'missing', exactly,” he responded. “But she's normally home at this time. She doesn't usually stay out, even on a Friday evening. I trust her not to do something stupid, but I was worried that someone else might have done it instead.”

Meaning us, Piggot noted, reading his meaning loud and clear. “No, sir,” she replied instead. “I have given no orders to that effect. I can ask my on-duty officers if they have done or seen anything of note regarding her, but as nothing regarding that has come across my desk in the last hour, I believe the answer is no.”

“Can you check anyway?” asked Danny.

“I will do that immediately,” Emily replied. “I won't keep you waiting on the line; if I do not call you back, it will mean that there's no news on my end.”

“Thank you,” Danny replied. Without further ado, he hung up; the click was loud in her ear.

She hung up the phone, then took out her mobile and checked the duty roster for those PRT officers in charge of squads, currently on duty. Calvert, of course, while a squad leader, was off duty and was therefore not contacted.

To each of those that she contacted, she sent a brief text asking if they had picked up a teenage girl of any description, or seen any incident regarding one, in the last couple of hours. After sending the text, she opened up the PRT internal email server. She had just begun to compose the mail when the first return text chimed in her mobile.

Snatching it up, she read the text. The answer was 'no'. As was the next, and the next, and the next. One by one, all squad leaders reported in, stating that they had had no significant contact with any teenage girls on their patrols.

That was good news, Piggot decided, but only after a fashion. If Taylor Hebert had disappeared on the way home from school, and the PRT wasn't responsible, then who was? Worse, who would be held responsible? She had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly what the answer to that one was. And that the person in question was the one that she looked at in the mirror every morning.

She finished typing up the email, triple-checked the wording and the address to which it was being sent, and clicked the appropriate button. The computer beeped, indicating that the message had been cast into the electronic ether, to fetch up, like unto a message in a bottle, upon a distant metaphorical shore. Though with rather more accuracy than those hopeful messages of days gone past.

<><>​

Alexandria's phone beeped, and she slowed down long enough to pull it from its reinforced pouch. Normally she kept it set to only accept the most urgent of messages, and she was curious as to what achieved that status on a Friday evening.

It was an email message, sent from Emily Piggot; the tagline got her immediate and full attention.

Taylor Hebert missing.

It took just a few seconds for her to read the body of the message, which spelled out in rather more detail what she already knew; it was only a couple of hours, her father reported it, Piggot had not ordered it, she had checked with her squad leaders, the usual. In her mind, it boiled down to “She's missing, we didn't do it, help!”

Well, she mused, at least she's proven that she can learn.

“Door to Contessa.” Her voice was calm and unworried. If anyone can fix this, it's Contessa.

Without fuss, the doorway unfolded before her, and she stepped on to the white sterile tiles of Cauldron's base. Behind her, the door closed once more.

She took three steps, then noted that the doorway to her left – a real doorway, in this instance – was open, and she could hear the rattle of someone using a computer keyboard with some intensity. Peering in, she saw Contessa herself, wearing her trademark suit, leaning back with a wireless keyboard on her knees, staring at the wall-sized screen before her. She wasn't even watching as she typed, but then, she didn't have to. Her power guided each and every keystroke as if she had been training all her life to do just this job. Lines of code streamed across the screen.

Rebecca found herself envying Contessa just for a moment; to be always sure of exactly how to carry out a mission, to know every step far in advance, how useful and comforting it must be. But then, on the other hand, to be always faced with the knowledge of how many steps there were to go until Cauldron's ultimate goal was realised. If it were ever to be realised.

No, I believe I would choose to live in ignorance.

Stepping into the room, she cleared her throat. “Contessa,” she stated. “We have a problem.”

“No, we don't.”

The rebuttal, so clearly and concisely spoken, took her aback. “I don't know if you consider it a problem or not, but -”

“You believe that Taylor Hebert has gone missing,” Contessa did not look around from the screen. “Your assumption is incorrect. Emily Piggot is working from false data. Taylor Hebert has not gone missing.”

Alexandria was used to being the smart person in the room; recently, she had found herself mildly shaken by her encounter with the Trump called Taylor Hebert. And now, Contessa was doing it to her as well. This was not the first time Contessa had stumped her; nor would it be the last. She was even kind of used to it. But it didn't mean that she had to like it.

“If Taylor Hebert has not gone missing,” she tried once more, “then why did Daniel Hebert call Director Piggot and say that she had?”

“Because it's Taylor Hebert's body double that's been abducted.” Contessa told her blithely, still typing rapidly on the keyboard. “Taylor hasn't gone home because she's planning a rescue.”

“Body double? Abducted?” Rebecca sat down on a conveniently placed chair. “She has a body double?”

“She does,” Contessa confirmed. “It's been abducted by Coil. He thinks it's the real deal, and intends to force her to work for him.”

“Oh shit,” Alexandria muttered. She drew a deep breath. “I have to stop this before it gets out of hand. Door to -”

“No.” Contessa's voice was firm. “That's not the way.”

Alexandria stared at her. “Then what is the way? What are you going to do?”

Contessa didn't answer; her fingers on the keyboard rattled to a crescendo, and the lines of code on the screen dwindled down and disappeared, to be replaced by pictures. Security camera pictures.

“You hacked into Coil's security feeds,” Alexandria stated, with barely any surprise. This was Contessa, after all. “I'm surprised he has outside lines.”

Contessa smiled briefly. “He'd be surprised, too.” She cleared her throat. “Door to microwave.”

Just as the small opening appeared in the air next to her, Alexandria heard the microwave oven make its ding sound. Contessa reached through; her hand reappeared with a bag of popcorn. She tore it open, the mouthwatering odour filling the room in seconds, and offered Rebecca the bag. “Want some?”

<><>​

“Oh, shit.” Über shook his head wildly. “No way. Not a hope in hell. He'll kill us.”

“He wouldn't kill us,” L33t told him, grinning like a maniac. “Not for something like that.”

“Well, send us to the Birdcage, then,” Über relented. “Or jail. Not the revolving door type, either. The type where you don't escape from.”

“It's not a Birdcage worthy offence,” I told him, trying hard not to grin too widely myself; Über was looking from one to the other of us, as if trying to figure out what we'd been sniffing. “At worst, it's a misdemeanour. The real charge would come if I actually committed a crime.”

“Breaking and entering on Coil's base isn't a crime?” yelped Über.

“Is Coil going to call the cops?” countered L33t. He mimed dialling a phone, then held his hand up to his ear. “Hello, is this the police? Ah, yes, this is Coil? You know, notorious supervillain?” He paused. “Well, fairly well known supervillain.” Another pause, and he frowned elaborately. “Look, I'm a supervillain, all right? I've got a base and everything. I've even got minions. Seriously, I mean it.”

His voice was high and whiny, almost a parody of how he'd been when I first met him. By this time, I was giggling so hard that I had to sit down. Über tried to shoot me an exasperated glance, but he was grinning too.

L33t hadn't finished. “Look, what I'm calling you about – what do you mean, what's my address? I'll text it to you as soon as I've finished this call, all right? Okay, where was I? Oh yes, see, I kidnapped a teenage girl, in the hopes of forcing her to work for me, but it turns out she was a body double of the real girl, and she and her dashing and handsome teammates -”

That set Über off; he leaned against the workbench, then slid to the floor, laughing helplessly. L33t was doing his best not to laugh, but chortles were escaping through, even as he manfully kept going. “So – hehe – yeah, they've broken into my base – ha ha ha ha – and they've rescued the body double and given me a wedgie too – oh god, I can't keep going.”

By this time, I was laughing so hard, I fell off the chair. I rolled on the floor, holding my stomach, while L33t slowly subsided to the floor on one side of the workshop, and Über whooped like a hyena on the other.

Über recovered first. “Can you imagine,” he cackled. “They ask him for his address. He sends it.” He paused for a beat, then assumed a chagrined expression. “Whoops.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I gasped, slowly pulling myself to a sitting position. “I wish he would call them. That would be so hilarious.”

“We pull this off,” L33t pointed out, “this puts us on to the fucking map.”

“It'll also put us on to the Protectorate's radar,” Über pointed out more soberly. “Which is what I was trying to say, earlier. We don't want to be there.”

I climbed to my feet and dusted myself off. “I'm already there,” I told him. “But I've got a personal assurance that they'll stay off my case.” I grinned. “And in any case, this is payback. They came into my house and pointed guns in my face. So fuck 'em.”

They both stared at me, eyes wide.

“You're shitting me,” L33t breathed.

“I shit you not,” I replied, and dusted my hands off. “Well, almost done, and then it will be go time. We're going to have to get a move along; he's starting to question her. I don't know how long Alibi will hold out before he twigs to what she is.”

“Dibs on the wedgie,” Über noted. “Finished dinner?” He indicated the plates on the workbench; we'd eaten standing up, snatching bites in between doing our work.

“So to speak,” grumbled L33t. “That's something else I want to talk to Coil about. If I'm gonna have dinner, I want to be able to enjoy it.”

“I'll cook you something when we get back, okay?” I told him.

It was almost miraculous, the way he brightened up. He rubbed his hands together. “All righty then. Let's get to it.”

“You two have the appropriate uniforms, right?” I asked.

Über nodded as he stacked the plates. “Yeah, we made them up awhile ago, when it looked like they were going to bring out a movie. We were going to wear them to the premiere. It never happened.”

I nodded. “Good. L33t, how are you going with that?”

“Just about finished with the detail work, so you can do the internal adjustments,” he replied cheerfully.

“Good.” I turned to finish the latest addition to the Hax armour, a bulky disk that was affixed to the shoulders of the suit. It made for a vulnerable point on the armour, but it was something that could not be helped. I gave the connections a once-over on high-zoom scan, then closed the panel, locking it into place.

<><>​

Sundown. She's been awake for ten minutes. There's been no alarm raised via the PRT. Good to go.

Coil smiled, and dropped the timeline where he had told Regent not to go ahead with the kidnapping, and opened another, alongside the current one. Despite the fact that he was reasonably sure that the Hebert girl didn't have Regent's power – if she had ever taken it – he did not deactivate his precautions. His office door remained locked, and the banner continued to scroll across the bottom of his screen.

<><>​

Timeline A

When the door lock clicked open, Taylor Hebert ran to it. “Oh, thank god,” she gasped. “I have no idea where I am. Can -”

The jolt of a stun-gun dropped her to the floor again. She was dragged into the next room, where a chair awaited. She was fastened into it, the straps holding her down securely. Under each hand was a prominent button.

<><>​

Timeline B

When the door lock clicked open, Taylor Hebert ran to it. “Oh, thank god,” she gasped. “I have no idea where I am. Can I speak to whoever's in charge? There's been a terrible mistake.”

The guard nodded politely. “Certainly, miss,” he told her. “If you will just come this way?”

Cameras followed her as the guard escorted her to a comfortably furnished lounge, with a coffee machine in the corner. He gestured her to a seat, then took up a position next to the coffee machine. “Would you like a cup, ma'am?”

“Uh, no thank you,” she replied, taking a seat. “Where's your boss?”

<><>​

Timeline A

“Your name is Taylor Hebert,” Coil stated into his microphone, “and you're a Trump.” He saw her react, her head coming up. She began to speak, but he ignored her. “In a moment, your restraints will send an electrical charge through your body. You have ten seconds to decide which button to press, in order to prevent this from happening. Starting now.”

The seconds counted down; at the last moment, she jammed her hand on to the left-side button. Then the current hit her; she convulsed, straining at the restraints.

“Hm.” Coil frowned. If she was using my power, she would have pressed both buttons, and chosen the line where she did not get shocked. Unless she thought it was a bluff, or she's trying to trick me.

“Again,” he stated flatly. She was screaming, begging, pleading. Denying. He ignored her. “Ten seconds.”

This time, she jammed her hand flat on the right-hand button, kept it there until the current hit her. Coil frowned again. She knows now that the current is not a bluff. Her range is probably shorter.

Deactivating his Master/Stranger precautions – after all, if she were going to use any Master powers she had taken from Regent, she would have by now – he unlocked his office door, and started walking toward the section of the base where she was being held.

“Again,” he stated. “Ten seconds.”

This time, she chose correctly. But when he tested her a fourth time, she failed. He started walking again.

<><>​

Timeline B

The large screen on the wall flickered to life, and she saw the image of his masked face. He saw her brow furrow in concentration. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why am I here?”

“I apologise for the rather unorthodox manner of your arrival,” he told her smoothly. “Unfortunately, as a supervillain, I cannot simply invite someone to my doorstep. And even should the authorities find that we have been associating, you can point to the abduction as proof that there was no prior intent on your part.”

“Well, of course there was no damn intent on my part,” she retorted, rubbing her arm. “That kid injected me with something. Why the hell am I here?”

“Because I want to offer you a job, of course,” he replied. “You possess talents that I wish to have in my employ.”

She tilted her head, the lights in the room flashing off of her glasses momentarily. “I'm a fifteen year old high school student,” she pointed out, somewhat warily. “I can't imagine any talent that I have that you might want to make use of. And if it's something that I don't want to think about, eww.”

He had to chuckle. “No, Taylor. The talent that I wish to make use of is the one that you acquired recently. Your cape power. Your Trump power.”

She blinked in what seemed to be honest confusion. “You're mistaking me for someone else. I'm not a cape, Trump or otherwise.”

“My information says otherwise,” he pointed out.

“No, really,” she told him. “I'm not a cape. You can test me.”

<><>​

Timeline A

As he got closer, the more her assertion, as wild as it was on the surface, seemed to be borne out by events. She was averaging about one success in two now; sometimes she would get several in a row, but it was obvious that she was trying to outguess the random mechanism. Sometimes she would be shocked several times in a row as well; it evened out.

When he entered the room, she was hanging forward from the restraints, watery blood drooling down her chin from where she had bitten her lip, or perhaps her tongue.

“Please,” she sobbed, her throat raspy from where she had screamed herself hoarse. “I'm not a cape. I'm not. You have to believe me.”

He knelt beside her, his hand on her arm. If she was going to acquire his power at all, this would do it. “One last chance,” he murmured. “Get it right, and you live.”

Ten seconds later, the shock convulsed through her; he snatched his hand back just in time, only getting the barest tingle. Turning toward the camera, he pulled his hand across his throat; finish her. The current kept going, until she was only reacting to the jolts themselves.

With a sigh, he turned away from her. “Dispose of the -”

<><>​

Timeline B

With an effort, he kept himself from jolting in surprise. What the hell? What happened? The timeline just … ended.

I died. I must have.

But … how?

Or did she … take over my use of my power? Force me to drop the timeline where something bad happened to her? A chill ran down his back. No-one had ever done that to him before.

On the screen, she was peering at him. “Hello?”

“Oh, uh, sorry.” He eyed her warily. “I … we were talking about how I know you are a cape.”

“I keep telling you, test me,” she insisted. “I don't care what you think you know, I don't have cape powers.”

He split the timelines again. In one, he pointed at the screen. “Stay there. I'm coming to speak to you personally.”

<><>​

Timeline C

In the other, he stayed right where he was.

This required further study.

<><>​

Alexandria frowned and pointed at the screen. “You see that? Right there? He just got a hell of a shock. Now what could have caused that?”

Contessa just grinned and munched popcorn.

<><>​

I soldered the last bits into place, and snapped the cover on. I was already wearing the armour; picking up the halberd, I twirled it expertly. My HUD let me select the latest armour pattern that I had uploaded into the suit; holographic gridlines overlaid the armour. Über and L33t watched, already appropriately attired, their faceplates open; as it finished rendering, I struck a pose.

“Well, what do you think?” I asked, my voice coming out rather deeper than I was used to.

“Fucking Armsmaster, to the fucking life,” Über marvelled. “If I hadn't seen it … “

I grinned; the image of Armsmaster showed his teeth. “Well, gentlemen, if you're ready to roll … “

L33t grinned as he snapped his faceplate down. “This is gonna fuckin' rock.”

Placing a hand on the shoulder of each of my teammates, I selected the new option from my HUD. L33t's teleport disk, repurposed, rode the shoulders of my armour. It was a bit of an energy hog, but my suit could power it for two jumps. Beyond that, we would be on our own.

“Okay, boys,” I told them. “Call it.”

“On three,” Über stated.

“Two,” chimed in L33t.

“One,” I concluded, and I gave the command with the flick of my eye.

The teleport disk energised, and we went.

Hang on, Alibi. We're on the way.


End of Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen