Part Twenty-Nine: New Developments
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Wyvern
Part Twenty-Nine: New Developments
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Monday Morning, January 24th, 2011
Hebert Household
Wyvern
"Uggghhhh …" I groaned as I rolled out of bed.
Every muscle in my body was aching like I'd run two marathons back-to-back then engaged in a brisk swim from the northern ferry terminal to the other side of the bay and back again. At the time, I hadn't felt much in the way of physical strain on my body, but it seemed that figuring out entirely new ways to fuck up my enemies took its toll. And of course, I had the Machine Army to thank for the ability to drain two bunches of ABB power armour of their electrical storage.
It would be nice, I mused as I tottered along to the bathroom, to be able to go up against some new enemy without having to first evolve yet another method of ruining their entire day. A mugger sounded about right. Someone I could yell at, or at least squawk loudly, until they gave themselves up to the cops.
The shower was heavenly. Hot jets of water pounded on my skin and unlocked knots of muscle, allowing me to emerge feeling at least partially human. My joints were still creaking like rusty hinges as I got dressed and made my way downstairs, but I was moving a little more easily.
"And she finally emerges." Dad greeted me cheerfully from the kitchen, along with the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs, not to mention coffee. "I was beginning to wonder if wyverns were in the habit of hibernating over the next few months."
My reply was extremely mature and well-thought-out; I poked my tongue out at him. "Oh, ha ha," I grumbled. "I should've known I'd be cramped up like this. Same thing happened after the Nine."
"Ah, I see." He nodded wisely as he plated up some bacon and eggs, and delivered them to my place at the table. "You figured out several new forms then too, didn't you?"
"And how to scare the shit out of the entire city by perching up on Captain's Hill, yes." I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down. "On the upside, the ABB's had the shit kicked out of it and the Empire seems to be keeping their heads well down at the moment. What's the latest news about Winslow?"
"Still closed," he reported. "However, it seems official attention has lit a fire under that Blackwell woman, because I got a call this morning to the effect that the sooner we showed up and signed some paperwork, the more likely it would be to guarantee you a place in Arcadia."
"Well, it's good that something did," I muttered. The temptation to go and literally light a fire under her had been growing by the day. Most of it had been from the side of me that held the wyvern, but not all.
Dad raised his eyebrows. "I hope you hadn't been thinking of going and doing something drastic on your own accord. The Winslow setup could easily have gotten you in a lot of trouble if you'd been a little more reactive. With a power like yours, you can't afford to be careless even once."
I took a deep breath, then nodded in agreement. "Mrs Dallon and I have already had this discussion. Someone as powerful as me can't just be careful and law-abiding; I have to be seen to be careful and law-abiding. There are people out there who would love nothing more than to tear down anyone more powerful than them if they catch even a whiff of wrongdoing, no matter how little proof there is of it."
"Scandal sells," Dad agreed. "Scandal involving a well-known or powerful figure even more so."
I had a mouthful of egg at that moment so I couldn't answer directly, so I waved my fork around instead. Once my mouth was clear, I put the fork down again. "Seriously, I killed the Nine. Shouldn't that satisfy them even a little bit?"
Sombrely, Dad shook his head. "Afraid not, hon. With some people, that sort of thing just energises them to dig even deeper for the dirt they're absolutely certain is there. Or to manufacture it, on the principle that they 'know' you've committed atrocities but gotten away with it, so they're just fixing the record." He shrugged. "So yes, as soon as we're finished breakfast, we're paying a visit to Arcadia."
It was good news, but I was cynical enough to not be pinning all my hopes on it just yet. Repeated jolts to my optimism had had that effect. Still, I was totally willing to go along and see what happened.
Under the Medhall Building
Kaiser
"Okay, then." Max gestured at the multiple mobile screens, each of which was running footage on mute of Wyvern pulling off yet another mildly terrifying stunt. First and foremost was the imagery of her perched upon Captain's Hill, then there was her power demonstration over the city. The last two, sourced from within the PRT itself, showed her thoroughly demolishing Eagleton and Ellisburg. Footage of her dealing with the ABB was actually thin on the ground, but the results couldn't be argued with.
Crusader shook his head. "I hate to be That Guy, but I did kinda tell you so. We shoulda pulled a Fleur. As it is, if we stick our heads up even a little bit now, we're gonna be painting targets on our own backs. And she's got the firepower to smack any or all of us down without breaking a sweat."
"Well, it's too late now." Victor leaned back in his chair. "She's best buds with Hero now. If she dies under even remotely suspicious circumstances, we'll have the Triumvirate—"
"Plus Legend," Max put in tiredly. "There have been verified sightings of him teaming up with her against the ABB."
"—plus Legend," Victor continued without pausing, "all climbing up our asses and turning this whole town upside down to find out who pulled the trigger, who paid the money, and who gave the order. And I'm good, but against those assholes, I'm not that good. If we're lucky, we'd end up in the Birdcage. Not so lucky, we'd go the way of Death-Trap."
A gloomy silence fell on the gathering. Death-Trap had been a particularly unpleasant villain whose projected 'trap' had been threatening dozens of civilians with an imminent end. Alexandria had been beset by a bunch of his minions, so was unable to break them out in time. So she cut the Gordian knot by bursting through the minions, grabbing Death-Trap, and snapping his neck before anyone could react.
Gruesome though the act was, it had set a precedent; while the Protectorate (and then the Triumvirate) had not followed up on it all that often, the threat was definitely on the table.
"Well, that's it then." Rune rolled her eyes. "We're just going to admit defeat, tuck our tail between our legs, and let her force us out of Brockton Bay?"
The silence became awkward, as the older members of the team (basically, all of them) did their best to avoid each other's gaze, as well as hers. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the ugly truth, but she'd gone right ahead and spoken it out loud.
And then Victor sat up. "Maybe not."
Max looked around from where he'd been studying her movements during the power demonstration. "Say again?"
Victor's voice was stronger, and he waved one finger in the air as though conducting the world's smallest orchestra. "I said, maybe not. We can't fight her directly, correct?"
Hookwolf folded his arms. "Not unless we wanna end up as tasty meat snacks, no. We don't. What's your point?"
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there." Victor seemed to be enjoying his little epiphany. "And we can't murder her in secret, because it wouldn't be secret for much longer, and I have zero desire to be torn limb from limb by Alexandria."
"We know all that," Max interjected. He hated not being in on the reveal from the beginning. "What are you trying to say?"
Victor smiled beatifically. "I'm saying that we're going to have to make use of our various talents in a whole new direction. Actual assassination might be out of the question … but character assassination is not."
Alabaster and Stormtiger shared a puzzled glance. Hookwolf did likewise with Cricket. Finally, Crusader asked, "What?"
But even as he spoke, Max felt the proverbial lightbulb flare to life above his head. "You're a genius. Of course. If we make her look bad, she'll be spending too much time fighting the allegations against her to actually come after us."
"But how are we gonna do that?" Rune was still figuring it out. "She's their brand-new great white hope. They love her."
"Not necessarily." Max spoke with authority. Optimism flared through him once more. "There are always those who hate and fear people who don't share their own views and who are more powerful than them. We can tap into that. Spread rumours. And where rumours fail to serve … then we shall make things happen."
Hookwolf got it next. For a grunt and a head-kicker, the tattooed ex-cage-fighter could be surprisingly perceptive at times. "So we still find out who she is when she's not being a fucking dragon, but instead of ganking her, we frame the fuck out of her."
"Fuck, yeah!" Stormtiger gave him a high-five. "We'll never have to lay a hand on her. The Triumvirate can kiss my muscular white ass."
Victor smiled. "Exactly."
Coil
Thomas Calvert considered his options.
He didn't want to leave Brockton Bay. Too much in the way of resources and time had been sunk into his position in the city; not just his underground base and mercenary group, but also the effort he'd put into worming his way back into the PRT. If he dumped all that now, he'd be starting from scratch in a whole new city. Hard pass.
The second option involved continuing his operations while doing his best to ignore Wyvern and not pose any kind of threat to her …
… or her father.
Crap.
Not threatening the girl who could literally become an S-class threat in less than a minute was something he had no problem coming to terms with. Once she was in her Changer form, there was literally nothing he could do to her that she couldn't do back to him a thousandfold, and he was in no way a fan of facing the consequences of his own actions. That wasn't the problem.
The real fly in the ointment was Danny Hebert.
While Taylor's father wasn't heavily into politics—in fact, the man showed a marked disdain for the whole concept of wheeling and dealing—Thomas knew damn well that once he started gaining a real foothold in the political/industrial scene, he and Danny were going to clash. After all, the only reason Thomas wanted access to that level of power was for the profits and the control, which meant that kickbacks were going to become absolutely essential for anyone wanting concessions from him. And if there was one thing he'd learned about Danny Hebert, it was that Hebert didn't play that game.
It was partially the reason why the Dockworkers had fallen on such hard times, but also the reason behind them still being extant as an independent organisation instead of having been folded into one gang or another. From what he'd learned of the history of the Dockworkers' Association, Danny's father George had made it a point of pride to maintain square dealing all the way down the line, and Danny kept up the tradition as a matter of principle. Dockworkers may have come and gone, and a few might have taken employment with one gang or another when times were tight, but the organisation as a whole kept its books clean.
Which was admirable in an objective sense, but not a subjective one (ie, what Thomas was actually concerned about). Specifically, it meant that once the political landscape began to change under Thomas' direction and hands were held out for 'charitable donations', Danny Hebert would be telling them where to stick their donations. And while in a purely financial sense, Thomas would be able to get by without whatever the Association could give, it would absolutely not be wise to allow that sort of thing to happen lest other people—or groups—decided that they didn't want to pay either.
Neither would Hebert be likely to consider any kind of overt partnership offer, any more than he would be inclined to pay kickbacks to be allowed to continue operations. Thus leading to a thoroughly untenable conflict of interests.
The third option was no more palatable, but it was somewhat more survivable. And 'survivable' was what Thomas was aiming for at the moment.
Instead of forcibly recruiting Taylor Hebert to his cause like he'd done with Tattletale, he'd be nice about it. All carrot, no stick, most especially because any suggestion of stick would see him shot in the head. And if she wanted to be the senior partner in the joint endeavour … well, he'd just have to smile through the pain and allow her to take the lion's share of profits. Or the dragon's share, in her case.
It wasn't a great plan, or even a good plan.
But it was a plan.
Taking up his phone, he made a call. "Tattletale, I have a task for you …"
Wyvern
Just pulling up outside the gates of Arcadia left me with the strange feeling that something was missing from the picture. As I got out of the car, I looked around, trying to figure out what it was. I'd been here before with Vicky, but then I'd been the wyvern, so everyone had been paying attention to me and I'd been more than a little distracted. Now I was looking at it with fresh eyes: the eyes of someone who had to attend as a student.
There was a wall around the whole campus, which Winslow lacked, but that wasn't it. The current students were streaming in through the gates, chattering to each other and generally socialising, but Winslow had those too.
And then I got it. The wall, and indeed the visible area of Arcadia, entirely lacked the graffiti, the vandalism and multiple overlapping gang tags that I suspected were baked into the exterior of Winslow by now. For that matter, none of the kids were wearing even subtle versions of the gang colours, or segregating themselves into mutually hostile factions.
It was honestly like I was peering into a different dimension, and I wasn't sure how to take it.
Dad looked over at me. "So, are you ready to go in?"
Belatedly, I nodded. "Yeah, let's go do this." I had my chance to transfer to Arcadia, and I was damned if I'd let someone else take my place because I hesitated too long. Especially if that someone was Madison or Julia. Those two would rub my face in it all day long if they got in and I didn't. Emma, not so much since that night on Captain's Hill.
We started forward into Arcadia, Dad standing out like a giraffe in a herd of wildebeest while I more or less blended in with the other teenagers trudging toward their academic penance. However, despite more than one curious glance, nobody actually challenged our presence or right to be there. This place was already looking up.
Between the directions we'd been given and the helpful signage dotted around the place, Dad found the administration area with ease. The lady behind the counter beamed at us when we entered; either she was a better actor than I was used to admin staff being, or the expression was actually genuine. "Hi, there! Can I help you?"
"I certainly hope so." Dad held up the packet of information that he'd been told we needed to bring along. "I'm Danny Hebert, and this is my daughter Taylor. We're here to see about her chances of transferring here from Winslow High."
"Taylor Hebert?" The lady's expression actually brightened, which was another first in my experience. Back in Winslow, just hearing my name was enough to utterly ruin their entire day, or so it seemed. "That name definitely rings a bell. Let me just check and see what we've got."
I shared a glance with Dad. She hadn't denied my existence or my chance for entry into Arcadia, and was actually offering to help. This didn't sound right. Maybe she'd mistaken me for someone else?
He shrugged infinitesimally. While his experience with the creatively obstructive nature of the Winslow bureaucracy wasn't as broad or deep as mine, he'd certainly formed his own thoroughly negative view of it. I got the impression he was as dubious as I was about how helpful this lady was actually going to be.
"Ah, yes!" She smiled brilliantly. I wasn't fooled. She was about to lower the boom and tell us my application had been denied, beaming all the while. "Taylor Anne Hebert. I'm pleased to say that you've been accepted into Arcadia."
I shrugged. "Yeah, well, kinda what I—wait, what?" Having half-turned away, I awkwardly reversed my motion. "Did you just say I've been accepted?"
"Well, yes." Her smile actually became motherly, something that neither Blackwell nor her pet Cerberus (that woman might have had only one head, but she had enough spite for three) could've achieved without a total personality transplant. "Your academic transcript makes it clear that up until ninth grade, you were quite the achiever. We understand that the difficulties you've had in keeping up your grades since then were not of your doing, so Vice Principal Howell is willing to give you the chance to turn all that around."
I became aware that my jaw was hanging half-open, and shut it with an effort. "I, uh … thank you?"
"You're totally welcome, Ms Hebert." She hit me with that mega-wattage beam of happiness again. "Now, the vice principal has blocked out time this morning to give you a final entry interview, if you're free right now. If not, we can schedule another time."
"Nope." Dad spoke first, even before I could formulate the word. "We're good. Any time she's free, we can do this."
"Well, okay then." She picked up her phone and hit a couple of digits on the keypad. "Ms Howell, the Heberts are here. Are you clear for an interview?"
Dad and I both knew what the answer would be if Blackwell were to be asked that question. She could have the entire day free, and she'd still find excuses not to actually do her damn job. But the last few minutes had entirely overturned my expectations, so I decided to wait and see what happened next.
A door farther back in the administration area opened. I didn't pay much attention, until a woman with bleached-blonde hair and a bright floral scarf and blouse stepped out. She came forward, clearly focusing on us. I tensed slightly.
"Good morning," she said; her smile didn't have the natural outshine-the-sun capability of her receptionist, but it seemed genuine enough. "I'm Vice Principal Audrey Howell. You would be the Heberts?"
"Ahh … yes," Dad responded. It took him a moment to recover his poise, which I didn't blame him for. It wasn't that she was particularly attractive; more that she was there, instead of hiding in her office and studiously ignoring us. "I'm Danny, and this is my daughter Taylor. You're saying she's actually got a place here?"
"If she wants it, yes," the vice principal agreed at once. "There are just a few things that it would probably be a good idea to discuss first. If you would like to come to my office?"
I shared a glance with Dad; 'just a few things' sounded a little ominous, but what the hell. We'd gotten this far. It was time to see where this led to. "Certainly," he said, echoing my thoughts. "Lead the way."
She took us back to her office and ushered us to the visitor chairs. "Would you like refreshments before we begin?" she asked. "Tea? Coffee?"
The cognitive dissonance was just too weird; I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks. What did you want to talk to us about?"
Beside me, Dad sat silently. I knew he could've said something but was preferring to let me take the lead.
Vice Principal Howell smiled again. It was probably supposed to be reassuring, but nothing about this environment was serving to reassure me. "Taylor … may I call you Taylor?"
"Uh … sure?" I honestly didn't care what she called me, so long as she let me know what was going on around here.
"Thank you, Taylor." She tapped a folder on the desk in front of her. I didn't even have to strain my eyes to see that it had my name on it. "As Janice probably told you, we've received your academic transcript. Up until the end of the eighth grade, your marks were excellent, especially in English. But then they started going consistently downhill in a way that would normally have ruled you out of a place at this school. However," she added, just as I opened my mouth to speak. "Director Piggot of the PRT also sent a message along, indicating that since the beginning of the ninth grade you've been suffering from an unrelenting bullying campaign partially masterminded by someone who is now an ex-member of the Wards program."
I blinked. "She did?" Holy shit, someone in a position of power actually took some responsibility? Beside me, Dad looked equally taken aback.
A moment later, cold hard reality set in. The last thing Director Piggot wanted was for me as Wyvern to decide that the PRT was being needlessly obstructive. Of course she was bending over backward to do everything possible to keep me happy in my civilian life.
"She certainly did. And given your prior marks, I would be very interested in seeing what you're capable of, given a real opportunity. Which leads me to the next question." She tapped her fingertips together. "Taylor. You have three options in front of you right now. The first is that you step into the tenth-grade class schedule here and hit the ground running. It will not be easy, and you'll have some catching up to do, but I believe that you have a good chance of making it. The second option is to go back into the ninth grade, and perhaps test out to jump up a grade when your academic scores suggest that you're ready. And the third is to undergo testing before you decide, and attend a mix of grade nine and ten classes, depending on which ones you're best suited for. With the option of testing out for the tenth grade as you get caught up in each class."
But … that's actually reasonable. I didn't have any baseline for this. Had the Director filled Ms Howell in on my Wyvern identity? Somehow, I doubted it; her job wasn't worth it. She'd sent the message about the bullying, which had gotten me this far, but she wouldn't have done more than that.
"I think …" I paused, trying to figure out what I really wanted. My pride pushed me to just go for the burn. I'm smart; I'll make it. The part of me that hosted the wyvern was more than a little complicit in this. Dragons had their pride; who knew?
But thinking about the wyvern also reminded me that I was a superhero, and that I'd need to put some time and effort into going out with New Wave. If I was working overtime to catch up with stuff my classmates already knew, one or the other would suffer, and I'd already had enough of pushing shit uphill for little return before now. So maybe pride was not the answer this time.
However, it was strong enough to make me not want to drop all the way down to ninth grade again. I'd done that already; not well, but I'd done it. So I made my decision. "… I'll take the testing, please."
"Excellent." She looked pleased with herself; belatedly, I realised that she'd framed the options in such a way that made it almost certain that I'd pick the testing. Vice Principal Howell, it seemed, was nobody's dummy. "When will you be free to sit down for the tests?"
Dad had apparently picked up on my conclusion as well, from the respectful nod he gave her. "You set the time and she'll be here. We're not about to let this opportunity go to waste."
"Really?" She looked at me. "Would today be okay, Taylor?"
I blinked, caught on the back foot. "Um, um, um, sure."
"Well, then." She dusted her hands off. "Your transcripts say you were best at English, so I'll have Mr Robertson set you up with a test during first period, then work through the other subjects one at a time."
Dad's brows rose. "That sounds good to me. Taylor, do you feel comfortable with me leaving you here until you're done with the tests?"
I nodded, knowing I could answer that question at least. "Sure. I already know a few people who come here, so I'll be able to hang out with them at lunch."
"Good, good." He smiled benignly, fully aware of who I was talking about. "Well, I suppose I should go and make sure they haven't given my office away to someone else. See you later, Taylor, Ms Howell."
"Later, Dad." I watched him walk out the door, then turned back to the vice principal. "So, uh, Mr Robertson, you said?"
Ms Howell nodded. "Certainly. I'll take you there myself."
As I followed her out the door, I was tempted to pinch myself and make sure this wasn't some bizarre dream. But I didn't; on the off-chance that it was, I didn't want to wake up.
Under the Medhall Building
Kaiser
The discussion was still ongoing, with vigorous disagreements echoing off the walls. Max sat back, restraining the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose as three different factions vied for supremacy. He was staying out of the argument, as were Menja and Fenja, but that wasn't actually helping to calm matters down.
"It's simple!" Hookwolf insisted for at least the fifth time in a row. "We gank some mugger or purse snatcher, tear 'em up a bit, maybe set 'em on fire, then get someone to swear blind they saw Wyvern do it. The newsies will eat it up, especially if she can't prove she wasn't there."
"For the tenth goddamn time," insisted Alabaster, "no matter where she is, we can't know she isn't being watched by someone. We frame her like that, she'll know someone's looking to fuck her over. And as soon as it gets proven to be a fake one time, it'll be a lot harder to pull that shit a second time."
"Yeah." Rune spread her hands. "And how the hell are we gonna set 'em on fire, anyway?"
"Othala, duh," retorted Stormtiger, while Cricket nodded in agreement. "Pyrokinesis is a goddamn useful power."
Othala raised her eyebrows. "Wow, thanks for volunteering me. I doubt very much that it would work in the first place. I've seen the footage of her fire, and it doesn't act the same way as the pyrokinesis does. Better off to fake property damage, then have our witnesses claim that she did it."
"Exactly," agreed Victor, to nobody's surprise. "That way, we don't get inconvenient forensic clues derailing the narrative. When a wall gets smashed down, it's a lot harder to reconstruct exactly how it was smashed."
Max sighed and raised a finger. "In case we haven't already covered this, what do we do if the PRT gives her the ultimatum to join the Wards, and she accepts? It'll be considerably harder to frame her after that."
"If that happens, it'll still be a win condition," Krieg assured him. "Once she's in the Wards, they'll put a lot more guard-rails around her. Director Piggot will be thoroughly unwilling to allow her free rein in the Brockton Bay area. Most likely, she'll have Wyvern loaned out to whatever other locations have a need for a truly large dragon equipped with whatever breath weapon is appropriate at the time."
"Yeah!" Rune had a coin spinning in the air in front of her. "All we really gotta do is spread rumours. Don't even need to do any damage or gank some sucker. Everyone who matters is online. We spread enough stories about how she secretly eats babies or some shit, people are gonna start believing."
Hookwolf scoffed. "Online's all well an' good, but what if she shows up down at the fuckin' Boardwalk for a meet an' greet? She gets big enough, she can talk right back to 'em. An' with New Wave there, people aren't gonna be scared of her."
Krieg smiled. "We'll have people in place for just that situation. They'll be primed to engineer a clash with her, or do something else that makes her look bad. I personally doubt she'll do it—Lady Photon and Brandish aren't fools—but if she does, she will regret it forever."
Max sighed. "Alright then. For the sake of compromise, and for getting anything else done today, this is what we're going to do. We'll start with the online smear campaign. Once the groundwork has been laid, we'll segue into the property damage. Then, if it seems required, we'll escalate to human victims. Does that suit everyone?"
Sitting back, he surveyed them with an expression that said, it had better suit everyone.
Hookwolf rubbed his chin, but eventually he nodded. "Okay, yeah, sure. Still think we should gank someone up front to make certain, though. Blood in the water is what brings the sharks out."
Rune rolled her eyes. "We can get ten times the result with one-tenth the effort, without ever getting up from the computer."
"Which reminds me," Max said. "Tammi, I agreed to let you stay for your insights, and your mother has informed them that you would be late, but you need to go to school now." She began to speak, but he cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Okay, I'm going, I'm going." She plucked the coin out of the air as she stood up from the table. "For the record, I coulda stayed. One day off school isn't gonna kill me."
"We all know that you need to maintain an appearance of normality." He was lecturing now, but she needed to hear it. "The last thing we want is anyone paying more than the normal level of attention to any of us, for any reason. Being late for school is one thing; skipping the whole day is quite another. We need this to be a once-off, not a pattern of behaviour."
"Fine." She stomped out of the room in a wave of teenage angst.
Stormtiger snorted with amusement. "Kid's a real live wire, I'll give her that."
I don't need live wires. I need people who will do what they're told. But instead of voicing that out loud, Max turned to Victor. "So, how long until you can launch the whispering campaign?"
The skill-thief smiled and steepled his fingertips. "I'll make a start on it this afternoon."
Undersiders' Hideout
Grue
"Okay, what the hell?"
Brian was just in the process of locking the exterior door when Lisa's voice came floating down from above. She sounded more confused than pissed off or worried, so he finished turning the lock then climbed the spiral staircase to the upper level. A single half-hearted 'woof' came from Rachel's dogs before she shushed them.
"Morning, all." He tossed a cinnamon bun to Lisa, a croissant to Alec, and a bag of meat scraps to Rachel. "What's the latest crisis? Did the boss want us to kidnap the Mayor? Or maybe scout out Wyvern as a new recruit?"
Lisa wrinkled her nose at him, but bit into the bun anyway. "You think you're funny, but you're not."
He settled down on the sofa, took a bite from his powdered donut, then washed it down with coffee. "Opinions vary. So, what's got your nose out of joint this morning?"
"Wyvern." She snapped the word like it had done her a personal insult.
"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Alec waved the half-eaten croissant. "Didn't the boss already ask us how to make her defect? And you told him it wasn't gonna happen in a million years? Is he on that again?"
Lisa's sigh was one for the ages. "Yes." Her exasperation didn't prevent her from taking another bite from the bun, though. "But this time, he doesn't want her joining us." She didn't elaborate further.
Brian frowned. By process of elimination, that meant … "He wants us to join her?" That didn't sound right, at all.
Lisa finished the bun, then dusted the cinnamon off her hands. "He wants us to approach her with an offer. Basically, deal her in on his criminal activities. Reading between the lines, he wants to bribe her to look the other way while we and the boss keep doing crime here in Brockton Bay."
"Bribe?" Alec had also finished the croissant and was licking his fingers. "Isn't she like, stupid rich from ganking the Nine? What the hell's he gonna bribe her with?"
Lisa shrugged. "Most of his money, I guess. In addition, she's a teenage girl and apparently a bit of a social pariah." She rolled her eyes. "So apparently, we're also supposed to offer companionship and friendship as part of the deal."
Alec sat up straight, all trace of his previously indolent attitude as dust on the wind. "The fuck? That asshole's pimping us out now?"
"No, not that … exactly, anyway." Lisa looked oddly at Alec. "That was weirdly specific, right then. Are you okay?"
Alec shook his head. "I know what 'companionship' really means. And it means pimping someone out. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Brian?" Lisa looked over at him. "Tell Alec he's being paranoid."
Brian shook his head, recalling what he'd walked in on when Aisha had been offered up as 'companionship' to his mother's boyfriend, once upon a time. "He's really not. You need to get a lot more details about what's expected of us before I'm even remotely on board with this."
"Okay, fine." Lisa sounded resigned. "Rachel?"
"If they're not in, I'm not in." Rachel didn't look up from where she was feeding the meat scraps to her dogs. "Tell him to go fuck himself."
Lisa looked like she wanted to run her hands through her hair but refrained, probably because of the neat French braid she was currently sporting. "I'm sure he doesn't mean exactly that. I mean, she's a girl."
Alec didn't budge. "And so what? You don't think a girl can be a predator too?"
"That's not the vibe I'm getting from this." Lisa spread her hands. "If I'm reading the situation right, she's never even had a boyfriend."
"Perfect," Alec riposted. "She's probably into girls. Go right ahead and say you'll be her 'companionship' if you're so set on this. See where that gets you."
"No." Brian shook his head. "Nobody's doing that until we've got more details on her. Lisa, how much is the boss paying us for this?"
"A hundred K, each, if she agrees." Her tone was flat. "And that's if we step up. Anyone who sits out, gets nothing."
The money was tempting, but he still wanted to hold off from jumping in feet-first. "Okay, how about this, guys? We meet with her and Lisa gets a good read. Then, once we know what she's really like and what we'd be getting into if we do agree, that's when we make our decision."
Alec spent way too long thinking about it, but he finally nodded. "Sure, but if she's a skeev, I'm gone. With all the rule-34 shit online, people who spend too much time inside their own heads can pick up some pretty weird kinks. Stuff that not even I'm into." He shuddered theatrically.
"Okay, yes, yes, we got it." Brian glanced over at Rachel. "You in?"
She shrugged. "Okay. Just to look. But I'm not doing any weird shit."
"That's fair." He dusted off his hands and turned back to Lisa. "Well, set up the meet. Time to go offer Wyvern a whole lot of money."
Alec snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Waving a bunch of gold, and a couple of teenage girls, in front of a dragon. That can never end badly."
A chill ran down Brian's back. He hoped it wasn't foreshadowing.
Noon
Arcadia High, Cafeteria
Glory Girl
"Hey, who's that over there?"
Vicky looked around as Dean asked the question. "Who's over where?"
"There." Dean pointed toward one of the tables over in the back of the cafeteria. "The girl with the black curly hair and glasses. Even though she looks familiar somehow, I'm pretty sure I've never seen her in here before."
Vicky peered in that direction, and blinked. Huh. That's Taylor. "Neither have I. Must be a new student. I think I'll go say hi."
She got up, leaving her meal where it was, and wandered over to where Taylor sat. Typical for her, she was reading a book at the table, wearing the fake glasses she'd tended to use since Amy fixed her eyes. In front of her was a tray with a pita wrap, an apple and a bottle of orange juice. As Vicky watched, she took a bite out of the apple without raising her eyes from the page.
Coming all the way up to the table, Vicky realised that Taylor hadn't even noticed her yet. So she pulled out a chair and sat down, because why not.
That got Taylor's attention; she raised her eyes, probably to ask Vicky to leave her alone. But once she twigged that it was Vicky, she said nothing.
"Hey," Vicky greeted her cheerfully.
"Oh, hey." Taylor kept her voice down. "Should you really be advertising that you know me?"
Vicky grinned conspiratorially. "But I'm not. See, I'm basically the unofficial greeter here. Anyone new comes in and sits alone, I make a point of coming over and saying hi, and asking if they want to join me at my table. Everyone's used to it by now."
"Huh." Taylor seemed to think about it. "That's really nice of you."
Vicky's grin broadened as she let her friend in on the other half of the secret. "Also, it gives me the perfect excuse to talk to any new Ward who shows up in Arcadia, without compromising their cape identity."
"Neat." Taylor seemed to be sincere in her praise, which was totally on brand. There was very little bullshit in her.
"Thank you." Vicky preened, just a little. "So, what're you doing here? Did they transfer you out of that shithole already?"
"Yeah." Taylor paused. "Well, they're in the process of doing it. I've been sitting tests all morning, to see where I fit in each class I'll be attending. If I need to drop back to freshman level for some classes, stuff like that. So once they grade me on the tests, they'll know which textbooks I need to get and what classes to go to."
"Huh." Vicky took a moment to digest that, then nodded. "Well, good luck with all that. Did you want to come on over and meet everyone?"
Taylor frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head. "Dad's going to be showing up in the next twenty minutes or so. I need to finish this, then go outside and wait for him. Thanks for asking anyway. I guess I'll get to know your friends once I start attending for real."
"I'll hold you to that." Vicky gave her a beaming smile, then stood up and headed back to her table. "Definitely a new student," she reported. "Her name's Taylor; she seems nice. She's transferring in from Winslow."
"Well, that's different." Dean took another look across the cafeteria at Taylor. "I don't see any gang tattoos."
Vicky frowned, knowing she had to nip this in the bud. "Not everyone in Winslow is affiliated with the gangs. Don't make a big thing of it, but she was bullied pretty badly while she was there. They stuffed her locker full of some really gross stuff then literally blew it up and set the school on fire. And the pièce de résistance was that the school tried to blame her for it."
There was a moment of silence, then Dean shook his head. "That's insane. What happened?"
"Lawyers got involved." Vicky shrugged. "The school administrators backed off fast. They were in the process of transferring her here when the bullies doubled down and set fire to the school again in an attempt to frame her for it. So they expedited the process, and now she's taking tests to see what grade she fits into for each class."
"Jesus Christ." Dean blinked. "That's fucking psychotic. I hope the bullies got caught."
Vicky grinned. "Yeah. They totally got caught."
Taylor
There were trees and tables spread out in front of Arcadia, and I picked a table that was in full sunlight; even at noon, it was still a little chilly outside. It was quite pleasant sitting there with the book until Dad showed up, in a way that Winslow had never offered. To be brutally realistic, if they'd even had tables like that, the gang factions would've laid claim to them, then destroyed them so other factions couldn't take them over.
A few minutes later, I heard the squeak of brakes and looked up from the book. Dad's car had just pulled up; I got to my feet and put the book in my backpack. Strolling out of Arcadia, I opened the passenger side door and got in. "Hey, Dad."
"Hi." Dad waited until I had my seatbelt done up before he started off again. "How'd it go?"
I heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "Well, the English test was rough but I think I'll still be in the sophomore class for that. Math, I'll probably be dropping back to freshman. The rest, I can't really tell yet. I'm sure they'll let us know."
He smiled, then reached across to ruffle my hair. "Your mom would be proud of you for keeping your grades up even with all this opposition. No matter what classes you have to redo. That's on Emma and her friends, not you."
"Thanks." I leaned back in my seat and looked out the window. The day was definitely looking up. Then my phone pinged, and I fished it out of my pocket. "Okay, who's messaging me?"
"I predict Vicky or Amy. They're the only ones who even have your number, right?"
"Yeah, you're probably right." I woke up the phone and navigated into the mobile PHO app. The private message was right there, waiting to be read.
To: Wyvern
From: SilentWhispers
Subject: So hey, you're pretty cool
I know you don't know me, but I swear I'm not trying to sell you anything.
I just wanted you to know I think you're pretty damn cool, especially with the way you've been totally wrecking the opposition. Also, I have a buddy who would love to thank you personally for how thoroughly you fucked up Shadow Stalker.
Would it be okay if we got together to hang out? No pressure.
Tt.
I read the message through again, trying to make sense of it.
"What … the hell?"
Was this my life now? Random fans messaging me online?
I had no idea how to handle this.
End of Part Twenty-Nine
Part Twenty-Nine: New Developments
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Monday Morning, January 24th, 2011
Hebert Household
Wyvern
"Uggghhhh …" I groaned as I rolled out of bed.
Every muscle in my body was aching like I'd run two marathons back-to-back then engaged in a brisk swim from the northern ferry terminal to the other side of the bay and back again. At the time, I hadn't felt much in the way of physical strain on my body, but it seemed that figuring out entirely new ways to fuck up my enemies took its toll. And of course, I had the Machine Army to thank for the ability to drain two bunches of ABB power armour of their electrical storage.
It would be nice, I mused as I tottered along to the bathroom, to be able to go up against some new enemy without having to first evolve yet another method of ruining their entire day. A mugger sounded about right. Someone I could yell at, or at least squawk loudly, until they gave themselves up to the cops.
The shower was heavenly. Hot jets of water pounded on my skin and unlocked knots of muscle, allowing me to emerge feeling at least partially human. My joints were still creaking like rusty hinges as I got dressed and made my way downstairs, but I was moving a little more easily.
"And she finally emerges." Dad greeted me cheerfully from the kitchen, along with the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs, not to mention coffee. "I was beginning to wonder if wyverns were in the habit of hibernating over the next few months."
My reply was extremely mature and well-thought-out; I poked my tongue out at him. "Oh, ha ha," I grumbled. "I should've known I'd be cramped up like this. Same thing happened after the Nine."
"Ah, I see." He nodded wisely as he plated up some bacon and eggs, and delivered them to my place at the table. "You figured out several new forms then too, didn't you?"
"And how to scare the shit out of the entire city by perching up on Captain's Hill, yes." I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down. "On the upside, the ABB's had the shit kicked out of it and the Empire seems to be keeping their heads well down at the moment. What's the latest news about Winslow?"
"Still closed," he reported. "However, it seems official attention has lit a fire under that Blackwell woman, because I got a call this morning to the effect that the sooner we showed up and signed some paperwork, the more likely it would be to guarantee you a place in Arcadia."
"Well, it's good that something did," I muttered. The temptation to go and literally light a fire under her had been growing by the day. Most of it had been from the side of me that held the wyvern, but not all.
Dad raised his eyebrows. "I hope you hadn't been thinking of going and doing something drastic on your own accord. The Winslow setup could easily have gotten you in a lot of trouble if you'd been a little more reactive. With a power like yours, you can't afford to be careless even once."
I took a deep breath, then nodded in agreement. "Mrs Dallon and I have already had this discussion. Someone as powerful as me can't just be careful and law-abiding; I have to be seen to be careful and law-abiding. There are people out there who would love nothing more than to tear down anyone more powerful than them if they catch even a whiff of wrongdoing, no matter how little proof there is of it."
"Scandal sells," Dad agreed. "Scandal involving a well-known or powerful figure even more so."
I had a mouthful of egg at that moment so I couldn't answer directly, so I waved my fork around instead. Once my mouth was clear, I put the fork down again. "Seriously, I killed the Nine. Shouldn't that satisfy them even a little bit?"
Sombrely, Dad shook his head. "Afraid not, hon. With some people, that sort of thing just energises them to dig even deeper for the dirt they're absolutely certain is there. Or to manufacture it, on the principle that they 'know' you've committed atrocities but gotten away with it, so they're just fixing the record." He shrugged. "So yes, as soon as we're finished breakfast, we're paying a visit to Arcadia."
It was good news, but I was cynical enough to not be pinning all my hopes on it just yet. Repeated jolts to my optimism had had that effect. Still, I was totally willing to go along and see what happened.
<><>
Under the Medhall Building
Kaiser
"Okay, then." Max gestured at the multiple mobile screens, each of which was running footage on mute of Wyvern pulling off yet another mildly terrifying stunt. First and foremost was the imagery of her perched upon Captain's Hill, then there was her power demonstration over the city. The last two, sourced from within the PRT itself, showed her thoroughly demolishing Eagleton and Ellisburg. Footage of her dealing with the ABB was actually thin on the ground, but the results couldn't be argued with.
Crusader shook his head. "I hate to be That Guy, but I did kinda tell you so. We shoulda pulled a Fleur. As it is, if we stick our heads up even a little bit now, we're gonna be painting targets on our own backs. And she's got the firepower to smack any or all of us down without breaking a sweat."
"Well, it's too late now." Victor leaned back in his chair. "She's best buds with Hero now. If she dies under even remotely suspicious circumstances, we'll have the Triumvirate—"
"Plus Legend," Max put in tiredly. "There have been verified sightings of him teaming up with her against the ABB."
"—plus Legend," Victor continued without pausing, "all climbing up our asses and turning this whole town upside down to find out who pulled the trigger, who paid the money, and who gave the order. And I'm good, but against those assholes, I'm not that good. If we're lucky, we'd end up in the Birdcage. Not so lucky, we'd go the way of Death-Trap."
A gloomy silence fell on the gathering. Death-Trap had been a particularly unpleasant villain whose projected 'trap' had been threatening dozens of civilians with an imminent end. Alexandria had been beset by a bunch of his minions, so was unable to break them out in time. So she cut the Gordian knot by bursting through the minions, grabbing Death-Trap, and snapping his neck before anyone could react.
Gruesome though the act was, it had set a precedent; while the Protectorate (and then the Triumvirate) had not followed up on it all that often, the threat was definitely on the table.
"Well, that's it then." Rune rolled her eyes. "We're just going to admit defeat, tuck our tail between our legs, and let her force us out of Brockton Bay?"
The silence became awkward, as the older members of the team (basically, all of them) did their best to avoid each other's gaze, as well as hers. Nobody wanted to acknowledge the ugly truth, but she'd gone right ahead and spoken it out loud.
And then Victor sat up. "Maybe not."
Max looked around from where he'd been studying her movements during the power demonstration. "Say again?"
Victor's voice was stronger, and he waved one finger in the air as though conducting the world's smallest orchestra. "I said, maybe not. We can't fight her directly, correct?"
Hookwolf folded his arms. "Not unless we wanna end up as tasty meat snacks, no. We don't. What's your point?"
"I'm getting there, I'm getting there." Victor seemed to be enjoying his little epiphany. "And we can't murder her in secret, because it wouldn't be secret for much longer, and I have zero desire to be torn limb from limb by Alexandria."
"We know all that," Max interjected. He hated not being in on the reveal from the beginning. "What are you trying to say?"
Victor smiled beatifically. "I'm saying that we're going to have to make use of our various talents in a whole new direction. Actual assassination might be out of the question … but character assassination is not."
Alabaster and Stormtiger shared a puzzled glance. Hookwolf did likewise with Cricket. Finally, Crusader asked, "What?"
But even as he spoke, Max felt the proverbial lightbulb flare to life above his head. "You're a genius. Of course. If we make her look bad, she'll be spending too much time fighting the allegations against her to actually come after us."
"But how are we gonna do that?" Rune was still figuring it out. "She's their brand-new great white hope. They love her."
"Not necessarily." Max spoke with authority. Optimism flared through him once more. "There are always those who hate and fear people who don't share their own views and who are more powerful than them. We can tap into that. Spread rumours. And where rumours fail to serve … then we shall make things happen."
Hookwolf got it next. For a grunt and a head-kicker, the tattooed ex-cage-fighter could be surprisingly perceptive at times. "So we still find out who she is when she's not being a fucking dragon, but instead of ganking her, we frame the fuck out of her."
"Fuck, yeah!" Stormtiger gave him a high-five. "We'll never have to lay a hand on her. The Triumvirate can kiss my muscular white ass."
Victor smiled. "Exactly."
<><>
Coil
Thomas Calvert considered his options.
He didn't want to leave Brockton Bay. Too much in the way of resources and time had been sunk into his position in the city; not just his underground base and mercenary group, but also the effort he'd put into worming his way back into the PRT. If he dumped all that now, he'd be starting from scratch in a whole new city. Hard pass.
The second option involved continuing his operations while doing his best to ignore Wyvern and not pose any kind of threat to her …
… or her father.
Crap.
Not threatening the girl who could literally become an S-class threat in less than a minute was something he had no problem coming to terms with. Once she was in her Changer form, there was literally nothing he could do to her that she couldn't do back to him a thousandfold, and he was in no way a fan of facing the consequences of his own actions. That wasn't the problem.
The real fly in the ointment was Danny Hebert.
While Taylor's father wasn't heavily into politics—in fact, the man showed a marked disdain for the whole concept of wheeling and dealing—Thomas knew damn well that once he started gaining a real foothold in the political/industrial scene, he and Danny were going to clash. After all, the only reason Thomas wanted access to that level of power was for the profits and the control, which meant that kickbacks were going to become absolutely essential for anyone wanting concessions from him. And if there was one thing he'd learned about Danny Hebert, it was that Hebert didn't play that game.
It was partially the reason why the Dockworkers had fallen on such hard times, but also the reason behind them still being extant as an independent organisation instead of having been folded into one gang or another. From what he'd learned of the history of the Dockworkers' Association, Danny's father George had made it a point of pride to maintain square dealing all the way down the line, and Danny kept up the tradition as a matter of principle. Dockworkers may have come and gone, and a few might have taken employment with one gang or another when times were tight, but the organisation as a whole kept its books clean.
Which was admirable in an objective sense, but not a subjective one (ie, what Thomas was actually concerned about). Specifically, it meant that once the political landscape began to change under Thomas' direction and hands were held out for 'charitable donations', Danny Hebert would be telling them where to stick their donations. And while in a purely financial sense, Thomas would be able to get by without whatever the Association could give, it would absolutely not be wise to allow that sort of thing to happen lest other people—or groups—decided that they didn't want to pay either.
Neither would Hebert be likely to consider any kind of overt partnership offer, any more than he would be inclined to pay kickbacks to be allowed to continue operations. Thus leading to a thoroughly untenable conflict of interests.
The third option was no more palatable, but it was somewhat more survivable. And 'survivable' was what Thomas was aiming for at the moment.
Instead of forcibly recruiting Taylor Hebert to his cause like he'd done with Tattletale, he'd be nice about it. All carrot, no stick, most especially because any suggestion of stick would see him shot in the head. And if she wanted to be the senior partner in the joint endeavour … well, he'd just have to smile through the pain and allow her to take the lion's share of profits. Or the dragon's share, in her case.
It wasn't a great plan, or even a good plan.
But it was a plan.
Taking up his phone, he made a call. "Tattletale, I have a task for you …"
<><>
Wyvern
Just pulling up outside the gates of Arcadia left me with the strange feeling that something was missing from the picture. As I got out of the car, I looked around, trying to figure out what it was. I'd been here before with Vicky, but then I'd been the wyvern, so everyone had been paying attention to me and I'd been more than a little distracted. Now I was looking at it with fresh eyes: the eyes of someone who had to attend as a student.
There was a wall around the whole campus, which Winslow lacked, but that wasn't it. The current students were streaming in through the gates, chattering to each other and generally socialising, but Winslow had those too.
And then I got it. The wall, and indeed the visible area of Arcadia, entirely lacked the graffiti, the vandalism and multiple overlapping gang tags that I suspected were baked into the exterior of Winslow by now. For that matter, none of the kids were wearing even subtle versions of the gang colours, or segregating themselves into mutually hostile factions.
It was honestly like I was peering into a different dimension, and I wasn't sure how to take it.
Dad looked over at me. "So, are you ready to go in?"
Belatedly, I nodded. "Yeah, let's go do this." I had my chance to transfer to Arcadia, and I was damned if I'd let someone else take my place because I hesitated too long. Especially if that someone was Madison or Julia. Those two would rub my face in it all day long if they got in and I didn't. Emma, not so much since that night on Captain's Hill.
We started forward into Arcadia, Dad standing out like a giraffe in a herd of wildebeest while I more or less blended in with the other teenagers trudging toward their academic penance. However, despite more than one curious glance, nobody actually challenged our presence or right to be there. This place was already looking up.
Between the directions we'd been given and the helpful signage dotted around the place, Dad found the administration area with ease. The lady behind the counter beamed at us when we entered; either she was a better actor than I was used to admin staff being, or the expression was actually genuine. "Hi, there! Can I help you?"
"I certainly hope so." Dad held up the packet of information that he'd been told we needed to bring along. "I'm Danny Hebert, and this is my daughter Taylor. We're here to see about her chances of transferring here from Winslow High."
"Taylor Hebert?" The lady's expression actually brightened, which was another first in my experience. Back in Winslow, just hearing my name was enough to utterly ruin their entire day, or so it seemed. "That name definitely rings a bell. Let me just check and see what we've got."
I shared a glance with Dad. She hadn't denied my existence or my chance for entry into Arcadia, and was actually offering to help. This didn't sound right. Maybe she'd mistaken me for someone else?
He shrugged infinitesimally. While his experience with the creatively obstructive nature of the Winslow bureaucracy wasn't as broad or deep as mine, he'd certainly formed his own thoroughly negative view of it. I got the impression he was as dubious as I was about how helpful this lady was actually going to be.
"Ah, yes!" She smiled brilliantly. I wasn't fooled. She was about to lower the boom and tell us my application had been denied, beaming all the while. "Taylor Anne Hebert. I'm pleased to say that you've been accepted into Arcadia."
I shrugged. "Yeah, well, kinda what I—wait, what?" Having half-turned away, I awkwardly reversed my motion. "Did you just say I've been accepted?"
"Well, yes." Her smile actually became motherly, something that neither Blackwell nor her pet Cerberus (that woman might have had only one head, but she had enough spite for three) could've achieved without a total personality transplant. "Your academic transcript makes it clear that up until ninth grade, you were quite the achiever. We understand that the difficulties you've had in keeping up your grades since then were not of your doing, so Vice Principal Howell is willing to give you the chance to turn all that around."
I became aware that my jaw was hanging half-open, and shut it with an effort. "I, uh … thank you?"
"You're totally welcome, Ms Hebert." She hit me with that mega-wattage beam of happiness again. "Now, the vice principal has blocked out time this morning to give you a final entry interview, if you're free right now. If not, we can schedule another time."
"Nope." Dad spoke first, even before I could formulate the word. "We're good. Any time she's free, we can do this."
"Well, okay then." She picked up her phone and hit a couple of digits on the keypad. "Ms Howell, the Heberts are here. Are you clear for an interview?"
Dad and I both knew what the answer would be if Blackwell were to be asked that question. She could have the entire day free, and she'd still find excuses not to actually do her damn job. But the last few minutes had entirely overturned my expectations, so I decided to wait and see what happened next.
A door farther back in the administration area opened. I didn't pay much attention, until a woman with bleached-blonde hair and a bright floral scarf and blouse stepped out. She came forward, clearly focusing on us. I tensed slightly.
"Good morning," she said; her smile didn't have the natural outshine-the-sun capability of her receptionist, but it seemed genuine enough. "I'm Vice Principal Audrey Howell. You would be the Heberts?"
"Ahh … yes," Dad responded. It took him a moment to recover his poise, which I didn't blame him for. It wasn't that she was particularly attractive; more that she was there, instead of hiding in her office and studiously ignoring us. "I'm Danny, and this is my daughter Taylor. You're saying she's actually got a place here?"
"If she wants it, yes," the vice principal agreed at once. "There are just a few things that it would probably be a good idea to discuss first. If you would like to come to my office?"
I shared a glance with Dad; 'just a few things' sounded a little ominous, but what the hell. We'd gotten this far. It was time to see where this led to. "Certainly," he said, echoing my thoughts. "Lead the way."
She took us back to her office and ushered us to the visitor chairs. "Would you like refreshments before we begin?" she asked. "Tea? Coffee?"
The cognitive dissonance was just too weird; I shook my head. "I'm good, thanks. What did you want to talk to us about?"
Beside me, Dad sat silently. I knew he could've said something but was preferring to let me take the lead.
Vice Principal Howell smiled again. It was probably supposed to be reassuring, but nothing about this environment was serving to reassure me. "Taylor … may I call you Taylor?"
"Uh … sure?" I honestly didn't care what she called me, so long as she let me know what was going on around here.
"Thank you, Taylor." She tapped a folder on the desk in front of her. I didn't even have to strain my eyes to see that it had my name on it. "As Janice probably told you, we've received your academic transcript. Up until the end of the eighth grade, your marks were excellent, especially in English. But then they started going consistently downhill in a way that would normally have ruled you out of a place at this school. However," she added, just as I opened my mouth to speak. "Director Piggot of the PRT also sent a message along, indicating that since the beginning of the ninth grade you've been suffering from an unrelenting bullying campaign partially masterminded by someone who is now an ex-member of the Wards program."
I blinked. "She did?" Holy shit, someone in a position of power actually took some responsibility? Beside me, Dad looked equally taken aback.
A moment later, cold hard reality set in. The last thing Director Piggot wanted was for me as Wyvern to decide that the PRT was being needlessly obstructive. Of course she was bending over backward to do everything possible to keep me happy in my civilian life.
"She certainly did. And given your prior marks, I would be very interested in seeing what you're capable of, given a real opportunity. Which leads me to the next question." She tapped her fingertips together. "Taylor. You have three options in front of you right now. The first is that you step into the tenth-grade class schedule here and hit the ground running. It will not be easy, and you'll have some catching up to do, but I believe that you have a good chance of making it. The second option is to go back into the ninth grade, and perhaps test out to jump up a grade when your academic scores suggest that you're ready. And the third is to undergo testing before you decide, and attend a mix of grade nine and ten classes, depending on which ones you're best suited for. With the option of testing out for the tenth grade as you get caught up in each class."
But … that's actually reasonable. I didn't have any baseline for this. Had the Director filled Ms Howell in on my Wyvern identity? Somehow, I doubted it; her job wasn't worth it. She'd sent the message about the bullying, which had gotten me this far, but she wouldn't have done more than that.
"I think …" I paused, trying to figure out what I really wanted. My pride pushed me to just go for the burn. I'm smart; I'll make it. The part of me that hosted the wyvern was more than a little complicit in this. Dragons had their pride; who knew?
But thinking about the wyvern also reminded me that I was a superhero, and that I'd need to put some time and effort into going out with New Wave. If I was working overtime to catch up with stuff my classmates already knew, one or the other would suffer, and I'd already had enough of pushing shit uphill for little return before now. So maybe pride was not the answer this time.
However, it was strong enough to make me not want to drop all the way down to ninth grade again. I'd done that already; not well, but I'd done it. So I made my decision. "… I'll take the testing, please."
"Excellent." She looked pleased with herself; belatedly, I realised that she'd framed the options in such a way that made it almost certain that I'd pick the testing. Vice Principal Howell, it seemed, was nobody's dummy. "When will you be free to sit down for the tests?"
Dad had apparently picked up on my conclusion as well, from the respectful nod he gave her. "You set the time and she'll be here. We're not about to let this opportunity go to waste."
"Really?" She looked at me. "Would today be okay, Taylor?"
I blinked, caught on the back foot. "Um, um, um, sure."
"Well, then." She dusted her hands off. "Your transcripts say you were best at English, so I'll have Mr Robertson set you up with a test during first period, then work through the other subjects one at a time."
Dad's brows rose. "That sounds good to me. Taylor, do you feel comfortable with me leaving you here until you're done with the tests?"
I nodded, knowing I could answer that question at least. "Sure. I already know a few people who come here, so I'll be able to hang out with them at lunch."
"Good, good." He smiled benignly, fully aware of who I was talking about. "Well, I suppose I should go and make sure they haven't given my office away to someone else. See you later, Taylor, Ms Howell."
"Later, Dad." I watched him walk out the door, then turned back to the vice principal. "So, uh, Mr Robertson, you said?"
Ms Howell nodded. "Certainly. I'll take you there myself."
As I followed her out the door, I was tempted to pinch myself and make sure this wasn't some bizarre dream. But I didn't; on the off-chance that it was, I didn't want to wake up.
<><>
Under the Medhall Building
Kaiser
The discussion was still ongoing, with vigorous disagreements echoing off the walls. Max sat back, restraining the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose as three different factions vied for supremacy. He was staying out of the argument, as were Menja and Fenja, but that wasn't actually helping to calm matters down.
"It's simple!" Hookwolf insisted for at least the fifth time in a row. "We gank some mugger or purse snatcher, tear 'em up a bit, maybe set 'em on fire, then get someone to swear blind they saw Wyvern do it. The newsies will eat it up, especially if she can't prove she wasn't there."
"For the tenth goddamn time," insisted Alabaster, "no matter where she is, we can't know she isn't being watched by someone. We frame her like that, she'll know someone's looking to fuck her over. And as soon as it gets proven to be a fake one time, it'll be a lot harder to pull that shit a second time."
"Yeah." Rune spread her hands. "And how the hell are we gonna set 'em on fire, anyway?"
"Othala, duh," retorted Stormtiger, while Cricket nodded in agreement. "Pyrokinesis is a goddamn useful power."
Othala raised her eyebrows. "Wow, thanks for volunteering me. I doubt very much that it would work in the first place. I've seen the footage of her fire, and it doesn't act the same way as the pyrokinesis does. Better off to fake property damage, then have our witnesses claim that she did it."
"Exactly," agreed Victor, to nobody's surprise. "That way, we don't get inconvenient forensic clues derailing the narrative. When a wall gets smashed down, it's a lot harder to reconstruct exactly how it was smashed."
Max sighed and raised a finger. "In case we haven't already covered this, what do we do if the PRT gives her the ultimatum to join the Wards, and she accepts? It'll be considerably harder to frame her after that."
"If that happens, it'll still be a win condition," Krieg assured him. "Once she's in the Wards, they'll put a lot more guard-rails around her. Director Piggot will be thoroughly unwilling to allow her free rein in the Brockton Bay area. Most likely, she'll have Wyvern loaned out to whatever other locations have a need for a truly large dragon equipped with whatever breath weapon is appropriate at the time."
"Yeah!" Rune had a coin spinning in the air in front of her. "All we really gotta do is spread rumours. Don't even need to do any damage or gank some sucker. Everyone who matters is online. We spread enough stories about how she secretly eats babies or some shit, people are gonna start believing."
Hookwolf scoffed. "Online's all well an' good, but what if she shows up down at the fuckin' Boardwalk for a meet an' greet? She gets big enough, she can talk right back to 'em. An' with New Wave there, people aren't gonna be scared of her."
Krieg smiled. "We'll have people in place for just that situation. They'll be primed to engineer a clash with her, or do something else that makes her look bad. I personally doubt she'll do it—Lady Photon and Brandish aren't fools—but if she does, she will regret it forever."
Max sighed. "Alright then. For the sake of compromise, and for getting anything else done today, this is what we're going to do. We'll start with the online smear campaign. Once the groundwork has been laid, we'll segue into the property damage. Then, if it seems required, we'll escalate to human victims. Does that suit everyone?"
Sitting back, he surveyed them with an expression that said, it had better suit everyone.
Hookwolf rubbed his chin, but eventually he nodded. "Okay, yeah, sure. Still think we should gank someone up front to make certain, though. Blood in the water is what brings the sharks out."
Rune rolled her eyes. "We can get ten times the result with one-tenth the effort, without ever getting up from the computer."
"Which reminds me," Max said. "Tammi, I agreed to let you stay for your insights, and your mother has informed them that you would be late, but you need to go to school now." She began to speak, but he cleared his throat meaningfully.
"Okay, I'm going, I'm going." She plucked the coin out of the air as she stood up from the table. "For the record, I coulda stayed. One day off school isn't gonna kill me."
"We all know that you need to maintain an appearance of normality." He was lecturing now, but she needed to hear it. "The last thing we want is anyone paying more than the normal level of attention to any of us, for any reason. Being late for school is one thing; skipping the whole day is quite another. We need this to be a once-off, not a pattern of behaviour."
"Fine." She stomped out of the room in a wave of teenage angst.
Stormtiger snorted with amusement. "Kid's a real live wire, I'll give her that."
I don't need live wires. I need people who will do what they're told. But instead of voicing that out loud, Max turned to Victor. "So, how long until you can launch the whispering campaign?"
The skill-thief smiled and steepled his fingertips. "I'll make a start on it this afternoon."
<><>
Undersiders' Hideout
Grue
"Okay, what the hell?"
Brian was just in the process of locking the exterior door when Lisa's voice came floating down from above. She sounded more confused than pissed off or worried, so he finished turning the lock then climbed the spiral staircase to the upper level. A single half-hearted 'woof' came from Rachel's dogs before she shushed them.
"Morning, all." He tossed a cinnamon bun to Lisa, a croissant to Alec, and a bag of meat scraps to Rachel. "What's the latest crisis? Did the boss want us to kidnap the Mayor? Or maybe scout out Wyvern as a new recruit?"
Lisa wrinkled her nose at him, but bit into the bun anyway. "You think you're funny, but you're not."
He settled down on the sofa, took a bite from his powdered donut, then washed it down with coffee. "Opinions vary. So, what's got your nose out of joint this morning?"
"Wyvern." She snapped the word like it had done her a personal insult.
"Wait. Wait, wait, wait." Alec waved the half-eaten croissant. "Didn't the boss already ask us how to make her defect? And you told him it wasn't gonna happen in a million years? Is he on that again?"
Lisa's sigh was one for the ages. "Yes." Her exasperation didn't prevent her from taking another bite from the bun, though. "But this time, he doesn't want her joining us." She didn't elaborate further.
Brian frowned. By process of elimination, that meant … "He wants us to join her?" That didn't sound right, at all.
Lisa finished the bun, then dusted the cinnamon off her hands. "He wants us to approach her with an offer. Basically, deal her in on his criminal activities. Reading between the lines, he wants to bribe her to look the other way while we and the boss keep doing crime here in Brockton Bay."
"Bribe?" Alec had also finished the croissant and was licking his fingers. "Isn't she like, stupid rich from ganking the Nine? What the hell's he gonna bribe her with?"
Lisa shrugged. "Most of his money, I guess. In addition, she's a teenage girl and apparently a bit of a social pariah." She rolled her eyes. "So apparently, we're also supposed to offer companionship and friendship as part of the deal."
Alec sat up straight, all trace of his previously indolent attitude as dust on the wind. "The fuck? That asshole's pimping us out now?"
"No, not that … exactly, anyway." Lisa looked oddly at Alec. "That was weirdly specific, right then. Are you okay?"
Alec shook his head. "I know what 'companionship' really means. And it means pimping someone out. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Brian?" Lisa looked over at him. "Tell Alec he's being paranoid."
Brian shook his head, recalling what he'd walked in on when Aisha had been offered up as 'companionship' to his mother's boyfriend, once upon a time. "He's really not. You need to get a lot more details about what's expected of us before I'm even remotely on board with this."
"Okay, fine." Lisa sounded resigned. "Rachel?"
"If they're not in, I'm not in." Rachel didn't look up from where she was feeding the meat scraps to her dogs. "Tell him to go fuck himself."
Lisa looked like she wanted to run her hands through her hair but refrained, probably because of the neat French braid she was currently sporting. "I'm sure he doesn't mean exactly that. I mean, she's a girl."
Alec didn't budge. "And so what? You don't think a girl can be a predator too?"
"That's not the vibe I'm getting from this." Lisa spread her hands. "If I'm reading the situation right, she's never even had a boyfriend."
"Perfect," Alec riposted. "She's probably into girls. Go right ahead and say you'll be her 'companionship' if you're so set on this. See where that gets you."
"No." Brian shook his head. "Nobody's doing that until we've got more details on her. Lisa, how much is the boss paying us for this?"
"A hundred K, each, if she agrees." Her tone was flat. "And that's if we step up. Anyone who sits out, gets nothing."
The money was tempting, but he still wanted to hold off from jumping in feet-first. "Okay, how about this, guys? We meet with her and Lisa gets a good read. Then, once we know what she's really like and what we'd be getting into if we do agree, that's when we make our decision."
Alec spent way too long thinking about it, but he finally nodded. "Sure, but if she's a skeev, I'm gone. With all the rule-34 shit online, people who spend too much time inside their own heads can pick up some pretty weird kinks. Stuff that not even I'm into." He shuddered theatrically.
"Okay, yes, yes, we got it." Brian glanced over at Rachel. "You in?"
She shrugged. "Okay. Just to look. But I'm not doing any weird shit."
"That's fair." He dusted off his hands and turned back to Lisa. "Well, set up the meet. Time to go offer Wyvern a whole lot of money."
Alec snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Waving a bunch of gold, and a couple of teenage girls, in front of a dragon. That can never end badly."
A chill ran down Brian's back. He hoped it wasn't foreshadowing.
<><>
Noon
Arcadia High, Cafeteria
Glory Girl
"Hey, who's that over there?"
Vicky looked around as Dean asked the question. "Who's over where?"
"There." Dean pointed toward one of the tables over in the back of the cafeteria. "The girl with the black curly hair and glasses. Even though she looks familiar somehow, I'm pretty sure I've never seen her in here before."
Vicky peered in that direction, and blinked. Huh. That's Taylor. "Neither have I. Must be a new student. I think I'll go say hi."
She got up, leaving her meal where it was, and wandered over to where Taylor sat. Typical for her, she was reading a book at the table, wearing the fake glasses she'd tended to use since Amy fixed her eyes. In front of her was a tray with a pita wrap, an apple and a bottle of orange juice. As Vicky watched, she took a bite out of the apple without raising her eyes from the page.
Coming all the way up to the table, Vicky realised that Taylor hadn't even noticed her yet. So she pulled out a chair and sat down, because why not.
That got Taylor's attention; she raised her eyes, probably to ask Vicky to leave her alone. But once she twigged that it was Vicky, she said nothing.
"Hey," Vicky greeted her cheerfully.
"Oh, hey." Taylor kept her voice down. "Should you really be advertising that you know me?"
Vicky grinned conspiratorially. "But I'm not. See, I'm basically the unofficial greeter here. Anyone new comes in and sits alone, I make a point of coming over and saying hi, and asking if they want to join me at my table. Everyone's used to it by now."
"Huh." Taylor seemed to think about it. "That's really nice of you."
Vicky's grin broadened as she let her friend in on the other half of the secret. "Also, it gives me the perfect excuse to talk to any new Ward who shows up in Arcadia, without compromising their cape identity."
"Neat." Taylor seemed to be sincere in her praise, which was totally on brand. There was very little bullshit in her.
"Thank you." Vicky preened, just a little. "So, what're you doing here? Did they transfer you out of that shithole already?"
"Yeah." Taylor paused. "Well, they're in the process of doing it. I've been sitting tests all morning, to see where I fit in each class I'll be attending. If I need to drop back to freshman level for some classes, stuff like that. So once they grade me on the tests, they'll know which textbooks I need to get and what classes to go to."
"Huh." Vicky took a moment to digest that, then nodded. "Well, good luck with all that. Did you want to come on over and meet everyone?"
Taylor frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then shook her head. "Dad's going to be showing up in the next twenty minutes or so. I need to finish this, then go outside and wait for him. Thanks for asking anyway. I guess I'll get to know your friends once I start attending for real."
"I'll hold you to that." Vicky gave her a beaming smile, then stood up and headed back to her table. "Definitely a new student," she reported. "Her name's Taylor; she seems nice. She's transferring in from Winslow."
"Well, that's different." Dean took another look across the cafeteria at Taylor. "I don't see any gang tattoos."
Vicky frowned, knowing she had to nip this in the bud. "Not everyone in Winslow is affiliated with the gangs. Don't make a big thing of it, but she was bullied pretty badly while she was there. They stuffed her locker full of some really gross stuff then literally blew it up and set the school on fire. And the pièce de résistance was that the school tried to blame her for it."
There was a moment of silence, then Dean shook his head. "That's insane. What happened?"
"Lawyers got involved." Vicky shrugged. "The school administrators backed off fast. They were in the process of transferring her here when the bullies doubled down and set fire to the school again in an attempt to frame her for it. So they expedited the process, and now she's taking tests to see what grade she fits into for each class."
"Jesus Christ." Dean blinked. "That's fucking psychotic. I hope the bullies got caught."
Vicky grinned. "Yeah. They totally got caught."
<><>
Taylor
There were trees and tables spread out in front of Arcadia, and I picked a table that was in full sunlight; even at noon, it was still a little chilly outside. It was quite pleasant sitting there with the book until Dad showed up, in a way that Winslow had never offered. To be brutally realistic, if they'd even had tables like that, the gang factions would've laid claim to them, then destroyed them so other factions couldn't take them over.
A few minutes later, I heard the squeak of brakes and looked up from the book. Dad's car had just pulled up; I got to my feet and put the book in my backpack. Strolling out of Arcadia, I opened the passenger side door and got in. "Hey, Dad."
"Hi." Dad waited until I had my seatbelt done up before he started off again. "How'd it go?"
I heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "Well, the English test was rough but I think I'll still be in the sophomore class for that. Math, I'll probably be dropping back to freshman. The rest, I can't really tell yet. I'm sure they'll let us know."
He smiled, then reached across to ruffle my hair. "Your mom would be proud of you for keeping your grades up even with all this opposition. No matter what classes you have to redo. That's on Emma and her friends, not you."
"Thanks." I leaned back in my seat and looked out the window. The day was definitely looking up. Then my phone pinged, and I fished it out of my pocket. "Okay, who's messaging me?"
"I predict Vicky or Amy. They're the only ones who even have your number, right?"
"Yeah, you're probably right." I woke up the phone and navigated into the mobile PHO app. The private message was right there, waiting to be read.
To: Wyvern
From: SilentWhispers
Subject: So hey, you're pretty cool
I know you don't know me, but I swear I'm not trying to sell you anything.
I just wanted you to know I think you're pretty damn cool, especially with the way you've been totally wrecking the opposition. Also, I have a buddy who would love to thank you personally for how thoroughly you fucked up Shadow Stalker.
Would it be okay if we got together to hang out? No pressure.
Tt.
I read the message through again, trying to make sense of it.
"What … the hell?"
Was this my life now? Random fans messaging me online?
I had no idea how to handle this.
End of Part Twenty-Nine