The Slippery Slope Pt 10 (Patreon)

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

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

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

Non-cape adversaries: twelve. Names irrelevant.

Specialist combat training: unlikely.

Possibility of evasion: low.

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

Cape adversaries: Two. Lung and Oni Lee.

Two versus one. Analysis: Formidable.

Winning strategy: Formulating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Initial plan; detonate grenades.

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

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

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

Secondary plan in effect.

Step one: remove Azn Bad Boyz.

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

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

Assume positive control: pistols one through twelve.

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

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

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

Conclusion: Adversaries one through eleven out of commission.

Adversary twelve remaining.

Pistol twelve: immobilise mechanism.

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

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

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

Step two: engage capes.

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

Analysis of intent: unknown. Irrelevant.

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

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

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

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

Repeat process as needed.

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

Damage potential: high.

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

Possibility of vehicular assault resulting in fatal damage: low.

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

Recommendation: repeat vehicular assault as necessary.

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

Assume positive control of vehicle tagged “my car”.

Open front passenger door of “my car”.

Get into “my car” and close door loudly.

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

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

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

Conclusion: still adhering to 'live capture' order.

Attack parameter two detected.

Perform countermeasure; close door at correct moment.

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

Countermeasure: successful.

Potential for damage to wrist: high.

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

Attack parameter one detected.

Perform countermeasure: immobilise pistol mechanism.

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

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

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

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

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

Attack parameter three detected.

Perform countermeasures: open door, maximum speed.

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

Attack parameter four detected.

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

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

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

Attack parameter six detected.

Target 'Oni Lee' now armed with knife.

Conclusion: non-lethal parameters no longer in effect.

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

Perform countermeasures: airbag and seat assault.

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

Airbag expansion speed: two hundred mph.

Result of impact: knife dropped.

Possibility of injury from airbag impact: moderate to high.

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

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

Assume positive control over bandolier clasp. Open bandolier clasp.

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

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

Analysis: target 'Oni Lee' has retreated.

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

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

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

Initiate asymmetrical vehicular assault against target 'Lung'.

Withdraw “Peter's truck” from assault group.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Further action: keep Lung away.

Probability that allies will die soon from wounds: high.

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

Conclusion: seek aid. Complication: phone unavailable.

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

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

Complication: allies will die if not assisted.

Complication: lacking knowledge to assist allies.

Complication: lacking ability to transport allies to assistance.

Conclusion: Allies will die. Situation sub-optimal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Preliminary analysis: attitude non-hostile.

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

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

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

Conclusion: Allies.

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

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

“And are those grenades?” That was Victor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Warn allies of impending event.

“Explosion,” I said out loud.

“What?” asked Victor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Context: profanity.

Conclusion: sub-optimal situation.

I looked at him. “What?”

He pointed ahead. “Cops.”

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

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

Conclusion: correct.

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

I turned to him. “Keep going.”

“Well, I wasn't about to stop, kid.”

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

“Well, good to hear.”

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

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

Assume positive control.

Assume positive control.

Assume positive control.

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

Vehicle carrying Empire allies falling behind.

Assume positive control. Allies may be necessary.

<><>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A name?” Vicky tilted her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<><>

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

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

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

I stared at the Boardwalk and the people on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apply brakes. Pull to side of road.

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

<><>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five seconds! Four! Three!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ally 'Jenna' deceased. Sub-optimal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The. Hell. You. Will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Assume positive control: Peter's truck. 

Part 11