One More Trigger Pt 7 (Patreon)

The transport came to a hover, preparatory to landing. Over the comm crackled a voice.

"Transport overhead, this is Flechette. Hold position and prepare to take on passenger."

The pilot replied automatically. "Roger, Flechette. Holding position.". His scans showed one person on the street below; female, teenage. The costume checked out as Flechette's. She raised her arbalest, loosed a missile. It clacked on to the side-rail of the transport above the hatch, caught. Grappling hook. He opened the hatch.

In the next few seconds, the girl was drawn up from the ground to the transport by a rapidly-shrinking chain; she grasped the rail, unhitched the hook, and swung herself aboard. "I'm here," she said briskly. "Let's go."

The pilot nodded, hit the button to close the hatch, and kicked the transport into a climbing turn.

***

Emma blinked herself awake. She was lying on a mattress on the floor, and snuggled up to her was ... Madison. She focused, and looked into Taylor's eyes, not two feet distant. Taylor grinned and shrugged, which is not easy to do when lying on one's side.

"She got lonely," she explained, nodding toward her arm, holding Madison close to her.

Emma nodded. "After what nearly happened to her, last night ... I'm not surprised," she replied in a low tone. She put her hand on Taylor's arm. "Thanks for being there. Thanks for being here."

Taylor grinned and ducked her head. "What else could I do? You're my best friend. Dad calls you the sister I never had. And Mads stood up for us, helped us out. I'm not gonna leave her in the lurch."

"Oh, for god's sake," mumbled a sleepy voice between them, "just make out already or shut up."

Taylor looked at Emma and raised an eyebrow; Emma grinned and nodded. They moved as one; Taylor pulled the pillow from under Madison's head and pressed it firmly over her face, while Emma began to tickle Madison mercilessly.

Madison's shriek was muffled by the pillow, but she came out fighting. She soon had the pillow off her face, and was attacking Taylor, while being in turn tickled by Emma. Then she and Taylor double-teamed Emma. After that, it devolved into a general shambles, tickling interspersed with whacking one another with pillows. Shrieks and giggles abounded.

***

This was brought to a halt by a knock on the door. From the other side, Alan Barnes called out, "I hope no-one's pillow-fighting in there. Those pillows are very expensive."

Emma dropped her pillow; the others did likewise.

"No, Dad," she called out. "We're not pillow-fighting.". She burst into giggles, looking at the other two, all three kneeling on the mattresses with their pyjamas in various stages of disarray, hair wild and unbrushed, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"Good," he called. "Are you decent?"

"Um ... wait just a minute?"

Pyjamas were hastily returned to a state of normality.

"Okay," she called. "We're good, now."

"That I would have to see to believe," he retorted, and opened the door. "Morning, girls," he greeted them.

"Morning, Dad," Emma replied with a giggle. The other two answered with variations on 'Morning, Mr Barnes'.

Alan Barnes seated himself on a chair by Emma's dressing-table and looked at them fondly. Fifteen years old, cute as hell, and already showing the promise of what they would look like as adults. They'll break some hearts before they're done, he told himself. Full of mischief, but basically good kids at heart.

Which was good, because the powers exhibited by each of them was enough to put them far out of the range of any merely human combatant. It was his self-appointed responsibility, and that of Danny Hebert – and it would be of Madison’s father, once he found out about his daughter’s powers – to help guide them to use their powers in a moral and upright manner.

It was a responsibility both terrifying and exhilarating.

"So how are you feeling this morning, Madison?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. "Better," she said. "A lot better. Every time I had a nightmare, Emma or Taylor was there to hold me. And I only threw up once."

"You threw up?" he asked sharply, looking at the carpet and the mattresses. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded earnestly. "It was nerves, I guess. I got to the bathroom in time, and only made a little bit of a mess."

"Which Emma cleaned up, while I got Mads cleaned up," Taylor chimed in. She grinned at him. "We had it under control, Mr Barnes."

"So I see," he agreed approvingly. Sharp kid, Taylor. Doesn’t have the looks of the other two, unfortunately, but more than makes up for it in brains. “Well, I’ve been speaking to your parents. Taylor, your dad will be here in an hour. Madison, yours also. We’ve got some talking to do. Also, you’ve got to decide how you’re going to let him know about your powers.”

Madison frowned. “I … how do I do something like that? Do I have to?”

Taylor, Emma and Alan all nodded. “Yeah,” said Taylor. “It’s really the best idea. Unless you go all out to hide it from him, he will find out sooner or later, and if he has to find out on his own, then he’ll be kind of hurt when he does. Trust issues, Mads. You want to avoid them.” She leaned across and hugged the shorter girl.

Madison nodded and sat down on the mattress, leaning into the hug. “I guess,” she said. “I just didn’t want this getting more complicated.”

Emma grinned and joined in the hug. “Trust me, it gets less complicated once he knows. Consider if we have to go and do something in costume in a hurry. If no-one in the house knows, you gotta either sneak out or lie. If he knows, he can cover for you.”

Madison’s head drooped. “What if he’s not good with me being a cape?” she asked in a small voice.

“If that happens,” said Alan Barnes, “Danny Hebert and I will have a conversation with him about not being a dick. But I don’t think that’ll happen. I don’t know him all that well, but he can’t be that much of an idiot; he’s got you for a daughter, after all.”

“It’s all good,” said Taylor, holding her close. “We’re your friends, and we’re here for you.”

“Both of us,” added Emma. “And we don’t let our friends down.” She followed suit.

Madison sniffled, then the tears started to flow.

“Are you okay?” asked Taylor.

Madison nodded. “Just so happy,” she explained. “Feel stupid, crying.”

Emma ruffled her hair. “You go cry all you like. I’ll tell you when it’s stupid, and it’s not stupid yet.”

So they held her as she cried, getting the emotional release that she needed. Alan caught Emma’s eye, and indicated the door. She nodded; he rose and left.

***

“Seriously?” Madison’s father looked at her. “You’ve got powers?”

She nodded. “Seriously, Dad. I ... I got them last night. It was ... kind of scary.”

Emma stepped up behind her and hugged her gently. She knew exactly how ‘kind of scary’ it had been.

He blinked. “So ... what sort of powers do you have?”

She grinned and held out her hand toward him, palm out. “Try to touch my hand.”

He frowned suspiciously, but reached forward with his finger to touch her hand. But something intervened; his hand slid away to the left, along the surface of a smooth ovoid. His frown deepened. He tried again, pushing harder. This time it slid away to the right. He set his feet and pushed both hands at the barrier simultaneously; this did no good, and the barrier seemed to be frictionless. He could not get his hand within three inches of hers.

“Okay,” he said. “I give up. How are you doing that?”

“Air,” she said. “I can move it and control it.” She held her arms out, and wind started whipping around herself and Emma. The two of them lifted a foot or so off the ground, the wind whistling and tearing at anything not nailed down, until she let them down again to the ground, the wind dying away almost instantly.

He stared at this display. “I’m impressed, I’m impressed,” he said. “Is there anything else you can do?”

“Ah, yeah,” she said. “But it’s kind of an attack. So, not going to demonstrate, here.”

He nodded. “Okay, that’s fair.” He looked around at the others. “So, what are you going to do with your powers, and why am I the last to find out about them?”

Emma stepped forward. “She’s going to join me and Taylor in our superhero team.”

He stared at her. “You and Taylor have powers too?”

She nodded. “I’ve had mine for years, and Taylor got hers in January.”

He sat down. “I need to think about this for a bit.”

A tap on his shoulder made him look around; Alan Barnes was offering a glass of bourbon. He nodded thankfully and sipped at it. It seemed to steady him.

“So wait,” he said. “Your girls had powers for months or years.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you both knew about it.”

“Sure,” said Alan. “I was there when Emma triggered, but Taylor decided it would be better to tell Danny. And as she knew about Taylor, and Taylor knew about her, we both decided it would be better for Danny to know about their powers.” He indicated Danny. “We’re sort of making plans to be a support system for them when they go out using their powers.”

“Which is where I come in,” agreed Madison’s father. “And now that Madison has powers, I’m in the loop.”

“You’re in the loop if you want to be,” amended Danny. “If you don’t want anything to do with it, then you can sit out.”

“Hell no,” said Madison’s father. “My daughter’s going to be a superhero? I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” He looked at Madison. “You’re set on this, right?”

Madison nodded. “I was gonna be going out with Mr Hebert and Mr Barnes before I got powers. I wanted in on this, even then. And now ...” She held out her hand; an almost-visible ripple of air expanded out in all directions, lifting dust right across the room.

“Okay,” said her father. “If you’re going to do this, do you have at least a cape name and a costume?”

“Not a costume, as yet,” admitted Madison. “But the others are still working on theirs too. But I got a name.”

They all looked at her.

She grinned proudly. “Aerodyne.”

***

Three Months Later

“Attention shoppers.”

It was a lazy Wednesday afternoon at the Weymouth shopping mall. Teenagers loitered in the food court, bored housewives shopped for groceries, and more than one store clerk eyed the clock, wishing that the hands would tick around just that little bit faster.

“We would like to direct your attention to the display going on in the centre stage.”

One of the guards watching the TV consoles in the security station frowned. Something had flickered across one of the screens. And now they were going dark, one after another.

“Hey, big man.”

The voice was so unexpected that he did not feel alarm as he turned, frowning. The taser darts struck him in the shoulder, and the current sent him tumbling to the floor.

The teenage girl grinned as she used his own cuffs to secure him. Then she kicked him a couple of times in the ribs. Her shoes were soft-toed, and he had enough weight on him that she couldn’t do him any real damage, but it felt good.

“That’s right, mall pig,” she muttered. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Or to put it another way, if you don’t go to the centre stage area, we will hunt you down. And you don’t want us to hunt you down. That’s a guarantee.”

Shoppers looked around as the shutters on the outside exits to the mall began to rattle down. The initial response was huh? I didn’t think it was that late.

And nor was it; the time was barely half past three, still a full hour and a half before closing time. But yet, the shutters were indeed closing.

In the security station, the teenage girl attached a modded-up tablet to the computers with a cable, and started entering commands, her fingers virtually blurring over the touch screen. One by one, the disk cabinets that contained the amassed thousands of hours of security viewing started whirring, erasing the last hour of footage from all the cameras. And nor would they record anything else, until someone got into the system and untangled the spaghetti that she had just made of their programming.

She grinned widely. They would have to reformat and start fresh, because not only would she leave the programming in ruins, but there would be viruses and other booby-traps waiting for anyone trying the fix the system.

“When I screw with something,” she muttered, “it stays screwed with.”

“In case you’re wondering, shoppers, yes, the Weymouth Mall has been taken over by villains. And also in case you’re wondering, the seventy-three people who just dialled 9-1-1 are going to be horribly disappointed when their calls do not go through. Seriously, people, we planned for this.”

The statuesque woman was leaning back on the manager’s chair with her feet on his desk, getting dirt on his paperwork. Well she didn’t care about that. It wasn’t her paperwork.

Beside the paperwork was a glossy black dome, with the number ‘73’ showing in red LEDs. It dropped to ‘72’ and then ‘71’, and then the numbers cascaded down as people hung up their useless phones.

Synth, she thought, you’re a fucking marvel. It’s well worth your attitude for the toys you bring to the team.

She grinned as she lifted the mic and cleared her throat. “When you get there, I would suggest that you have your valuables and wallets ready to be collected by my loyal minions. Please do not hold anything out from us; the cleaners here work very hard, and it would be a pity to make them clean your blood from this nice clean floor.” She paused. “Also, shop clerks? Bring the contents of your cash drawers. All of it. We will know if you try to screw us over.”

She glanced over at the manager – fat, fortyish and utterly terrified – as he lay slumped against the wall of his own office, duct tape securing his hands behind him and a piece over his mouth ensuring that he could do no more than whimper.

“So, fat boy,” she said, putting the mic down. “How’s your day going? Because mine’s going pretty fucking well so far.”

He didn’t even bother trying to answer her; the loudest noises he could make were ineffectual mumbles and snorts, and she had nearly fallen off the chair twice with laughter, until he had given up trying to protest.

Her grin widened. Fat boy had a moustache. He’d lose that whenever someone ripped the tape off. She wished she could be here to see that. But of course, she’d be long gone.

She picked up the mic again.

“Oh, and by the way? The police are not coming. Nor are the PRT, the Protectorate, the Wards, or the Boy fucking Scouts for all I care. Not a one of them. No-one’s coming to save you, boys and girls and chicklets. You’re locked in here with us. And we’re gonna take you for every thin dime we can.”

It really was a great plan. Mayhem was proud of it. None of your usual big-ticket high-profile targets. A shopping mall, that was the thing. Hundreds of thousands of dollars flowed through places like that every week. Hell, if each of the two hundred stores in the mall had two hundred dollars on site, that was forty thou right there, not counting the money they’d pull in using Synth’s little bag of tricks.

She tapped the radio earpiece she wore. “Synth, status on the sheeple?”

***

Synth grinned, her fingers rippling over the tablet. The security monitors showed up just fine now, run by her system’s software. “Just fine, momma bear,” she answered. Mayhem didn’t like the nickname, but who gave a flying dog-turd about that? “Most everyone is coming along nicely, but I think I saw three girls duck into the girls’ bathroom next to the bakery. I figure they think to hide out there until we’re gone.”

***

“Is that so ...” mused Mayhem. “Jag, go to the girls’ bathroom on the mezzanine level, next to the bakery. Any girls in there, bring ‘em to me. I’ll be in centre stage. They try to avoid paying their due, they end up as an example “

She smiled to herself. I’ll let Creeper deal with them. It won’t be fatal, but it’ll be a salutary lesson to the rest of them. She shivered, not from fear and not from cold, but from a certain prurient anticipation; she could never do it herself, but she found that she enjoyed watching Creeper do it to others. I suppose it comes from watching all of that ultra-hardcore Earth Aleph hentai anime.

She licked her lips. I wonder if Synth has ever watched anime like that?

I wonder if she’d like to watch it with me?

She swung her legs off the desk and stood up, stretching. “Time to go to work, honeybunch,” she said to the manager. “I’m sure someone will be along in good time to untie you.”

Humming a jaunty tune, she left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

***

Jag grinned as he headed for the appropriate bathroom. He liked hurting people. Men, women, old folk, kids, it didn’t matter. His power didn’t work so good on living flesh as it did on inanimate shit, but what the fuck, it worked.

He didn’t bother pushing the door open; he just put his hand on it, exerted his power … and it flew apart, large pieces clattering in the short corridor beyond.

He stepped past the ruins of the door, approaching the doorway that led into the ladies’ bathrooms themselves.

And then a girl stepped out and looked at him. “Excuse me,” she said. “Hello? Ladies? Gents is down the hall.”

She was a looker; very nice figure, good rack on her for all that she was maybe seventeen. Red hair that flowed around her face. A long coat or something, over something skintight. And ...

Oh shit. That’s a mask.

He clawed for the radio. “We got –“

Emma’s hair lashed out, stretching to cover the twenty feet that separated them, coiling around his legs and arms. The radio was plucked from his hand and brought back to her.

“Hi,” she said. “Call me Sparx.”

And the hair fluouresced, and a taser-jolt hammered his consciousness into oblivion.

In Sparx’s hand, the radio emitted a tinny voice. “Jag, this is Mayhem. Repeat your last.”

Emma was tempted to reply with some witty quip, but then she thought, Why warn them?

But the radio was useful. She hooked it on to her belt, then looked back into the bathroom. “Seriously? You guys aren’t costumed up yet?”

“Done, now,” said Taylor, fitting her helmet into place. Madison was smoothing the weave of the flowing gossamer silk fabric about her.

“Swarm?” Emma asked Taylor.

“Collecting,” Taylor replied. “I got some in the corridors, but not enough for a good read.”

“Let’s do this,” said Madison.

***

“Momma bear, I got three capes, repeat three unknown capes, exiting that bathroom. Jag ain’t comin’. Looks like he’s down.”

Mayhem came to a dead stop. “Fuck. Descriptions?”

“Okay, okay. Cape one has a red and black skintight, no particular theme, under a long coat. Her hair’s all over the place. Maybe ten feet long, maybe tentacles. Redhead. Matches a news description of the one who took down Lung, three months ago.”

“Okay, cape one is priority target. Others?”

“Cape two is wearing a red and black outfit ... maybe themed as a ladybird? Red with big black spots, anyway. Skinny, but the costume’s got a little bit of bulk. Maybe armour, maybe just padding. Can’t get a read on powerset. Might be a tinker, might be something else. Ladybirds are kind of generic.”

Mayhem nodded. “Okay, and cape three?”

“Also NFI, momma bear. All sorts of flowing stuff, like she’s wearing about fifty yards of white cotton candy. No idea how that shit does not get in her way. No read on powerset. Could be any-fucking-thing.”

Mayhem sighed. “Roger, Synth. Repeat, to all concerned, cape one is priority target. Oh, and cape one, if you can hear me, priority target means we give you to Creeper first.”

***

Madison stared at Emma. “They know we have a radio?”

“Not hard to figure it out,” said Emma. “If they’ve got someone in the control booth who can watch the monitors, then they can look at us. And they know their guy went in and we came out. So.”

She looked at Taylor. “Got enough bugs to cover the cameras?”

Taylor nodded. “Can do.”

“Know what I’m wondering?” said Madison.

“What’s that?” asked Emma.

“Who or what Creeper is,” said Madison.

“Oh, yeah,” said Emma. “That is a bit of a worry.”

***

Synth swore. There was a moth on the camera she was using to observe the three mystery capes. She looked at the other screens. In fact, there were bugs crawling on the camera covers of nearly every pickup in the complex. Her ability to see anything of any fucking use whatsoever was being rapidly degraded.

She picked up the radio. “Momma bear, I got a read on the ladybird cape. I think she’s an insect controller. We got bugs on all the camera pickups around the building. Right now, I can’t see shit.”

“Roger that,” replied Mayhem. “All points, cape two is also priority. We need our eyes, people.”

***

Taylor’s eyes opened wide. “Shit,” she said. “I think I just tipped my hand.”

Emma frowned. “I think it was a ‘damned if you use it, damned if you don’t’ state of affairs. How’s the rest of your swarm going?”

Taylor nodded. “Building up nicely. They sealed the place to people, but not to bugs.” She turned to Madison. “I’ve got them following up in the roof space. I might need you to make a hole in the ceiling if something goes bad.”

Madison nodded, lips pressed tightly together. “I can do that.”

Emma stopped, and put a hand to her arm. “Aerodyne, are you good?”

Madison looked at her. “No. I’m fucking terrified. But I wouldn’t be anywhere but with you guys, even now.”

Emma pulled her into a hug. “Thanks for being here, Mads. We couldn’t do it without you.”

Madison relaxed into the hug. “Thanks, Ems. That means a lot to me.”

“Uh, guys,” said Taylor, “not to break up this moment or anything, but there’s something coming.”

“Define,” said Emma, stepping away from Madison and letting her tendrils flow out a little farther.

“Small, fast, buzzing. Bigger than an insect, flying.”

“What,” said Madison, “like a remote controlled –“

***

Synth grinned as her remote drones swept around the corner. She was controlling them from the one keyboard, drawing the feed to three of the useless screens, using a complex algorithm that she had devised; she told the group where to go, and they applied their tactics to what they met.

She put targeting pippers on capes one and two as they looked up at the drones.

“Hahahhaa!” she crowed, finger mashing the button she had designated as “fire”. “Eat hot leaden death, intruders!”

***

“ – helicopters!” shouted Taylor. She saw them, four of them, sweep around the corner in tight formation. They rotated and translated, and she distinctly saw small gunbarrels point toward her and Emma.

And then Madison gestured, and a wind roared up out of nowhere, smashed the choppers against the ceiling, then against the floor. Sparks popped; smoke trickled out.

“Nice one,” said Taylor.

Madison grinned nervously. “Thanks.”

They moved on.

***

“What. The. Fuck?” snarled Synth. “Momma bear, they just fucking trashed my choppers.”

“All of them?” asked Mayhem.

“Fucking Huey, Dewey, Louie and Donald,” confirmed Synth. “Came at them, the one in the white did something with her arms, and then the choppers went up and then they went down. Fucking game over.”

“Tech buster? Machine control? Magnetism?” surmised Mayhem.

“Fucked if I know,” snarled Synth. “But when you give that bitch to Creeper, I wanna fuckin’ watch.”

Fuming, she went back to her keyboard.

***

“I’m really not liking the sound of this Creeper,” commented Emma.

“Me neither,” said Taylor.

Madison said nothing. She shivered.

They moved on.

Part 8