One More Trigger Pt 23 (Patreon)

Emily

Director Piggot moved the mouse and clicked the 'Accept' button, allowing the last picture to bloom into existence on her monitor. Four of them, all looking back at her, via the webcam perched atop her monitor like a malevolent one-eyed vulture. She carefully avoided looking at it, preferring instead to observe the faces of her fellow Directors.

“Okay, Emily, you got us into this meeting. What's the problem?”

That was West; his face stared back at her from his quarter of the screen. A tough man, heavy set, with close cropped greying hair. Regional Director of the DC contingent under Costa-Brown, he had a tough act to follow; the rumour was that the Chief Director never forgot a name, a face or a detail. Figures that he's the one to start pushing.

“One of my problems,” she enunciated carefully, “is the Samaritans.”

“The Samaritans?” That was Hearthrow, over in Chicago. “I'm not familiar with them.”

“New team in Brockton Bay,” offered Armstrong, in Boston. “From what I hear, they've been making waves.”

“Weren't they called Team Samaritan?” interjected Wilkins, from the New York office. “Pretty sure that's what I heard.”

“I've been advised by our team liaison that they prefer to be called 'the Samaritans',” Piggot told them. “But I didn't call you up to debate the name. I'm concerned about the waves they are making.”

“Wait, you gave them a team liaison?” Armstrong looked surprised. “They're that effective?”

“They're that worrying,” Emily corrected him.

West cleared his throat. “Is this something we should be concerned about?” By which he meant 'should I get the Chief Director in on this?'

“I don't know,” Emily told him. “That's what I called this meeting to discuss.”

“So fill us in,” invited Hearthrow. “I do remember hearing about them now, but details escape me.”

“Bunch of teenagers, right?” asked Armstrong. “Started with three girls?”

“Originally, yes,” agreed Piggot. “But now they have a fourth member, as well as two liaisons. Plus another one who's already helped them out a couple of times.”

Wilkins held up a hand. “Whoa, hang on, back it up a little. A fourth member? Two liaisons? Names and details would be handy.”

Emily sighed. They should have gotten this material already. “Okay, they stopped a bank robbery and captured one of the members of the gang, but instead of handing her over to the authorities, they instead inducted her into the group -”

Four voices stopped her, all shouting at once. She badly wanted to close her eyes and rub her forehead, but she restrained herself. This is going about as well as I expected.

<><>

Riley

Bonesaw's eyes flicked open, then immediately shut again.

She kept her mind clear for the moment, assessing her surroundings.

Face down, lying on concrete, hands secured behind back. Ankles fastened together. Not rope, not twine, not handcuffs … plastic zip-ties. Doable.

Carefully, she rolled her head very slightly to one side, slitted an eye open. Blue sky, but not in direct sunlight. Outside but under cover.

Question one: am I the only prisoner? Question two: who captured me? Question three: where am I?

Deliberately, now, she allowed memory to cascade, from her last five minutes of consciousness.

Pulling into the school parking lot in the RV.

If she rolled her eye a little and moved her head just a little more, she could see the rough asphalt of the parking lot. And that would be the back end of the RV. Right. I'm there. Outside the school. Top of the steps. Under cover, still air around me. I can work with that.

Okay, so what happened after that?

Walking into the school, hand in hand with Mr Jack. Looking around to see what we could see. Leaving the spider-bots to guard the RV.

Tiny sting in side of neck. Reaching up to rub it. Realising that something was wrong, too late.

Everything going dark.

Mr Jack.

What happened to Mr Jack?

<><>

Emily

“You set them up to go after Coil?” West's tone was disbelieving. “As bait? With a Ward along?”

Emily's patience was fraying. “Have you seen the footage of the Weymouth incident? Those three girls, with no prior field experience, took down a gang of criminal capes with no casualties among either themselves or the bystanders. And then, when the bank they were in got robbed, they took control of the situation, got the bystanders out of the way, engaged the Undersiders, and beat them. Decisively. That's one of the reasons I had Vista assigned to them as a liaison. They're good at what they do.”

“But now you're wondering if they're too good.” That was Wilkins. “Which, I have to say, is a valid concern. Given their almost prescient capability against the Nine.”

“Wait, wait,” protested Hearthrow. “You're unhappy because they actually succeeded, and took the Nine out of the picture?”

“It wasn't just them,” Armstrong pointed out. “New Wave and the Undersiders participated as well, if my information is correct.”

“Yes,” Piggot replied. “Exactly. They coordinated this. The Undersiders are the gang that Tattletale used to belong to; she called them in on this.”

“Which was a good thing, right?” asked Hearthrow. “Surely it saved lives.”

“Yes,” sighed Emily. “But it leaves us in debt to them. The PRT and Protectorate were blind, crippled, hardly able to react. The Samaritans stepped up and dealt with the problem. A bunch of teenagers dealt with the problem before it even had a chance to become a problem.”

“The problem being that the Slaughterhouse Nine were an S-class threat,” West replied slowly. “Now that the Samaritans have been shown eminently capable of taking them down, how much capability are they still hiding, and should they be considered such a threat, in and of themselves?”

“Before we really get into that,” Wilkins decided, “maybe we should look into the methods they used to take down the Nine. How did they even do it? Jack Slash is one slippery customer.”

Emily nodded. “Jack Slash, Bonesaw, and Burnscar were all taken down with an exotic venom delivered by bug sting,” she reported. “Mannequin, at the same time, had all his moving parts seized up when glue was injected into the sockets of his carapace limbs. The Siberian was also taken down; I don't yet have the exact details on how that happened.” She paused, allowing comment, but no-one seemed to have anything to say. “Hatchet Face was electrocuted by Sparx. He did not survive. Shatterbird was engaged and killed by four members of New Wave; Glory Girl, Lady Photon, Laserdream and Shielder. And Crawler was engaged by the Undersiders and subdued by Panacea. Who is currently the New Wave liaison with the Samaritans.”

Armstrong looked intrigued. “Tell us more about these bugs. I'm presuming the bug girl – Ladybug – was controlling them. Where did she get them from? Is she able to shape them to her needs?”

“No, as it happens,” Piggot told them. “This is to be kept strictly between us, by request. It turns out that Panacea is capable of more than just healing. According to Vista's report, she's able to take insects and modify them so totally that they're effectively an entirely new species.”

“And what about larger creatures, such as humans?” Wilkins looked unhappy. “And why did she keep it a secret for so long?”

“Personal choice, apparently.” Piggot frowned slightly. “I wasn't any happier to hear about it than you are. As for larger creatures, she's able to heal injuries and cure diseases in humans. There's no indication that she's able to do anything more than repair the results of old injuries and correct genetic deformities. It might be actually related to the size and complexity of the human brain; she's unable to affect that in any way.”

“So she says,” growled West; his tone was distinctly dubious. “If she'll lie about one thing, she'll lie about another.”

“If you'll recall,” Emily snapped, her temper getting the better of her, “Panacea has put herself out there and shown up to the aftermath of every Endbringer battle since she gained her powers. She has already healed countless people of every conceivable injury, save those of the brain, and any disease you can care to name. I believe that she's earned a certain amount of leeway.”

“Fine,” conceded West. “What's this exotic venom? And how did Mannequin get glued up? I doubt he would have allowed people to get next to him.”

“Believe it or not,” Emily told him, “it's called 'poison arrow frog' venom … “

<><>

Riley

Bonesaw could see her captors now; two teenage girls, in costume. One had long, flowing red hair that moved by itself, and the other was a brunette with a costume made of layers of a diaphanous material. Sparx and Aerodyne. Poop. We've been captured by the Samaritans.

It must have been Ladybug who got me. A bug of some sort, loaded with … hm. Not curare, or I'd be paralysed. In seconds, her mind went through dozens, hundreds of poisons, cataloguing her lingering symptoms, comparing. Huh. Batrachotoxin. Tricky. Loaded into insects somehow – ah, of course. Panacea. She joined as a liaison. She modified the bugs. Probably modified other bugs to do other things. Wow. I am so jealous. They get to do all the fun things.

Sternly, she brought that line of thought to an end. The girls were looking the other way momentarily, so she rolled her head to the right, risked a glance, then rolled it back. The one glance was all she needed. Mr Jack. Unconscious or faking it, tied up.

No, if he was conscious, he'd be talking. Trying to talk his way out of this, to get the upper hand. He's real good at that. She'd seen it many times before.

She bit her lip. I really should have given him the treatment that let him neutralise toxins like I do. I'll do it, as soon as we're out of here. The bite signalled the catalysts buried deep in her lungs to start converting nitrogen and carbon dioxide to nitrous oxide and carbon monoxide; in effect, she was exhaling laughing gas. She, of course, was immune to it. Mr Jack would ignore the effects; he found everything to be a giant joke anyway.

Not much air movement. The gas will linger. If they breathe it for awhile, it'll put them off their game, lower their guard. Give Mr Jack time to come around. In the meantime, I can work on these zip-ties. If I'm lucky, I can nail one or both of them, wake Mr Jack up myself.

It was a plan. She flexed the fingers of her left hand; acid started seeping out from under the nails. Bending her wrist farther than it really should be able to go – she'd spent an idle afternoon redesigning it to do just this – she started brushing the acid on to the plastic ties.

Of course, she didn't want them paying too much attention to her. Her spider-bots were all down, most major systems fried, but she could make them wriggle just a bit. A distraction at the right time is all I need.

<><>

Emma

Hatchet Face lay a little apart from the live captives; Emma had gotten a tablecloth from the RV to cover his face. She didn't like to look at him, at the twisted expression that his violent death had bequeathed him. That she had done to him.

The fact that she hadn't had much of a choice, that he had literally been just seconds away from hacking them both to pieces, wasn't much of a comfort. She suspected that she would have nightmares about this day.

Something caught her eye, distracting her. "Did you see that?"

Madison glanced back at her. "See what?"

"Spider-bots just moved. Go check it out."

Madison didn't move from where she was sitting on the steps, leaning against the rail. "Don't feel like it. You do it."

The corpses of the spider-bots lay in a tangled heap; when they had opened up the RV, the 'bots had come leaping at them, but Emma had practised for just such an occasion, and apparently the 'bots were quite vulnerable to electricity. Still, they were creepy as all fuck. Still are. She was sure that one of them had just shifted.

"No, you do it," Emma told her. "Team leader, remember."

"Don't care," Madison told her lazily.

Emma eyed the pile of 'bots again. Maybe I imagined it. Eh, who cares.

<><>

Taylor

“Wow, Taylor, you missed everything!”

Taylor blinked and looked around as she descended the stairs once more. With the exodus of Sophia's cronies – following Sophia's own exit, somewhat beaten and battered – from Winslow, while the rest of the student body hadn't exactly clustered around her, some had tentatively extended offers of friendship. Offers which, due to her improved self-esteem – being a well-known superhero was great for that – she had accepted. Now, she wouldn't say she was one of the popular kids, but she wasn't so unpopular either. Emma was one of the more popular girls, and her known friendship with Taylor hadn't hurt matters either.

“Oh, hey, Charlotte,” she greeted the dark-haired girl. Charlotte was also one of the few, apart from Emma, who had been willing to speak to her – albeit rarely – before Sophia's expulsion, so Taylor held her in a certain level of regard. “What'd I miss?” She looked around at the excited, jostling crowds where the halls should have been empty. “What's happening?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Charlotte told her airily. “Except, you know, we got attacked by the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

Taylor shook her head. “Nope. No way. You're not getting me with that one.”

“No, seriously, we did.” Charlotte's voice was earnest.

Taylor shook her head again, putting on an amused look. “I'm calling bullshit. That shit does not happen while I'm in the bathroom.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Taylor. The world does not revolve around you.”

“Granted,” agreed Taylor, “but I am going to continue to call bullshit on the Slaughterhouse Nine. What's really happening?”

Greg Veder bounced up to them in his typical bumbling fashion. “Hey, Taylor!” he greeted her. “How awesome was that? I saw the whole thing!”

Which, Taylor noted, was bullshit. Greg hadn't been anywhere near the action. Which was lucky for him, for reasons of not being killed in one of several gruesome ways.

“Saw what whole thing?” She leaned in close to Greg. “And if you say 'Slaughterhouse Nine', I am going to smack you.”

“But it's true!” he protested. “They were here! Tell her, Charlotte!”

“Oh, for god's sake,” protested Taylor, enjoying herself immensely, “if the Nine really were here, how come the school's still standing? How come we're all still alive? How come we still have windows? I mean, there isn't even any damage.”

“Fine; you want damage, I'll show you damage,” Charlotte told her. “Come on.” Brooking no resistance, she captured Taylor's hand and towed her down the corridor and around the corner. There, surrounded by gaping students, a chunk of the next corner had been removed, as if something unstoppable had simply smashed on through instead of going all the way around.

Taylor knew who had done this – Siberian, of course – but she goggled all the same. “Holy shit,” she gasped. “What did that?”

“Crawler,” Greg stated authoritatively.

Charlotte shook her head. “The Siberian.”

“Fuck.” Taylor shook her head. “You weren't kidding. Who stopped them? Where did they go?”

“It was Team Samaritan who stopped them,” Charlotte supplied. “Sparx and Aerodyne, I think. I saw them carrying Mannequin and Hatchet Face outside. They're waiting for the PRT.”

Which were inbound, Taylor knew. Helicopters for fast response, trucks and armoured vehicles for heavier firepower. Which, hopefully, would not be required for this particular encounter with the Nine.

She frowned. “Wait. You said the Siberian made that hole, but you didn't see her being carried out?” Don't show that I know more than I should.

Charlotte shrugged. “They probably made a trip while I was still hiding.”

“No, no, see, the Siberian's a teleporter,” Greg told them self-importantly. “I read it on the PHO boards. When she saw the way it was going, she probably just left.”

Taylor and Charlotte stared at him. Charlotte managed to speak first. “Seriously? Have you joined the Merchants?” In Winslow, this was equivalent to asking What the hell are you smoking? “That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard.”

“Yeah,” agreed Taylor. “The Siberian doesn't leave. She kills everyone first, who hasn't already run away. No-one's ever managed to beat her. She even killed Hero.” She looked at Charlotte. “So how did the Samaritans manage to beat her?” She paused. “I mean, they're cool, and I so want to get Aerodyne's autograph, but … how the fuck?”

“Team Samaritan,” Charlotte corrected her. “And they beat the Siberian by being fucking awesome. At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.”

“Maybe they signed her up on the team,” offered Greg. When they turned to him, both beginning to speak at the same time, he rushed on. “Hey, there's precedent. Everyone on the PHO boards knows that they've already signed up Tattletale after beating the Undersiders at that bank robbery, and then taking down Coil.”

Charlotte looked blank. “Who's Tattletale?”

Taylor shrugged. “Search me. Sounds like someone Greg made up off the top of his head.”

Greg was beginning to look frustrated. “She's real, dammit. Look on the PHO boards. She's posting as All Seeing Eye. This was just about the time that Vista was made a liaison to the team.”

“Wow, Greg,” Charlotte commented, “you sure know a lot about the business of Team Samaritan. Are you sure you're not a member?”

Taylor shook her head. “Can't be. Last I heard, they were all girls. Unless there's something you're not telling us, Greg?”

Greg's cheeks were flaming now; Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “You know, Ladybug wears that bulky armour. She's pretty tall too. She could easily be Greg. What about it, Greg? Cross-dressing for justice?”

“I'm right,” insisted Greg. “You'll see. I'm right.” He stalked off; after he was out of earshot, Charlotte and Taylor burst out laughing.

“That was kind of mean,” Taylor told her friend. “Maybe we shouldn't tease him quite so much.”

Charlotte sighed. “Yeah. There was what happened to you. Okay, I'll go easy on him. But geez, he makes it easy.”

“That's what Sophia thought about me,” Taylor pointed out in a quiet voice.

Charlotte looked a little taken aback. “Oh. Right. Point taken. I'll go apologise for the both of us then.”

Taylor smiled. “Thanks. I'll catch up with you later.”

She watched as Charlotte hurried off, and wandered in the opposite direction. At that moment, the asthmatic PA system crackled to life.

“All students … this is Principal Blackwell speaking … please return to your classrooms … I have been assured that the danger is over … please return to your classrooms … “

Taylor snorted. Yeah, that's gonna happen. When something like this happened, kids were going to rubberneck. She didn't see any of the afternoon classes getting by with anything near full attendance. Especially when some of the kids called their parents about the supervillain attack.

Finding a quiet corner, she pulled out her phone and dialled Emma's number.

<><>

Emma

Just as Emma was considering sitting down as well, her phone rang. She hooked it out, noting the number, and answered with a whimsical grin on her face.

“You've reached the Samaritans. This is Sparx speaking. Who's calling, please?”

There was a rude noise in Emma's ear. “You know who this is.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But it was funny.”

“Hah. Funny is some of the rumours that are circulating about what just happened. I've managed to put on a pretty good bewildered-Taylor act, so no-one connects me with anything.”

Emma's hair checked up on Jack Slash's bindings, as she checked his pulse with her fingertips. It was strong, and even if he was awake again – not that she thought he was – he hadn't managed to compromise the zip-ties. “You put on that act pretty good even with us.”

“Oh, ha ha. Meany.”

Emma chuckled. “You just can't take a joke.”

There was a pause. “Can you put the phone on speaker, get Aerodyne over to you?”

“Sure thing, sister from another mister.” Emma giggled; she thought that was hilarious. “Hey, Aerodyne. The Lady of the Bugs wants to conference.”

Madison climbed to her feet and stepped over. “Whassup, o mistress of bugs great and small?”

“Good one, A-dyne,” Emma told her, and they high-fived.

“Aerodyne, I need you to clear the air.”

“Why, did you fart?” Both girls thought that was hilarious.

“You're making inappropriate jokes. Not taking things seriously enough. I think you might've been drugged.”

“Wow,” Emma observed. “We've been drugged? Wouldn't that be a gas?” She started laughing almost uncontrollably.

“Aerodyne. Do it now now now.” Taylor's voice was sharp, sharp enough to get Madison's attention. The 'now now now' command was one they'd practised responding to immediately.

Emma could feel Aerodyne's power as kicked in; the brushing of air all around her, flickering against her widespread tendrils. A sharp breeze sprang up, kicking up dust and bringing in cool air from elsewhere. She took a breath of the clean air, and another, flushing her lungs with it. The feeling of carelessness, of almost giddy happiness, began to ease away, leaving her cool and clear-headed. And realising just what had happened. “Bonesaw.” She's awake, and she just pulled something. Figures that she'd have herself fixed up to recover faster from toxins.

Her tendrils checked the child's bindings, and to her shock, she found the zip-ties almost corroded away. The tendrils themselves now encircled the small wrists, settling into place. She could feel fingernails scraping against the faux hairs, depositing something on them.

“Won't work,” she informed the kid. “My hair stood up against Lung's fire. Acid, or whatever you're using … nope. And I'd advise you to stop releasing whatever gas you're using. We've got it neutralised.”

The thin shoulders slumped slightly. “Poop.”

Emma's lips twitched in real amusement, this time. “'Poop'? Really?”

Bonesaw wriggled around; the zip-ties parted, but the tendrils tightened slightly. She turned her head toward Emma; blue-eyed, pretty, hair framed by mussed blonde ringlets, she looked adorable. “I watch my language. It's something I've got to do.” She wriggled around a bit farther.

“Sparx, watch out!”

Madison's warning came just in time. Bonesaw's right index finger pointed; now that she could see, she could aim. Emma's hair swept across, making a screen. The fingernail hinged back; something shot from the fingertip, impacted the screen. Reflexively, Emma sent a charge through the tendrils holding Bonesaw's wrists; not enough to kill or even stun, just enough to sting. Bonesaw hunched, grunting, then relaxed again when the current let up. “Gosh darn it to heck. That hurt.”

“Okay, that's it.” Emma sent her tendrils out, wrapping the murderous little munchkin up from head to toe; she was visible from the eyes upward, but that was about it. “From now on, we treat her like anything she could possible attack us with, she will.”

“What's going on?”

With a jolt of surprise, Emma realised that she was still holding the phone, with Taylor on the other end. “Bonesaw's a lot sneakier than I expected. She's built crap into her own body. Some sort of gas designed to make us let down our guard gradually, acid under the fingernails, and a dart-shooter in the fingertip. At least.”

“Christ. Are you all right?”

“So far. Aerodyne's refreshing my air as we speak. I've got her wrapped up like a very cute mummy.”

“Want me to dose her again?”

Emma considered that. “No, hold off. It's probably lost all effectiveness on her, and she might just fake it to put us off guard.”

“Yeah, you're probably right.”

She took the phone off of speaker, held it to her ear. “How's the other guy?”

“Still out. I've got the space surrounding him filled with bugs. Pretty sure he's unconscious, and if he forms the Siberian anywhere near himself, I'll zap him again.”

“Good.” Emma tilted her head. “I think I hear the sirens now. PRT's almost here.”

“Excellent. I'm gonna go be a good little student in class now.”

“You do that. We'll keep a eye on things here.” She put the phone away and glanced at Madison. “Aerodyne, how's Mannequin doing?”

“I'm getting subsonic vibrations,” Madison reported. “Like he's running servos to try to break the glue.”

“Nothing's shaking free?”

Madison shook her head. “Not so far.”

“Good. Keep an eye on him. And me too, just in case Bonesaw tries something else that gets through to me.” She thought about telling Mannequin just how strong the glue holding his limbs in place really was – in the region of five tons per square inch – but she thought better of it. He who gloats, gives away valuable information.

Madison nodded. “Will do.”

“Mffmmwffm.”

The noise had come from Bonesaw. It didn't sound like she was suffocating, so Emma ignored it.

“Fffmwfmffm.”

She's going to keep doing this, I know it.

“Aerodyne, I'm going to talk to Bonesaw. Watch me. Don't let me breathe her air.”

“Watching.”

She reduced the tangle of 'hair' over Bonesaw's mouth to a minimum, while making sure the kid's face was not aimed directly at her. I wouldn't put it past her to have something to spit. “Yes? You had something to say?”

“You don't have to hand me over to the PRT.”

Emma blinked. That was as direct as it came. “Actually, yes, we do.”

“No, you really don't. I can help you.”

“Like you just tried to help me with a poisoned dart just now? And did you really build dart launchers into your fingertips?”

A sigh. “Yeah, I did. You don't blame me for trying, right?”

“Nope. Just like you don't blame me for not believing a word you're saying.”

“But I can help you. I'm an awesome doctor. In fact, I'm the awesome doctor.”

Emma sighed. She was feeling a little tired, possibly the after-effects of the gas she'd inadvertently inhaled. “You also spend your time hurting, maiming and killing innocent people. That's more or less exactly what we don't do.”

“I don't have to do that. It's just what Mr Jack likes.”

The voice was so earnest, so matter-of-fact, that Emma was almost convinced, despite herself. She shook her head. “Yeah, no. You've been doing what 'Mr Jack' likes for six years. I'm guessing that even if you didn't like it from the start, you've certainly gotten a taste for it now.”

Bonesaw shook her head. “I'm not like that, really. I want to meet you guys. I want to meet Panacea. That would be so awesome. I -”

“You can stop talking now.” Emma built up the tendril-gag over her face and stepped away a little, extending the 'hair' as she did so. “Christ,” she muttered.

Aerodyne stepped closer. “What?”

“She's so damn convincing. Just a kid. Gotta be younger than Vista. That innocent act … if I didn't know what she's been doing for years, if I hadn't read the file, I'd be tempted to give her a second chance.”

Aerodyne's hand squeezed her shoulder. “They're not all hulking thugs, you know. Sometimes it's harder to tell who the bad guys are, just from looking.”

Emma grimaced. “Yeah, I know. But I think she just wants to meet Amy.”

Aerodyne shuddered. “Bonesaw, getting a hold over Panacea? No, fuck that.”

The sirens were louder, and there was a helicopter overhead. It began to descend toward the playing field at the side of Winslow. Emma turned to Madison. “You go talk to them; I'll keep an eye on things here.”

Madison nodded. “Just don't breathe the air.”

“Yeah, no crap,” Emma agreed. “I believe that I'll be standing upwind.”

They high-fived one another before Aerodyne went off to speak to the PRT; Sparx continued to watch the captured criminals.

I can't wait to get them off my hands.

<><>

Emily

“ … well,” concluded Wilkins. “I can kind of see why you're less than thrilled. Just the Ladybug/Panacea interaction is enough to make me twitchy. With Tattletale in the mix, as well as whoever's training these kids to professional levels, the Samaritans are definitely more than your average starting super-team.”

“In addition,” West put in, “they've forged ties to New Wave, plus the Wards, and they've got connections to at least one criminal gang.” He paused. “Right now, if you set out to take them down, who do you think would stand with them, who'd be on your side, and who'd win?”

Emily paused to think about that. “If Vista gave us all the information she knows about them, and we managed to pull off a surprise strike, I think we could take them. If they knew we were coming, and if New Wave and the Undersiders stood alongside them … I'm less sure.”

“Wait a minute,” protested Armstrong. “Are we honestly considering pre-emptive strikes against a bunch of teenage girls who've done nothing wrong, just because they're kicking ass smarter and better than we are? Is this us being careful or being jealous?”

That jarred Emily just a little. “I … no, we're not considering a strike. In any case, even if the Undersiders managed to get too much influence over them, Panacea would withdraw, and New Wave would stand on our side.” I hope.

“Well, you've definitely alerted us to the potential problem,” Wilkins noted. “Send any additional material you've got through as you get it. I'll be interested to read it. If there's nothing more … ?”

“Wait,” Emily told them, even as they were preparing to shut down the links. “There is the other problem that I wanted to bring up.”

West made an impatient gesture. “Well, what is it?”

“When Coil was taken down,” Piggot told him, “they found a Case 53 in the base, under lock and key. Quite monstrous. Wilkins, Armstrong, I believe that it might have visited Boston and New York at one time or another, maybe recently. Looks like a teenage girl with a very bulky inhuman lower body. Eats people.”

All four Directors were staring at her now. “It's … there?” demanded Wilkins. “In Brockton Bay?”

Emily nodded. “And I'd like your advice on how to properly deal with it.”

<><>

Victoria

"So where – ungh – is Crawler being shipped off to? And why can't they just cement these chunks of street back into place?"

Glory Girl heaved one of the aforementioned 'chunks of street' – large enough that it would otherwise have required the attentions of a forklift – on to the back of a flatbed truck, then stood back and dusted her hands off as Browbeat assisted Manpower with another one. The teen Ward was ludicrously over-muscled, almost as wide as he was tall, but Vicky knew that his personal skin-level TK field was doing most of the work.

"Crawler's destination is classified," Armsmaster informed her. "It's best that as few people as possible know about it."

"Probably going to dump him down a really deep hole somewhere," Manpower offered as all three of the heavy lifters set themselves up around a bigger than normal chunk. "Fill it in, and concrete it over."

"Filling it in would be a mistake," Browbeat put in seriously. "If the sides of the hole are steep enough, he won't be able to get enough traction to climb out. But he's strong enough to dig his way up through rubble."

"Wherever they take him, they've got about eight hours before he starts to wake up," Amy put in from where she was sitting on the passenger seat of the truck, legs dangling out of the door. She sipped at the hot cup of tea in her hands. "Eighteen before he's fully aware again."

Lisa, leaning against the truck cab beside her, smiled. "Oh, I'm pretty sure they've got a place in mind. Right, Armsy?"

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "Tattletale, I'm aware of your significant contributions toward the public good since you joined the Samaritans. I'm also aware that it was your old team, at your instigation, who got Crawler out of the PRT building, and held him long enough that Panacea could subdue him. But there are matters that you are not cleared to know, and the location that Crawler is being taken to is one of them. So kindly cease hinting and probing into the matter."

Lisa wrinkled her nose at him. “Sorry, wrong cape name. I'm going with 'Athena' for now. Good guy, see?” She gestured at the blue jeans and Alexandria T-shirt she wore, along with the black domino mask.

“We'll see,” he grunted.

Behind her mask, Lisa rolled her eyes, then leaned over to murmur something in Amy's ear. The biokinetic snorted in amusement, then hid her smile behind the cup of tea, though her eyes still sparkled with humour. Armsmaster gave them both a suspicious glance, then quite obviously chose to ignore them.

"One ... two ... three ... Heave," grunted Manpower, drawing Vicky's attention back to the task at hand. She hovered over the hole as she lifted; the other two were standing on solid ground. The chunk of rubble rose off of the ground anyway, and they moved it over toward the truck. The small crowd of onlookers took photos, and she grinned despite the strain. This has got to be the best part of being a superhero. Using powers and looking awesome.

The truck springs creaked and sagged as the new chunk of concrete joined the others, then Manpower pointed down into the hole. "In case you're still wondering, Vicky, that's why we can't just concrete everything back into place."

Vicky hovered over the hole and looked down. There was still a reasonable amount of rubble to move, but it was all small stuff, nothing she couldn't handle by herself. Amy slid off of the truck seat and came over, with Lisa – Athena – strolling casually behind.

It took Vicky a few moments to figure what he was pointing at, but when she saw it, it was obvious. "Electrical cables and ... what are those?" The cables were easy to recognise, sticking out of the broken surface of the concrete, but the other, like a fine bundle of silvery hairs ...

"Optical fibres," Lisa informed her, an instant before Manpower stated exactly the same thing. "Looks like they're gonna have to move the bus stop until all this gets fixed."

Manpower – Uncle Neil – placed both hands into the small of his back and leaned backward, eliciting a cracking sound. "Well, now that we've moved the big stuff, we can let the workmen in to handle that sort of thing." He looked around, at the activity that was already surrounding the damaged frontage of the PRT building. "You did good, kids. All of you. This could've been a lot worse."

"It was worse, on the Protectorate base," Armsmaster reminded him. "We lost people, and we have wounded." He paused, letting the silence stretch out.

Vicky found her eyes wandering to Amy. Normally, her sister would have been stepping forward by now ...

"Oh!" Lisa's voice evinced surprise, although her eyes were bright and her mouth was quirking with far too much amusement for it to be genuine, "Are you trying to hint to Amy that it's time for her to go be everyone's Panacea again?"

Armsmaster was temporarily lost for words. "I, ah ... "

Lisa slid an arm around Amy's shoulders. Mischief danced in her eyes. "Amy and I have been talking. It's amazing how much we've had to talk about. And how long it took me to convince her that she really doesn't need to be at your beck and call, every moment of every day."

"But people are hurt," objected Armsmaster.

Amy cleared her throat. "Is there anyone who'll die if I don't help them? Anyone the doctors just can't help?"

Reluctantly, the armoured hero shook his head. "No, but some of them are likely to lose their eyesight."

"Then I'll look at them later," Amy told him. "When I feel more like it. Just ... not right now."

Lisa's smile became ever so slightly more fox-like, and Vicky saw her squeeze Amy's shoulders.

"I ... " Armsmaster stopped, then began again. "I'll let the Director know."

Manpower was looking at Amy, an odd expression on his face. She stared back. "What?"

"Uh ... nothing."

Nothing, hell, thought Vicky. She was about to say something, but Manpower intervened. "Can I get a lift home, Vicky?"

Vicky held Amy's eyes for a long moment, then looked away. "Sure thing." She gestured at her torn and bloodstained costume. "I need to get home and change anyway. See you later, Ames."

Amy smiled and raised her hand in a little wave. "See you around, sis."

Rising into the air, Vicky grasped her uncle's arms, and lifted him upward. As they took to the sky, the cityscape dropping away, she looked down at him.

“I'm not sure if I like the way Amy's acting around Tattletale,” she commented. “She's a bad influence.”

“I'm not so sure,” he replied thoughtfully. “And it's Athena now, apparently. I think it's good that Amy's asserting herself.”

“Asserting herself, or saying that she's not going to go and heal someone?” Vicky let the concern she was feeling show in her voice. “Because that sets a bit of a precedent.”

“She said she wasn't going to go and heal them right now,” Neil Pelham corrected her gently. “And yes, it does set a precedent. Maybe even a good one. It's important that she not be taken for granted. And this is the happiest, most relaxed, I've seen her in a long while.”

Vicky went to answer, then rethought what she had been going to say. Amy had looked happy. She had smiled, laughed at whatever joke Lisa had made. There was a subtle tension that had been a part of her for so long that it was only notable by its absence. It hadn't gone away, not altogether, but it was somewhat diminished, leaving behind a subtly different person.

Maybe I've been too close to her all this time, Vicky considered. Now that she's hanging with a different crowd, I might finally get to see the person behind the facade.

It was something to think about. 

Part 24