I, Panacea Pt 17 (Patreon)

Amy was used to spending time in school with people who knew her heroic identity. However, there were a few differences in this particular instance, each of which contributed toward a somewhat surreal experience.

In the first place, while everyone at Arcadia knew who she was, they were also accustomed to her presence. Nobody found it odd that Panacea was sitting at the next desk over; people would borrow a pencil off of her or lend her an eraser, without making a big deal out of it.

While she usually had Vicky nearby, this was not always the case. But even when Amy's super-strong sister was elsewhere, nobody hassled her or asked for an autograph. Someone wanting a selfie with her or Vicky was not an unusual occurrence; at one time, such photos had been common, with some people not even bothering to ask permission first.

The latter practice eased off when Brandish made a formal complaint to the Principal's office. There were still a few who didn't get the message, but when Vicky made a point of crushing their phones and cameras in her bare hands, even that had stopped.

But that was Arcadia. This was Winslow. She wasn't in costume which helped a little; given how much of her face it covered, she was actually less recognisable than most of New Wave, despite being the most famous healer in the world.

Wow. I'm guessing you're kind of sick of that phrase.

Yeah, I guess. It was nice at first to know that so many people thought I was so special.

But then you learned that 'special' meant 'never be able to quit', yeah?

She had long since stopped wondering where he got all of his unique knowledge about her situation. It was still a little weird when he referred to things that she'd only ever thought about in the privacy of her own mind.

Are you sure you can't read my memories? She hoped like hell that it was still the case, because otherwise she'd be blushing all day long. Nobody's uncensored memories should be put on public display, especially those of a teenager.

Absolutely certain. What I know about you is … well, it's from a unique source. One I can't tap from here, unfortunately. But like I said before, I can only really 'read' the thoughts you're thinking at the front of your mind. Background stuff, I can hardly even notice it's happening.

Right. Okay. So what do I need to be worried about? What do I need to watch out for?

“Where are we going now?” she asked out loud. “I kind of don't have any books.”

Taylor, striding alongside her, grinned. “Pretty sure they won't actually ask you to do any work. Or if they do, you can borrow mine.”

Wow, she's definitely in a better mood. Oh, and to answer your question, I'm thinking not overt pranks. You might not be able to punch through a brick wall, but you have someone on speed-dial who can. I'm guessing they'll go for a whispering campaign. They might even try to turn the gang kids against you.

It was taking all the concentration she had to keep the two halves of the conversation in order. “Uh, thanks,” she said, in reply to both Taylor and Michael. Turning to Taylor, she went on. “You're definitely looking happier than you were earlier.”

“Yeah, well, then I thought that you and Glory Girl had punked out on me. Like everyone else who ever promised to help.” The flash of bitterness made Amy wince. “But then you showed. And even if we lose, the school can't ignore this shit any more. Not when superheroes are getting involved.”

As one of the superheroes involved, Amy felt a flush of pride. “I just wish we didn't have to, to stop this sort of thing going on. I mean, if even one percent of this happened at Arcadia, to anyone, there'd be a metric ton of trouble landing on all concerned. Including any staff members who might've seen something but failed to do anything about it.”

Taylor sighed. “Oh, God. I only wish.” A faint crease marred her brow. “I just hope that they get the message and back off.”

“Which reminds me,” Amy said, recalling Michael's words. “Remember the guy I told you about on the bus? Security? He said they might try a whispering campaign, or even turn the gang members against us. Against me.”

Now Taylor did look a little concerned. “Ooh. Yeah, maybe. Hopefully not, though. With any luck, any gang kids she talks to won't be that stupid.”

Great. Now she's banking on the inherent intelligence of teenagers who've already joined a criminal gang.

Amy grimaced, acknowledging Michael's point. “Uh, they're gang kids. And we're depending on them to be smart?”

Taylor didn't look thrilled at all, but she nodded. “As much as I hate to say you're right …”

“Not me. Michael.” Amy glanced around, trying to spot anyone who might be looking at them with particular malice. “Though I agree with him. It's not a great assumption to base our safety on.”

When Taylor spoke next, there was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. “So we improve our chances. We might be alone in a school that doesn't care about our well-being – okay, my well-being – with a bunch of gang kids who might well be incited to move against us at any time, but there's nothing to say that we can't take precautions.”

Okay, there's the Skitter that we know and love.

Why did I just get a bad feeling about this? Out loud, she asked, “Uh, precautions?”

Because you're a thinking, intelligent human being. I'm reminded of the quote from Watchmen.

Taylor's grin was now showing a few more teeth than normal. “Just keep your head down and follow my lead, okay?”

“Uh, okay.” Amy was starting to wonder what she'd gotten herself into. Is she going to do something supervillainish? And who are the Watchmen? Are they a cape group I've never heard of?

Most likely. And Watchmen is a graphic novel that got made into a movie. They probably made it in Earth Aleph. There's a psychotic vigilante in there who says something like this: “I'm not locked in here with you. You're locked in here with me.”

Oh, yeah. Getting a really bad feeling about this.

He responded with a chuckle. Knew you were a smart cookie.

But what can she do without outing herself?

Trust me. With Taylor, there are ways and there are means.

Somehow, this failed to reassure her.

<><>

Amy watched as the art teacher turned the sadly battered model of the Rig over in her hands. Miss Simone, as she preferred to be called, was a peroxide blonde, almost as skinny as Taylor, with hair that flared out from her head in all directions. Her fingers were long, with tiny cartoon decals on the nail extensions.

“But what happened to it?” the teacher asked, almost plaintively. “The last I saw of it, Taylor, you were doing wonderfully.”

“My backpack got, uh, mishandled,” Taylor told her woodenly. Amy winced, knowing what 'mishandled' really meant. “I'm sorry.”

One garish fingernail tapped a purple stain. “This isn't mishandling, Taylor,” Miss Simone said sternly. “What is this? Fruit juice?”

If anything, Taylor became even more wooden. Amy got the impression that the taller girl had been through this many times before. “Uh, yes. It got poured into my backpack.”

Amy had had enough. “Miss Simone, Taylor's not telling you the whole story. There's three girls who are bullying her. They trapped her in her toilet stall and poured juice and soda over her.”

“Oh.” Miss Simone switched her attention to Amy. “That's very serious. Did you see this happen?”

“No.” Amy set her jaw. “But she told me about it.”

“Well, thank you, Panacea, for bringing this to my attention.” Miss Simone turned brightly back to Taylor. “Did this really happen?”

“Uh …” Taylor glanced at Amy, who nodded encouragingly. “Uh, yeah. It happened.”

“Well, if you can tell me their names, I'll take that to the principal,” Miss Simone declared.

“She already knows,” Taylor mumbled. “I just wanted to let you know why I wouldn't be handing it in on time.”

“Oh.” To Amy, Miss Simone seemed oddly deflated. “Who are these girls? Are they in this class?”

“No, they're not.” Taylor spoke quietly but deliberately. “Their names are Madison Clements, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess.”

Amy watched the teacher's face as the names came up. Madison didn't elicit much of a response. Emma got a widening of the eyes, but it was Sophia's name that got the most telling reaction. Upon hearing it, Miss Simone's face simply … went blank. She knows that name, all right. And she's been told that Sophia's something special.

Are we surprised?

Not really.

“I see,” Miss Simone said, and that was it. “Well, Taylor, I'll give you until Tuesday to fix your project, but I'm afraid I'll have to take ten percent off your mark for tardiness.”

“But that's not -” began Amy.

“Thank you, Miss Simone,” Taylor said, deliberately talking over her. “Come on, Amy. Let's sit down.”

Amy wanted to keep talking, to make the teacher see that it was unfair to penalise Taylor for what the bullies did to her, but this wasn't her school and it wasn't her fight. So she followed the taller girl to a pair of adjoining desks near the back of the room, where they took their seats.

“But that's not fair!” hissed Amy, keeping her voice down. “They ruined your art project, not you!” She couldn't understand why Taylor was taking the down-marking so calmly.

Taylor grimaced. “Uh, the juice was them,” she said, just as quietly. “But the actual damage happened when I kind of lost my temper and threw my backpack across the room afterward.”

Amy blinked. “Wow. Sorry. I thought it was them for sure.”

“No.” Taylor shook her head, a wry grin on her face. “That bit was actually my fault. I should have chucked something less personal.”

Amy was fully aware of the consequences of losing her temper while using her powers, and Taylor's could barely be any less dangerous. So she understood the slightly sheepish look that the taller girl gave her. The girls caused that outburst, but just like I've got to keep a grip on my temper, so does she. The consequences are too great to do anything else. But it looks like she knows that already.

Yup.

Wait, did you know about that?

Sure. His 'voice' was matter-of-fact. Why?

She channelled some of the aggravation she was feeling into her reply. Why didn't you give me a heads-up? I just looked like an idiot in front of Taylor.

But now, instead of me spoon-feeding you everything, you're finding out from her. Getting her to open up is a good thing.

She wanted to be angry at him for blindsiding her. The fact of the matter was that he was correct, as much as it aggravated her. This is you making sure that I connect with her on a personal level, isn't it?

Mayybe. She'd heard that innocent tone a hundred times from Victoria.

You suck.

Undoubtedly. But I do appreciate the way you're willing to stand up for Taylor. Pretty sure she does, too.

Well, now that I see the place, and the people, I can understand how hard it's been for her not to retaliate.

Not quite the hardened criminal, yeah?

Her aggravation had eased off, but she felt justified in a mildly sarcastic response. I'd already figured that out. There was no reply, so she turned her attention to the outside world.

Taylor was looking over the model, her expression rueful. Amy leaned over toward her. “Is it fixable?” she asked quietly.

“I guess,” Taylor conceded. “But I'm going to have to take it apart. Which means tearing it. I had toothpicks giving it internal strength, and I'm pretty sure that they're mostly broken.” She rubbed uselessly at a juice stain. “And this stuff will never come out.”

“So we fix it,” Amy declared. “We've got till Tuesday, after all.”

Taylor's startled look made her grin.

“What, you'd do that?” Implicit was the question don't you have better things to do?

Amy held out her hand. “Give.”

Her face a study in curiosity, Taylor placed the model in her hand. Amy turned it over, examining the juice stains.

Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?

Probably. Now shush. Amy licked her thumb, then waited for a moment before rubbing it over the purple mark. At first nothing happened, then the mark faded, becoming almost indistinguishable from the off-white of the heavy cardboard from which the model had been constructed.

Niiiice.

Amy allowed herself a tiny internal smile. Unable to resist a slight flourish, she handed the model back to Taylor. “I can do the same for the glue, if you want. That'll let you take it apart and glue it back together properly.”

Her satisfaction grew as Taylor examined the place where the stain had been. “How did you do that?” asked the bug controller.

“Micro-organisms,” Amy explained cheerfully. “We have something like a hundred trillion on or in our bodies at any given time. I gave my thumb a fresh coating and changed them to something that would eat dried fruit juice then die. Glue's organic. We can do the same for that, as well.”

“Sure, that's -” Taylor looked around as Miss Simone began the class. “- something we can do later, I guess.”

“Okay, sure.” Amy turned to face forward, keeping her face impassive in spite of how pleased she was feeling at the moment.

That was nice. I approve. Also, kind of awesome. Micro-organisms for the win.

His approval sent a warm glow through her. Thanks.

This was the most she'd used her powers for something other than healing in years, and it was fun.

<><>

English class at Winslow was about as boring as it was at Arcadia. The teacher, Mr Robbins, was tall and bland, with sandy hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. Amy had tensed up when she saw Madison and Julia in the classroom as well, but they did nothing more than shoot hostile glances toward Taylor and Amy.

As for the subject itself, Amy wasn't too bad at it, but it wasn't exactly her favourite. Taylor, on the other hand, seemed to be in her element. Far from retreating into her shell in the presence of her tormentors, she put up her hand for every question, and seemed to be able to answer every one correctly.

Amy wondered if Taylor wasn't being a little foolhardy, drawing attention to herself like that, until she realised what the other girl was up to. If the teacher's looking at her, those two can't pick on her.

And if they do try to pick on her in class, that gives both of you more ammo at the meeting. Michael seemed pleased with the situation.

Did you know she was going to do that?

Nope. But it's a smart idea.

Won't they try harder because of this?

Think they would've left her alone?

You've got a point. But there was still one more thing that Amy was wondering about. Michael no doubt had the answer, but he was encouraging her to talk to Taylor, so she waited until Mr Robbins was writing on the board..

“How do you know all this stuff?” she asked quietly.

“Mom used to teach college-level English,” Taylor explained. “She got me into reading at an early age. When they couldn't get a sitter, she'd have me sit up at the back of the classroom with crayons. Sometimes I'd draw, but other times I'd listen. I picked up a lot of stuff, that way.”

Amy tried to imagine doing the same with her mother's line of work. Sitting at the back of the courtroom, picking up a working knowledge of the law. Somehow, she suspected, she wouldn't do as well at it as Taylor was doing with English.

Turning back from the board, Mr Robbins held up a dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. “Everyone has been given a copy of this book for the semester. Who's actually read it so far?” From the tone of his voice, he didn't expect many people to respond.

Nor did Amy; she had tried to get into it once upon a time, but found it supremely dull. Not very much to her surprise, however, Taylor's hand went up almost immediately. Hers was the only one.

“Taylor, uh, Hebert, isn't it?” Robbins asked dubiously.

Taylor nodded. “Yes.”

“And you've read it all the way through.” His tone indicated that he thought otherwise.

“Yes.” Amy saw the animation on Taylor's face. “It's a very interesting story.”

“Indeed it is,” Robbins agreed. “Can you tell the class what costume Scout wears to the Halloween party?”

Glad he's asking her and not me. I didn't even know there was a Halloween party in there.

Yup. She went dressed as a -

“A pork chop, sir,” Taylor said promptly.

- pork chop.

“Hmm.” Mr Robbins rubbed his chin. “Well, that's correct.” He turned to stroll back to his desk.

What, you've read it too?

Several times. It's actually got interesting parallels to the social situation here and now.

Wait, wait, wait. Where you come from, you've got our books there too?

Well, yes.

“Next Friday,” Mr Robbins said, momentarily distracting Amy, “I'll want a fifteen hundred word essay from everyone on To Kill a Mockingbird, drawing contrasts between society as depicted in the story and the modern world.” The bell began to ring as he finished; chairs scraped on tile as students came to their feet. Raising his voice, he went on. “Taylor, could you stay back a moment, please?”

Taylor turned to Amy. “Go on ahead. I'll catch up.”

Amy shook her head. “No. I'm staying right here.” How is that even possible? You're from a different dimension!

Yeah, I am. But I can't tell you any more. A full answer would totally screw up your worldview. At best, you would think I was pulling your leg. At worst … I don't want to think about 'at worst'.

She tried to make sense of what he was saying. So your world is an alternate of ours, like Aleph?

For a long moment, he hesitated. Given a certain definition of 'alternate' … yes.

Are you going to tell me what that certain definition is?

No. That one word had a blunt finality to it, quite unlike his previous openness with information.

Before she could figure out what to say next, the last of the students filed out, leaving her in the classroom with Taylor and Mr Robbins. The teacher approached Taylor while Amy looked on.

“Taylor, up till now, I've been disappointed with your work,” he said bluntly. “You hand in hastily-written assignments, or you hand them in late or not at all. Normally, I'd be putting it down to a lack of competence or interest in the subject, but today's performance tells me that's not the case. What's going on?”

Amy watched Taylor gather herself. “Are you sure that you want to know?” Amy could read the subtext. Because up till now you've been willing to write me off.

The flicker of a glance that Robbins sent toward Amy gave her the rest of the picture. And he's only talking to you now because I'm here. Lovely.

Welcome to Skitter's world.

Amy could see what he meant. I can see this environment producing a villain. Even if she intends to be a hero.

“Yes. I do.” Robbins spoke firmly.

Wait for it …

Wait for what? She's standing up for herself. This is great.

Just wait. His voice held a certain amount of resignation.

To her credit, Taylor's voice was steady. “Are you aware that Madison Clements has been stealing my assignments and presenting them as her own, or simply destroying them before I could present them, for the last year? Or that Julia Morrow's been assisting her, along with some others?”

His eyes widened. “Really? That's … very out of character for Madison. She's a sweet kid. I have trouble believing that.”

Amy cleared her throat. “You could check the handwriting, at the very least.”

“I could do that,” he said to her, then looked back to Taylor. “Can you name the others?”

Even before she started speaking, the corner of Taylor's mouth took on a bitter twist. “I can. Are you familiar with Emma Barnes or Sophia Hess?”

Shutdown in three … two … one …

Again, Amy saw the impact of the two names. Mr Robbins' expression changed, becoming almost unreadable. “I … yes, I am. Those are very serious charges. Are you willing to take them to the principal's office?”

“That depends.” To Amy's ear, Taylor's voice was almost challenging. “Are you willing to look into it, or just sweep it under the carpet?”

“That's not a good tone to take with me on that,” he snapped. “If this has been such a problem, why haven't you reported it by now?”

“I have. Repeatedly.” The challenging tone was definitely evident, now. “Twice, to you. The first time, you asked Madison about it. She lied to your face and batted her eyelashes. Julia backed her up. I was the one who got in trouble. The second time, you didn't even bother pretending to believe me. After that, I stopped trying.”

He looked more than a little taken aback. “I don't recall any of that. You're making it up.”

Amy decided to weigh in. “Says anyone, ever, who's been caught out and doesn't want to admit it.”

“Unless you've got proof of your allegations,” he snapped, “then they're nothing but libel and slander.”

“Why, Mr Robbins, I would've expected more from an English teacher,” Amy retorted, trying not to raise her voice. I need to sound like a hero, not like a shrill teenager. “Taylor hasn't libelled you at all, and if it's true, it's not slander. Now, are you going to take what she said seriously, or are you going to ignore her, again?”

“Both of you, out of my classroom, now,” he said, clenching his fists. “I'll be talking to Principal Blackwell about your behaviour.”

We'll be talking to her about a hell of a lot more than that. Amy opened her mouth to say exactly that, but Michael got there first.

Don't say a word. Let's go.

What? Why?

I'll explain once we're outside.

Okay, but it better be good. Amy put her hand on Taylor's shoulder. “Come on, let's go.”

Taylor nodded curtly. “Okay. Fine.” She stalked from the room without another glance for Robbins.

“Panacea.” It was the first time that the teacher had addressed Amy by name. “Please, wait. I was a little hasty, there.” His tone had moderated, a lot.

Wow, I wonder if he realised that he just booted a cape from his classroom.

I don't give a damn. Amy's fists were clenched, and she realised that she was gritting her teeth. Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Please, just a moment. Please?” Robbins' tone was now almost pleading.

Maybe you should see what he has to say.

Maybe I don't care.

You know and I know that it won't change your mind, but it might be useful to let him think that it will. Michael's voice was calm, reasonable. She hated to admit it, but he had a point.

Okay, fine. We'll do it your way.

Stopping in the open doorway, she turned toward Robbins. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry for the way I spoke. May I offer my apologies?” If Amy didn't know better, she would have said his tone was actually humble.

“You may.” Not gonna say I'll accept them.

“Thank you.” He looked relieved. “May I speak with you for just a moment?”

She looked at him. He was standing by his desk, without offering to go to where she stood.

Should I talk to him?

Let him say his piece. Then judge the crap out of him.

She almost smiled, but managed to keep it in check. Okay. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at where Taylor stood outside the classroom. “I'll just be a second,” she said.

“Okay.” Taylor moved back toward the doorway.

For her part, Amy headed over to the desk. “Yes?” She tried to strike a tone indicating neutrality.

Robbins glanced at where Taylor stood just inside the doorway, and lowered his voice. “I understand that you're here on her behalf, but … she's a loner. A troublemaker. I've heard things about how she makes up accusations to deflect blame from herself. Like just now.”

“Really?” It was a lot of work to keep most of the scepticism she felt out of that one word. Some leaked through, however.

“Really.” He didn't seem to have noticed it. “You're a great superhero. I mean, you've got a great future in front of you. If she's just an attention-seeker, this could only cause you problems.”

“Thank you.” She did her best to keep her disgust off her face and out of her voice. “I'll keep that in mind.” And I'm not about to forget what you said to Taylor, either. Jerk. Turning her back on him, she walked from the room. Taylor stepped out of the doorway to make way for her.

And she sticks the landing, with a nine point five, a nine point five, and a six point five from the East German judge. Michael sounded amused. Amy couldn't quite figure out what he was talking about, but she got the gist.

Shush, you. He couldn't tell sarcasm if it … if it … She floundered, looking for a simile.

Ran up his leg and bit him on the bum?

Taylor stood waiting for her to catch up, looking more than a little pissed. However, this turned to confusion when Amy started giggling uncontrollably.

<><>

It took her a few moments to regain her composure, during which time they began to stroll in the general direction of the cafeteria. Taylor shot her a glance loaded with what Amy had little trouble deciding was amusement. “You okay now?”

“Yeah, I'm good.” You're bad.

Well, duh.

Why didn't you let me tell him about the meeting with Blackwell?

The less he knows, the less he can spin things to make himself look better. If someone changes their ways just because they know authority is looking, there's every chance in the world that they'll change back when they know they're not under scrutiny any more. Blindsiding him is much better.

Oh.

And much more satisfying.

Amy felt herself smiling. You have a really good point.

“What are you grinning at?” That was Taylor. “Is there a joke I don't know about?”

“Not really,” admitted Amy. “Michael was just pointing out why it's a good idea not to tell the teachers about the meeting. Blindsiding them is a lot more fun than letting them have any warning.”

“Well, yeah,” agreed Taylor, bumping Amy's shoulder with hers. “Trust me, I know how hard it sucks to have shit happen when I'm not expecting it. It's good to be able to inflict it on others for once.”

“He's still probably going to bitch to her about us.” Amy felt that it should be said.

Taylor nodded. “True. But because you didn't tell him, he took the chance to say something bad about me behind my back. Which you can now use to point out just how sucky the staff here is. Teachers gossiping about students? So wrong on so many levels.”

Amy frowned. “I never told you what he said.” We were right across the room. Was she reading lips, or listening in with her bugs?

Probably neither. She doesn't know how to read lips, and bug senses suck to the point that she can't listen to conversations with them yet.

Wait, what do you mean by 'yet'?

Nothing. But his tone meant anything but 'nothing'.

“Oh, puh-leeze.” Taylor's voice was thick with sarcasm, echoing Amy's own thoughts, for entirely different reasons. “Exactly what else was he gonna say? Let me guess, I'm a loser loner who tells tales about being bullied and tries to get the popular girls in trouble?”

That was eerily close to the mark. Amy looked at Taylor with new respect. “Almost word for word. You just left out the part where you might get me in trouble if I kept defending you.”

Taylor chuckled darkly. “Oh, of course. The best way to disarm me is to separate me from all support. Wonder if he'll ever realise that he's basically trying to do what Emma's been doing all this time?”

“Don't know. Don't care.” Amy shrugged. “Fuck 'em all. I'm sticking right by your side.”

That got her a briefly startled look from Taylor, followed by a shoulder-bump. This time, Amy bumped her right back.

<><>

Amy looked at the lunchtime crowd in the cafeteria. To her trained eye, the divisions were clear to see. The Empire had a certain section of the cafeteria to themselves, as did the ABB. The Merchants were less picky about things, spreading here and there without caring much about where they sat. Then there were the non-gang-related cliques, segregating themselves against outsiders just as clearly as the gangs did.

Brockton Bay in miniature, Michael commented.

You're not far wrong, Amy agreed. All we need now is Uber and L33t.

Oh, that's easy. Greg Veder.

Who?

If you're lucky, you won't meet him.

Oh. Okay. She stepped into the cafeteria proper, then noticed that Taylor hadn't followed. “What's the matter?” she asked, turning to look at the other girl.

“I don't eat here,” Taylor said. “It's too easy for someone to 'accidentally' spill their drink or something over me. Or over my backpack.”

“Jesus, they don't even let up on you in here?” Taylor grimaced; immediately, Amy regretted the hasty statement. “Okay, yeah, that was kinda naïve of me. I'm still coming to grips with how far out of their way these bitches are willing to go in order to bully you.”

“So how do they handle shit like that in Arcadia?” Taylor's voice was distant. Amy wondered if she was using her bugs to scout for trouble. Then she wondered how many bugs she was using to scout for trouble.

Amy shrugged. “Oh, uh, if there's trouble between students, the principal checks the security camera footage before talking to them separately. Clear-cut cases of bullying end up in detention. If it keeps up, suspension and expulsion are brought on to the table.”

Taylor focused on her, now apparently interested. “And if it's not clear-cut?”

“If it can't be determined who's at fault, teachers are told to keep an eye on them in class. With the heightened scrutiny, if either one tries to cause problems again, they come down on them hard.”

“Wow, I wish it worked like that here,” sighed Taylor. “That's what they said they'd do, after … well, you know.”

She didn't elaborate, but Amy figured it out easily enough. The locker?

The locker.

“And of course, they didn't.” Amy shook her head, not knowing what to say. “Christ, if something like that happened in Arcadia, everyone involved – you know, except the victim – would be either in detention, suspended, or expelled. Probably the latter, unless all they did was stand and watch.”

“Arcadia sounds nice.” Taylor's voice was wistful.

Amy grinned. “Well, you know, they do have rules. Like no cell-phone use in class.”

“Wouldn't matter to me. Don't use one.” Amy saw Taylor's mouth tighten.

Oh, right. Yeah. Great going, dumbass. “But anyway,” Amy forged on, “I didn't bring lunch, so I'm gonna have to buy some. And I'm gonna sit right here in the cafeteria and eat it. And you're gonna sit with me. Okay?”

For a moment, Taylor seemed to be about to object; Amy wondered if she'd pushed the other girl too hard. Has she really been abused so much, that she doesn't dare eat in public?

Well, basically, yeah. She's used to finding hiding places to eat, then rotating them when the girls find her and pick on her while she's eating. Like last week, she was eating in the bathrooms and they held the stall shut and poured juice and soda over her head and into her bag.

Was that when her art project got damaged?

That's the one.

Holy shit. “Hey,” she said out loud. “Okay, look, we don't have to. We can get our lunch and eat elsewhere if you want.” Where's a good place?

I used to eat mine on the front steps.

Okay, that sounds as good as any.

“No,” Taylor stated almost angrily. “No. Like you said, fuck 'em. If you're gonna eat in the cafeteria, I'm gonna eat in the cafeteria.” Something like a grin passed over her face. “Besides, someone's got to look after you.”

Amy raised her eyebrows. “And here I thought I was supposed to be looking after you.”

“Against the bullies, sure.” Taylor's explanation was almost casual. “But only a Winslow student knows where not to sit in the cafeteria.”

That, Amy decided, was a very good point.

<><>

“So, how's the mystery meat?” Taylor seemed to be somewhat amused. Justifiably so; she had pulled a bag lunch from her backpack and was eating a pita wrap.

Next time I come to Winslow, I pack my own lunch. Amy was very definite about that.

Well, yes. Michael seemed to be sharing Taylor's amusement.

Amy prodded the meat-like substance doubtfully with her plastic fork. “I'm not sure if whatever this came from even existed in nature.” Touching it with her forefinger didn't give her any more of a clue; fortunately for the health of the Winslow student body, it didn't hold much in the way of live organisms. She doubted that there was much in the way of nutrition, either. “Well, I guess it won't kill me …”

“That's the spirit.” Taylor took another bite of her wrap, then paused after swallowing. “Don't look around, but we've got a bunch of Empire guys glaring at us. Your ten o'clock.”

Amy rolled her eyes but kept her voice down. “How do you expect me to not look around once you've said something like that?”

“I thought you should know – shit, I said don't look around!”

Fuck it. Amy turned her head to see the table full of shaven heads, all the people on it looking her way with more than a little hostility. She picked out the oldest one by eye and locked gazes with him for just a moment. Then she turned back to Taylor. Let's see what happens.

The taller girl was staring at her as though she'd grown a second head. “What the fuck? You don't do that! That was a flat-out challenge!”

Uh, she's kind of correct. What was that about?

First: they might be Empire but I'm a cape. Second: I'm tired of people telling me what I can't do. Third: we both know that if they start anything on me, Kaiser will have their balls by the end of the day.

There was a new tone of respect in his mental 'voice' when he replied. Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay, I hope you're reading this one right.

Believe me, so do I.

“It was deliberate,” she murmured to Taylor. “What are they doing now?”

“Uh, one of them's getting up and coming over.” Taylor didn't look at all comfortable with the situation; Amy didn't blame her. “I think we should just go.”

“No.” She put her hand on Taylor's arm. For a moment, she was tempted to dial back the amount of adrenaline in Taylor's bloodstream, but she restrained herself. That sort of thing needs to be consent only. Michael didn't comment, but she felt the warmth of his approval. “I got this.”

Timing her move with the widening of Taylor's eyes, Amy turned as the boy she'd locked eyes with approached. Unhurriedly, she stood, bringing her eye level closer to his. He was still taller than her, but not by a lot. “Can I help you?” Her tone was polite, but disinterested rather than dismissive.

“You're Panacea.” He spoke loudly, uncaring of whoever heard.

He's putting on a show.

I know. Shh. “Yes.” While his stance was aggressive and bullish, hers was relaxed, arms at her sides. “I'm aware of this. What about it?”

“What's a superhero like you doing in a shithole like this? Getting dirt on us?”

She shook her head. “Nope.” Not that it would be hard, but … “I'm not here for that. Right now, I'm just doing a favour for a friend.” The 'friend' being Taylor, but they don't need to know that.

… I think he was put up to this. The way he came up to you, he knows Glory Girl isn't gonna interfere.

I think you're right.

“For a friend, huh?” He gestured toward Taylor, adding a sneer for good measure. “She a hero, too?” Keep it together, Taylor …

Amy moved forward, into his space, but she didn't raise her voice. “No. She isn't a hero. She's just someone I'm looking out for. I'm not here for you. I'm not here for the ABB. I'm not even here for the Merchants. So long as you leave me and her alone, I'll leave you and yours alone.” She leaned forward so that only he would hear, and hoped that he didn't catch the quaver in her voice. “And Kaiser doesn't have to hear that you've annoyed me.” This has gotta be the second stupidest thing I've ever done. She offered a sugary sweet smile that she didn't mean. “Understood?”

Stupidest being the fire extinguisher?

Yeah. She could feel her heart pounding as she waited for the skinhead to react. Her fingertips were twitching, other muscles tensing oddly, out of her control. Is that you?

Yeah. His 'voice' was tense. If he swings a punch at you, I'll get skin contact and you can do the rest.

It wasn't a solution she liked but it was a solution. However, she liked hers better. Unless he's a total idiot, he's gonna cave. Kaiser doesn't stand for this shit and he knows it.

Good point.

The Empire guy's eyes opened wide for just a second; Amy figured she knew exactly what was going through his head. Then he re-established his habitual glower. “You just stay out of our way, then,” he grunted, and turned to stomp back toward his table.

Amy watched him go, then let herself slide back into her seat. The tension started bleeding out of her muscles. Despite her still-pounding heart, she forced a smile on to her face for Taylor. “See? Told you I had this.”

“And what if you hadn't?” Taylor didn't seem thrilled about it. “Those guys are dangerous. They carry knives. I'm pretty sure the top guys, like the one who just came over, have guns.”

Which your power can't really protect against. Like, at all.

“They weren't going to make a move against me,” Amy insisted. “If they'd done anything more than talk and Kaiser heard about it, he'd have their guts for bungee cords and they knew it. They just wanted to know what I was here for.” She paused, thinking about it. “And correct me if I'm wrong, but I got the distinct impression that the only reason that guy even came over is because he thought I was here to hit the Empire. Which is totally fucking ridiculous. I am not a front-line cape.” She flicked a glance at the table with the skinheads. They were laughing and joking among themselves again. So far, so good.

“Unless he heard someone spreading the word that that's what's going on,” Taylor said slowly. “And I can think of three suspects, right now.”

Amy's eyes widened. It didn't just sound possible; it sounded plausible. Except that … “They'd have to know they'd be putting me in danger, and you with me, by spreading that story.” She rubbed her fingertips over her forehead. “Would they really go that far?”

“More like, they'd expect you to just leave once you were confronted,” Taylor pointed out. “But hey, they've been getting away with shit like you wouldn't believe for more than a year. What's one more drop in the bucket?”

Amy grimaced. “Well, all I can say is, I can't wait for the meeting to start.”

“Me neither,” Taylor agreed. Amy appreciated the sympathetic look the taller girl gave her. “And I want to say thanks again for putting up with this shit for me. It means more than I can say.”

This time, Amy's smile was genuine. “That's okay. I'm guessing that you had something in store for if that guy had actually attacked me?”

Taylor nodded seriously. “About three dozen wasps and hornets. He wouldn't have known what hit him.”

“Aww, that's so sweet.” Amy chuckled quietly. “I've never had anyone threaten to sic bugs on someone for me.” It would've outed her for sure, but she still would've done it to save me.

Yeah, total villain material, hey?

Shush, you.

Taylor grinned back at her. “Hey, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

Amy found the imagery intensely amusing, and broke down into giggles. A moment later, Taylor joined her. The release of tension was good, and they both started eating again. However, Amy couldn't help worrying all the same.

I wish Vicky was here. They wouldn't even think of bothering us then.

Hm. I dunno. Might be a good thing that Collateral Damage Barbie's no longer on site.

Yeah – wait, what did you call her?

His mental voice held a grin. You heard me. Tell me I'm wrong.

She barely avoided shaking her head. Oh, god. How did you even come up with that one?

Oh, it's a nickname that some of us use for her where I come from.

Wait, what? Amy stared at nothing, shaken to her core. There's more of you?

Um, yeah. He paused, almost evasively. There's dozens, I guess. Hundreds. Billions, if you count the ones who don't do what I do.

I don't even … She paused, trying to comprehend the situation. And they can all just poke their noses into our world and pop up in our heads?

For a long moment, he didn't answer. It's really hard to explain. The best answer for your question is 'yes, but no'. Remember what I said about how telling you too much would screw with your worldview? This is part of what I can't tell you about.

Had his 'voice' been light-hearted and joking, as it sometimes was, she might have pushed the issue. However, this time, his tone was serious enough to make her think twice.

Okay, I guess I can respect that. But really? A bunch of people who know about Vicky and me, and who else?

Well, basically everyone on Earth Bet worth paying attention to, I guess. The information isn't comprehensive or all-encompassing, but I did pick up some more during my last time here.

Sometime you're going to have to tell me what you mean by that.

Someday I might. Just not today.

Amy pursed her lips. Okay, that's fair. So their nickname for Vicky is what again? Collateral Damage Barbie?

It's one of the more flattering ones, yeah.

And me? Do they have nicknames for me? She braced herself for whatever he might say.

Nothing too bad, actually. 'Pan-Pan' is the most common one. Though there's a lot of back-and-forth about why you don't just, well, go all out. Some people think you're a bitch, some think you're basically sandbagging, and some think you could own the world in a week if you really tried. But those are kind of the radicals.

And you? What do you think? She didn't want to ask the question, but she couldn't not ask it, either. Nor did she want to think about the potential repercussions of her using her powers unchecked.

His reply came without hesitation. I think you're a nice kid who never had a chance for a normal life. You found your dad at five, lost him at six, got ignored till you triggered with powers, and you've been shat on from a great height ever since. It's not uncommon for powers to not actually fix problems, but yours actually managed to magnifythe shit you were going through. While pretending to do the exact opposite.

For just a moment, she was stunned by his insight. She had never put it into words precisely like that before, but it was exactly how she felt, deep down. She did, however, feel the need to say something in her sister's defence.

It hasn't been totally terrible. Vicky's always been there for me.

True. And when she got her powers, she got her aura. And there went a large chunk of your free will. The worst part is, she still doesn't know she was doing it.

But if I tell her, she'll be totally horrified.

And if you don't, she'll just keep doing it. Oh; one other thing.

That sounded ominous. What?

She's terrified of being mentally controlled. I suspect that's why she got the aura when she triggered.

Oh. Oh, god. Amy could see all sorts of problems coming out of that.

Yeah. So if and when you talk to her about the aura, it might be an idea to be really careful about it.

“Earth Bet to Amy. Come in, Amy.”

Amy started as Taylor interrupted her reverie. “Sorry, what?”

Taylor grinned across at her. Amy could see the glint of mischief in her eyes. “You've been really quiet, and I'm pretty sure it's not because you're loving the cafeteria food. What are you thinking?”

Amy paused to gather her thoughts. “Oh, uh, just talking, actually. To Security. Michael.”

“Oh, right. The voice in your head. Still not sure what to think about that.” Amy couldn't quite figure out Taylor's expression. “Did you ever find out where he came from?”

Amy hesitated, recalling Michael's words on the subject. “It's … kind of complicated.”

Taylor's grin was infectious. “I'd be astonished if it wasn't. Anyway, you want to walk and talk before classes start again?”

Amy nodded. “I think I'd like that.” And let us never speak of the mystery meat again.

I still say it was an alien life form.

But it showed no signs of life that I could detect.

By now, she knew he was joking. What part of 'alien' did we not understand?

<><>

Bakuda

There were three of them in the jeep. Oni Lee sat on one of the rear seats, silent and unmoving. Some guy, whose sole reason for being there was that he had a driver's license, sat behind the wheel. Bakuda herself leaned back in the passenger seat, hard at work.

Carefully, she eased the bomb she'd been working on into the forty-millimetre grenade-launcher casing, then screwed it into place. Squinting with her left eye caused the goggles she was wearing to zoom in, allowing her to connect up the detonation mechanism just right.

“This is Number Seventy-Three, on the corner of West and Fairfield.” The voice that came over the radio was high-pitched; either a young teenage boy or a woman. She didn't know or care who it was; all she gave a damn about was whether they did what they were told once she'd implanted their cortex bombs. Screw recruitment; I'll go with conscription any day.

Holding the grenade in one hand, she scooped up the radio mic from the dash in the other. “Bakuda. What've you got, Seventy-Three?”

“I can see her. The dog girl. Bitch. She's walking north along Fairfield with three dogs. She's not looking at me.”

“If she knew you were reporting to me, her dogs would be all over you.” Bakuda knew that her voice modulator wouldn't allow a scornful tone, but she tried for one anyway. “Bakuda to everyone in that area. Converge, but don't get too close. We don't want to tip her off.” Clipping the mic back to its holder on the dash, she slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Get us moving, for fuck's sake.”

“Y-yes, Bakuda!” he blurted, twisting the ignition key. The engine roared to life, the driver grinding gears in his haste to get moving. A moment later, they were off, homing in on Rachel Lindt, otherwise known as 'Bitch', of the Undersiders.

<><>

Three Hours Ago

“The plan is simple,” Bakuda had told her conscripts, enjoying the way they eyed her nervously. “You all spread out around the area where they've been seen the most. When one of you spots them, you call in the alert and follow them. The rest of us converge on that area. At best, you keep tabs on them. At worst, you engage them until I get there with Oni Lee. We'll end the fight. Any questions?”

There were none. It seemed that her 'no fucking moronic questions' policy was finally showing its worth. It had only taken two guys melted, one turned to glass, and a fourth blown into pink mist before the others decided that they could keep their questions to themselves. About fucking time.

<><>

Now

A male voice came over the radio. “This is Fifty-One. I've got a view of her. She's turning west on to Colson.”

Bakuda finished screwing the grenade together and handed it back over her shoulder. Oni Lee took it and carefully slotted it into the box that held the rest of them. The Tinker took the mic from the dash once more. “Follow her, don't lose her, but for fuck's sake don't alert her. Keep an eye on those damn dogs. If they start growing, assume she's seen you.”

There was a map stashed in the centre console; pulling it out, she unfolded it part way, then looked up to check on the street sign. Stabbing a finger at the map, she shouted, “Down this way, then right on to Hawthorne!” Behind her gas mask, her grin was downright predatory. After I get Bitch, I get the Undersiders. Make an example of them, then bust Lung out. By the time I'm finished, nobody is gonna be messing with the ABB.

The jeep took the corner on to Hawthorne at a moderately unsafe speed; she grabbed for a handhold. Suspiciously, she glanced at the driver for any sign of amusement at her expense, but he was completely focused on the road. He knows I want to get there fast. Okay, fine, he gets to live for now.

“Lee!” she shouted over the roar of the engine. Turning her head, she saw the painted mask angle in her direction. He didn't answer, but the creepy bastard rarely spoke. “Just remember, we're capturing her, not killing her!”

Bakuda was not great at reading body language, so it was probably just her imagination that made her see disappointment in his posture. Still, it was important that he followed the plan, so she forged on. “We're capturing her alive so we can find out where the Undersiders have stashed the money from the bank job. That way, we can set up an ambush for them. Once we've got them all, then we can kill them. Got it?” She'd explained it all before, seven times, but the guy did tend to be a little forgetful when it came to orders about not killing people. Or maybe he just liked stabbing and blowing up people a little too much. Which she could totally understand.

After a long moment, Oni Lee nodded. Bakuda settled back in her seat, satisfied. I'll give him a couple of them to play cat and mouse with after all this is over. That Tattle-bitch can go to the farm. The rest I'll try out some new bombs on. I'm interested in seeing if that Vista bomb really does what I think it will, and how long someone can live after it goes off.

Picking up the mic again, she clicked the button. “Fifty-One, do you still have her in sight?”

The answer was a lazy drawl. “Sure, I've got her in sight. Fat and happy and stupid, still walking down Colson.”

Bakuda frowned in mixed anger and confusion. I trained my people better than this. The way Fifty-One was talking bordered on insolence. Either that, or a death wish. They all knew she didn't just punish insolence; she made sure it never happened again. She grinned under the gas mask. Making an example of her minions was the fun part of the job. But they still had an Undersider to catch. “Seventy-Three, can you still see Bitch?”

“Yes, I can see Bitch.” Seventy-Three's voice was calm and collected. “Still on Colson. Near Kingswood.”

“Good. Stay on her. We're just coming up to … French. We'll use that to cut her off.”

“Will do.”

“Bakuda, this is Sixteen. I'm on Colson, near Kingswood. I can't see anyone at all.”

Gritting her teeth, she brought the mic up to her mouth again. “Sixteen, rendezvous with Fifty-One or Seventy-Three. They'll be able to point her out.”

“Uh … this is Twenty-Five. I'm, uh, on Colson, too. I think I can see Sixteen, but I can't see anyone with dogs.”

“Wow, are you guys blind? Fifty-One, here. Bitch is right there. Three dogs. Are you sure you can't see her?”

Before Bakuda could muster another reply, the jeep hurtled around another corner. This time, she was braced for it. However, up ahead, there was someone who shouldn't have been there. A stocky auburn-haired girl, wearing camo pants, heavy boots, a flannel shirt tied around her waist, and a man's sleeveless undershirt. Bakuda knew exactly who she was. The dog girl, Bitch. Mounted on one enormously enlarged lizard-rhino-dog, with two others flanking her, running directly toward the oncoming jeep. Grue was mounted on one of the other dogs, trailing a cloud of blackness. On the third, Tattletale and Regent rode double. The former raised a radio to her mouth. “Seventy-Three here. Surprise.”

Bakuda's mind, too stunned to properly encompass the situation, threw out fragments of thought.

What the fuck

She shouldn't be here

They lied

Then realisation sank in. It was a trap.

The driver immediately hit the brakes. Bakuda was already holding on, so she didn't face-plant the windshield. As the jeep rocked to a halt, she unsnapped her seat belt and pulled herself to a standing position, snatching up the grenade launcher. Bitch was about twenty yards away and closing fast. Bakuda raised the launcher to her shoulder and sighted in on the chest of the lead dog. Fuck it. All at once works for me.

As she was about to squeeze the trigger, the boy in the Ren Faire costume gestured. Her arm convulsed of its own accord, jerking the launcher around until it pointed straight down between her feet. Then it fired.

Fucking Masters.

Her last coherent thought was that she hadn't thought to put a minimum arming distance on her pain bombs.

<><>

Tattletale

Random queries continued to spill out of the radio that Lisa still carried; Alec had since discarded his. They cautiously circled around the jeep, looking outward for signs of danger. There were only two people in the vehicle.

Lisa looked more closely. Bakuda and the driver were both twisted into almost impossible poses, with only minor twitching showing signs of life. She'd seen the blast go off, with all three caught in it. Oni Lee was now gone, leaving a pile of ash behind.

“Will he be back?” That was Grue. “And what was that?”

Lisa let her powers expand and take in the scene. “Pain bomb,” she reported. “Causes intense agony throughout the central nervous system. He teleported away after the blast hit, but I doubt he'll be much good for anything else for a while.”

“Right.” Grue looked at Bakuda and the driver. Lisa could see that the latter's teeth were clenched in a rictus of suffering. “Well, shit. We've captured a supervillain. What do we do now?” 

Part 18