I'm HALPING! Pt 6 (Patreon)

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

"Oh, crap." Miss Militia peered into the rear-vision mirror and started to reverse. There was the honk of a horn behind us and she hit the brakes again. Too late; something went crunch into the van from the rear, and we were jolted forward a couple of feet. The engine stalled and died. Somewhere off in the distance, I heard an explosion, though I was pretty sure that had nothing to do with the engine dying.

"Crap, crap, crap." Even as Miss Militia tried to restart the van, she grabbed up the microphone to the two-way radio and held it next to her mouth. "Control, this is PRT one niner four, Miss Militia plus two civs. We're at the intersection of Bakersfield and Phoenix, and there's an ongoing cape fight here. I make it as Hookwolf versus Lung. Casualties unknown as yet. Requesting urgent backup, over." Letting her thumb off the button, she turned her head fractionally toward me. "Don't worry, Miss Hebert. I'll get us out of this." There was another explosion in the distance. Was Lung setting cars on fire to explode the fuel tanks?

The van's engine burst into life with a roar, but when she put it into gear, the engine whined and we went exactly nowhere. "Um, it feels like we're stuck," I said, more from a need to show that I knew what was going on than to state the obvious. Then I had an inspiration. "Zach, you're strong. Could you untangle us from whatever we're stuck to? Without hurting anyone?" That was just in case the driver of the car behind got upset at him. I didn't think he'd lash out if he was insulted, but I didn't want to take the chance, for the other guy's sake.

"Yes, Taylor, I can." Zach was already unfastening his seatbelt as he spoke. "But there are more parahumans on site than just Hookwolf and Lung. Oni Lee and Cricket are also in the vicinity, and people have been hurt. Some are trapped in rubble. Do you wish to help them?"

"No!" snapped Miss Militia. "My primary goal is to get Taylor to safety. Then we'll see what we can do about stopping the fight, or at least establish a perimeter until backup can arrive." She jerked her head toward the rear of the van. "If you can get us unstuck, that'd be very useful."

The radio crackled. "Control to Miss Militia. Do not engage. Return to site of last incident. The Director wishes to speak to you, over."

With a less than pleased expression, she went to speak on the radio again. I caught Zach's eye and pointed toward the back of the van. "Better do what she says," I whispered. Leaning back, I found that there was enough room in the front for Zach to climb out past me along the bench seat without any real awkwardness. To make it easier for him, I opened the door to let him get out. After his feet hit the ground, he closed the door behind him. About that time, I heard another explosion.

"Miss Militia to Control." Her voice was low and steady, showing only the faintest signs of the stress she had to be under at this point. "Update on the fight situation. I've been reliably informed that Oni Lee and Cricket are on site as well. Also, there are civilian casualties and people trapped by debris. Please let the Director know that this is an ongoing crisis situation and whatever he wants to talk to me about can wait. Send backup urgentmost. Over."

The van lurched and I heard the tearing of metal. I leaned forward to try to see if I could spot Zach in the rear-vision mirror. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something appear in front of the van, so I turned my head to look.

It was Oni Lee.

As I watched, frozen, he rolled two round objects under the front of our van. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I knew exactly what they were: Oni Lee was infamous for using grenades. What I didn't know was how well-armoured PRT vans were. Either way, I was pretty sure that two grenades would leave a mark.

"Shit!" Miss Militia screamed the word. In one fluid movement (it was almost as if she'd practised it, though I couldn't imagine that it was a common situation) she undid her seatbelt and flung herself across to cover me. At the same time, she fired three rapid shots through the windshield with the high-powered pistol she was holding in her left hand. The bullet-holes crazed the windshield, sending it instantly opaque so I couldn't see Oni Lee any more. Worse, I couldn't hear anything at all; the three shots had echoed horrifically inside the closed van, leaving me with a loud ringing in my ears.

Abruptly, the entire van lurched, or maybe that was my sense of balance going, along with my hearing. I had no idea which way was up; it felt like I was lying on the back of my seat rather than sitting on the cushion. Distantly, I felt the heavy thump of a concussion. The grenades, I decided fuzzily. I didn't know why we weren't dead, but I was glad of that fact.

The van tilted crazily again, then all of a sudden up was up once more. I felt the van bounce heavily on its wheels. Moments later, Zach opened the door that he'd gotten out by. "Miss Militia!" he said brightly. "Are you well?"

"I think so," she said. Weirdly enough, while his voice had cut cleanly through the ringing in my ears, hers was still muffled to my hearing. "What just happened?" Letting me go, she sat up in her seat and rubbed at her ears.

"The grenades would have hurt Taylor, so I lifted the van out of the way," he replied cheerfully. "But I think the van is damaged now. And there are more people who need help."

"Rule number one of dealing with Lung and Hookwolf," Miss Militia mumbled—at least, it sounded like a mumble to me. "They don't hold back. We can't go in there to rescue civilians until we have someone engaging them." She pressed the heel of her hand against her ear. "And I'm not up to engaging them right now."

"I will engage them so that you may rescue people," Zach offered happily. "Taylor, am I allowed to kill them?"

I was so glad I was looking at Miss Militia's face right then, because it's not often that you get to see a picture-perfect jaw-drop. Even when it's concealed by a scarf.

" … engage all four of them?" she sputtered, once she'd regained the power of speech. "You can't be … uhh …" It was obvious, as her voice wound down, that she'd just recalled Zach's previous exploits.

"Serious?" I finished for her with a grin. "Zach can get real serious when he needs to. Is he allowed to kill them? I think it would make life a lot easier for everyone without them."

"Shit." Miss Militia grimaced and reached for the radio microphone. "I can't make that decision in the field." Holding it to her mouth, she pressed the button. "Miss Militia to Control. Requesting permission to use lethal force against hostile capes Lung, Hookwolf, Cricket and Oni Lee, over." There was no answer. She leaned closer to look at the radio. "Dammit. The explosions must've wrecked the electrics." Heaving a sigh, she turned to Zach. "Okay, if you can take them down non-lethally, do it, but if they threaten lives, use all the force you need."

Zach didn't move. I looked at him quizzically, then realised he was waiting on my confirmation. "Oh. Right. Zach, do what she said, okay?"

"Okay!" he responded cheerfully, and tore the door off the van. Turning, he threw it like a frisbee. Unfortunately, because the windshield was opaque due to Miss Militia's shots, I didn't see who he was throwing it at. I did, however, hear the crunch as it impacted. "It is now safe to get out and help people. I will engage the other parahumans."

Miss Militia opened her door and got out of the van. I did the same on the passenger side, without having to open the door first of course. Zach was trotting toward where the sounds of battle were starting to filter through my still-ringing ears.

"Every time I look at him, I see a kid in over his head," she said, setting out for where a telephone pole had fallen over a car. "It's only when I think about it for a few seconds that I remember just how stupidly powerful he is. Why is that?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. I don't have that problem. He's sweet and a bit clueless, but he wouldn't hurt a fly unless it threatened to harm me. And he has the weirdest sense of humour." I chuckled. "Like the Endbringer thing. Isn't that hilarious?" Leaning down, I looked through the car window. "Hi, mister. Are you hurt?"

The car's driver, a youngish man who looked to be somewhat shocked, tentatively shook his head. "No," he managed. "But my door won't open. And the other door …" He gestured expressively at where the pole had crunched the door down to about one foot high.

"So I see," said Miss Militia. "Just hold still, sir." She held out her hand, and a bizarre amalgam of sword and crowbar formed in it. Wedging one of the random-looking points into where the door met the car, she heaved. Metal creaked, then gave way. All of a sudden, the door sprang open. The guy climbed out, appearing more than a little shaky.

"Thanks," he said fervently. "Uh, do you need help doing that?"

"No," Miss Militia told him. "Get to safety. Now." The tone of her voice allowed for no argument.

As he took off running, I looked at her in surprise. "What'd you do that for? He could've helped."

"And gotten himself hurt in the process," she pointed out. "I can take care of myself, and I strongly suspect Zachary will prioritise saving you over everything else. That guy didn't have either advantage."

"Huh." I guess she has a point. It just sounded weird having her put it like that. "What is that thing, anyway?" I gestured at the thing she was holding.

She chuckled. "Do you know, I never actually learned its name. But I saw a picture of it once. Apparently it was designed to rip open plate armour to get at the man inside. It also seems to work well on car doors." She made a disapproving noise in her throat as we headed toward a pile of rubble where the front of a building had been blown out. "Dammit, can't those assholes pick an empty field to have their dick-measuring contests in?"

Despite the danger, I couldn't help but find that amusing. The more time I spent with Miss Militia, the more I liked her. "And remove every property developer's reason to live?" I asked, not at all seriously. Bending down, I picked up a length of rebar to match Miss Militia's crowbar/sword thingy. "Okay, he said there were people trapped – shit!"

At that moment, several things happened in very quick succession. Firstly, Oni Lee appeared in front of us … again. In each hand, he held a grenade … again. In a bizarre case of deja vu, these appeared to be the same two grenades he'd thrown under the van. Miss Militia said something in a language I didn't recognise (but the savagery almost certainly made it a swear-word) as she changed her sword into a pistol. Eyes wide, I froze.

But before anything else happened, Zach blurred into view. He stopped with his hand up under Oni Lee's demon mask, apparently wrapped around the man's throat. "Hello, Oni Lee!" His tone was as carefree as ever. "This is the second time that you have threatened Taylor's life! I will not allow you to do it a third time!"

If I wasn't so frozen with fear, I could've told Zach what was going to happen next. Were I a soulless serial killer like Oni Lee, it was what I would've done. And sure enough, Oni Lee did it. He dropped the grenades, more or less right at our feet.

The next few seconds were a blur. Zach's arm was around my waist, and I had the impression of moving really, really fast. Then I was standing on my feet again, shaking my head to clear the dizziness from it as Zach let go of me. Miss Militia was only a foot or two away from me, and I realised that Zach had grabbed her with his other arm. Zach disappeared from behind me while I was still finding my balance, then returned with a struggling Oni Lee, holding him by the throat at arm's length. Then the two grenades exploded, about a hundred feet away.

"Taylor, Oni Lee has tried to kill you twice now," he said. He wasn't smiling any more. Oni Lee reached for a grenade on his bandoleer, but Zach slapped his hand away, accompanied by the sound of a breaking bone. It seemed he was done with being gentle. "What should I do with him?"

I wasn't exactly the number one member of the Oni Lee fan club at the moment. I watched as the killer tried to reach for the pistol at his hip with his other hand, only for Zach to break that hand too. Dad's words came back to me. "Zach, can you punt him into orbit?"

It seemed I'd said exactly what he wanted to hear, for a broad smile spread across Zach's face. "Of course, Taylor. I thought you would never ask."

Oni Lee was twitching oddly in Zach's grasp. As I kept my eyes on him, I saw bits of ash drifting down from his body, but he wasn't collapsing into a mass of it, as I'd heard he could do. He kicked futilely at Zach, with as little effect as a child kicking a brick wall.

In return, Zach brought back his leg, then swung it forward with eye-defying speed. There was a loud CRACK, coming perhaps a fraction of a second before his foot actually made contact. The odd thing was, it didn't impair my hearing in the same way that Miss Militia's pistol shots had. On impact, the black-clad villain disappeared upward faster than my eyes could focus; in much less than a second, he was out of sight. Wait—did his foot just break the sound barrier?

Miss Militia winced, holding her hand over her ear. I realised the noise had nearly deafened her again, even though it hadn't affected me. "Zach." Her voice was loud, and a little nasal. "Did you actually just punt him into orbit? Really?"

"Yes, Miss Militia," Zach answered happily. "That is what Taylor told me to do." He looked and sounded very pleased with himself. "That was fun."

"So … you just killed him." Miss Militia wriggled her finger in her ear. It didn't seem to help very much. "He was a defeated enemy, and you killed him."

"Oh, no, I did not kill him at all," Zach explained. "Taylor did not say that I could. My sister is already taking care of him for me. Although she finds him a little dull, and cannot see the point in keeping him alive." He brightened again. "Is she allowed to kill him?"

Miss Militia caught my eye and shook her head slightly. "I guess not," I said, not without a certain amount of regret; the grenades were still very fresh in my memory. Shading my eyes, I stared upward in the vague hope of seeing Zach's sister, but there was nothing but the blue dome of the sky, with a few clouds as artistic decorations. "So, I'm guessing your sister is as talented as you are." Zach could be pretty damn effective when he wanted to be. I wouldn't have put it past the rest of his family to be just as formidable.

"Well, yes." He gave me an approving nod. "I have already told you who she is."

"You have?" I frowned, until I recalled what he'd said about his family. "Ah. Heh. Good one, Zach. Wow, you really know how to milk a joke, don't you?" Of course, it was still very funny.

Miss Militia frowned. "I'm … not sure I'm getting the humour here."

I rolled my eyes in her direction. "I taught Zach how to make jokes, so he told me one about how he's really an Endbringer, and that Behemoth is his big brother. Following that train of logic, that makes the Simurgh his sister. So when he says his sister's taking care of Oni Lee, we're supposed to think the Simurgh's got hold of him. He's just carrying on the joke a bit further. Get it?"

"Oh, right," she said, her face clearing. "Thanks for explaining that to me. I might not have gotten it without saying something embarrassing."

"Yeah," I agreed with a wry grin. "I guess it'll take us actually meeting his family to get past that particular joke."

"Mm," said Miss Militia thoughtfully. "I mean, it's a good joke, but all it'd take is one person taking it seriously and raising a panic to screw it for everyone else." She watched as Zach trotted down the street and around the corner.

"He does only mean it in fun," I assured her. "If it looked like going bad, he'd make sure everyone knew the truth. Zach's pretty responsible that way." I cupped my hand around my ear. My hearing was only just beginning to come back again, but even I could hear noises of battle from the direction Zach had gone. No explosions though; I figured the earlier ones must've been from Oni Lee's grenades. He'd certainly been tossing them out freely enough.

"Come on," suggested Miss Militia. "Let's go save some people."

On our trek back toward the pile of rubble where Oni Lee had attacked us, I saw something that made me pause. "Hey, over there!" I pointed at where I could see a pair of legs sticking out from a car's shattered windshield.

Miss Militia nodded approvingly. "Good eye, Taylor. Let's see what happened here." Reforming the crowbar-sword weapon in her hand, she led the way over.

"Is it just me," I asked when we got a bit closer, "or does that door look kind of familiar?" The door I was referring to was stuck in the same windshield, directly above the legs. Its paint job was the same pale purple and black that marked all PRT vehicles, and it looked amazingly like the one Zach had ripped off the van just a little while ago. Right down to the finger-marks he'd pressed into it while doing the ripping.

"It does indeed," she said. "Okay, so who did he throw the door at, and why?" She approached the car cautiously, weapon shifting back to a pistol. "He wouldn't throw it at an innocent … would he?"

"No!" I shook my head violently. "He knows I'd be unhappy about that. You've seen how he bends over backward to make me happy." I thought back to the earlier conversation in the van. "He did say that Cricket and Oni Lee were on site as well. We saw him deal with Oni Lee. What if this is Cricket?"

"I'd say well done to him," she replied. "I've tangled with Cricket more than once. She's very slippery and hard to hit. I've seen her dodge bullets, and she screws with your perceptions while you're trying to shoot at her." Waving for me to stay back with the hand holding the pistol, she leaned forward and opened the car door.

Inside was … well, Cricket. I could tell by the bent metal cage around her head. She was folded around the PRT van door in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. Also, she looked extremely unconscious, or perhaps dead; I wasn't sure which. "Um …" I grimaced. "Is she still alive?" For all my cavalier talk about killing villains earlier, I discovered I still wasn't totally on board with the idea of wily-nilly executions.

Miss Militia cautiously reached into the car and checked Cricket's pulse. "Huh. Either she's tougher than she looks, or Zach's really good at what he does. Pulse is strong and steady. Good. She gets to spend time behind bars. Also, in physiotherapy; that can't be good for her spine."

"How do we even get her out?" I asked. "I can't see how to do it in a way that won't hurt her."

"We don't," she decided. "That's a job for dedicated rescue crews. Right now, we need to search for innocent victims."

Just at that moment, I thought I heard Zach whisper my name. Wondering how he'd snuck up on us, I turned my head. But he wasn't where I thought he'd be. It took me a second to find him, all the way down the far end of the street. Even though it was at least three blocks away, I could see him clearly as he stepped in between Hookwolf and Lung. I held my breath as the Empire Eighty-Eight enforcer lunged for him, only to release it when Zach responded with a casual backhand. It might've been my imagination, but I thought I felt the concussion from where I was. I certainly heard it well enough.

So did Miss Militia; she turned her head just in time to see Hookwolf fly past the car—past us—on his way down the street in a flat ballistic arc. As he went by, I watched him shed pieces of steel like dandruff. Or like one of those cartoon characters that's just been punched out of his socks and shoes. A block further on, he hit the back of a van that was parked on the side of the road; after smashing through the rear doors, he came to rest half in and half out of the vehicle. Above the hole he'd made was the logo of the organisation that owned the vehicle: BROCKTON BAY DOG CATCHING SERVICE.

Miss Militia made an amused sound in her throat. "Fitting," she chuckled, looking across at me. "Zach does have a flair for the dramatic." A concerned look came over her face. "But I'm not sure how he's going to do against Lung."

I snorted. "I think you'd be better off worrying how Lung's going to go against him. Remember how he took out the Nine?" In my mind, there was not a shred of a doubt that Zach would prevail.

"Right!" Miss Militia exclaimed in enlightened tones. Her hand rose toward her face, then fell away in what I suspected was an aborted face-palm. "How did I forget about that?"

"Or how he bitch-slapped Assault all the way to Boston," I supplied helpfully. "He's not totally incapable, you know."

This time, Miss Militia did face-palm. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I don't forget stuff like this. How is it even happening? Does he have a Stranger power?"

"Uh, no, how can he?" I spread my hands. "He's not a parahuman, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Huh." Miss Militia rubbed the back of her head. "Sorry, it slipped my mind. Stupid of me."

"That's okay. Ooh, Lung's going for him." At that moment, I wished I had popcorn. Three blocks away, Lung gathered himself. Ten feet tall, covered in metal scales and wreathed in flames, the leader of the ABB looked terrifying even from where I was. He crouched, his draconic tail whipping from side to side, then leaped. Miss Militia gasped; just for a second, I felt the tiniest stab of fear for Zach.

But of course, Zach knew what he was doing. He blurred out of the way, instants before Lung's claws would have made contact. When he became visible again, he was holding Lung by the tail. Bracing himself, he heaved up and over. As Lung was lifted off his feet, he went over Zach's head and was smashed into the asphalt on the other side of where Zach was standing. And then again, and again. Over and over, Zach used Lung's tail as a lever to pummel the draconic cape into the roadway like a rag doll being thrown around by a petulant child.

Over the sound of the repeated impacts, I heard the noise of a shutter clicking. Miss Militia, I saw, had a small camera to her eye, taking picture after picture with it. I decided I was going to be asking her for a copy or three, once we were done here. Watching Zach make Lung eat asphalt like that was never going to get old.

Then Lung roared, rattling the windows of the car we were standing next to. I couldn't be sure from the distance, but it looked like he was maybe twice as tall as Zach now. Grabbing the crushed roadway with three clawed appendages—two feet and one hand—he reached for my protector with the fourth. In response, Zach took a fresh grip on Lung's tail with both hands and hauled him into the air. Using the resultant momentum, he started swinging the dragon cape around his head like an Olympic hammer throw competitor.

"Wait one goddamn minute." Despite the disbelieving tone to her voice, Miss Militia never stopped taking photos as she spoke. "Okay, he's strong. But there's no goddamn way he's got the leverage to do that!" I would've agreed with her, except that even now, Lung's form had blurred into a horizontal metallic disc over Zach's head.

Shading my eyes, I peered more closely. "Uh, now he's doing it with one hand." Without my glasses, I would've been short-sighted. With them, I had normal vision, but even then I shouldn't have been able to see that sort of detail at three hundred yards. With a mental shrug, I dismissed the thought; it was much cooler watching Zach take Lung down if I didn't worry about that sort of thing.

At the last minute, Zach put an upward angle on the spin, then released him like a hammer-thrower. Lung cleared the nearest building by mere feet. The last I saw of the ABB leader, he was hurtling head-first through the air in the general direction of the Boardwalk. His roar dopplered into the distance until I couldn't hear it at all.

Slowly, Miss Militia lowered the camera. "I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it," she breathed. "Who is Zach? What is he?"

I smirked. "If you want to go along with the joke, you can say he's an Endbringer." The smirk morphed into a chuckle.

Miss Militia snorted. "Yes, well, that would fit, wouldn't it?" Slowly, she shook her head. "That has to be the shortest time on record that Lung's stood up to anyone. And that includes Endbringers."

Somehow, this didn't surprise me. "Well, this is Zach." I looked over to where the boy in question was jogging toward us. While he didn't appear to be moving all that fast, the speed with which he arrived alongside us made me rethink my preconceptions.

"It is safe now," he informed us proudly. "The villains are either gone or disabled."

"I see," Miss Militia noted. "So where did you put Lung?"

"There is an island ten miles offshore," Zach said. "He landed there a moment ago. I do not think that he will try to swim back unaided."

Miss Militia grimaced. "Doesn't really help, kid. If we send a boat out, he'll overcome whoever goes. Especially if he has a chance to ramp up first."

"Oh, that will not be a problem," Zach told her happily. "His powers have been neutralised for the next twenty-four hours. I believe you should be able to have him in custody by then?"

"I … right," responded Miss Militia faintly. "Of course." She rolled her eyes briefly. "Well, now that's sorted, we've got injured and trapped civilians to rescue. Can you help us with this?"

Unusually for him, Zach looked pensive. "I would like to, but there is an issue that Taylor would probably like to resolve first." He looked at me. "I am sorry for not telling you this earlier, but more people may have been harmed with the battle, and you would not have been happy for that to happen."

I frowned warily. "Zach, stopping these guys was pretty damn important. So's rescuing the innocents. What's the other issue?"

Zach looked me straight in the eye. "Your father has been put under arrest by the PRT Director."

I stared at him. "Wait … what? Why? How come you didn't tell me?" Dad's under arrest? What the fuck?

"Taylor, your father is unharmed. At worst, he is angry at the Director." Zach's voice was soothing. "He has been placed under arrest on suspicion of being an accessory to my actions. I did not tell you until now because you were placing a high importance on stopping the villains. Now that that has been drawn to a conclusion, we have the wherewithal to focus all your energy toward the new problem."

I didn't know whether it was the logic of his explanation or the sincere way in which he expressed it, but I felt myself calming down. " … right. Okay, so how do we get there? Miss Militia, is the van running?"

The flag-clad hero shook her head. "After the beating it took, I'm not so sure. Zach, can you get her where she needs to go? I need to stay and help."

"Yes, Miss Militia," declared Zach. "I can get her there quickly and safely."

I felt a surge of guilt. "I want to stay and help too, but it's my Dad."

"No, you have to go." Miss Militia patted me on the shoulder. "Family is very important; I know that for a fact. Go and help your father."

"Okay, sure. And thanks." I turned to Zach. "Are we going to be jumping again? Jumping's fun."

"We will not be jumping," Zach replied. "I know the way now, so we will be running. Are you ready?"

"Sure," I said. This time I was prepared as he scooped me up in his arms. I was quite proud of the fact that I didn't even let out a squeak of surprise. "So, uh, running. How fa—"

–BLUR–

I blinked as my eyes came back into focus. My words stuttered on my lips. "—st, uh, are you … holy shit." In the back of my mind, I had the memory of a montage of streets and buildings going by at a frankly impossible speed. Where I'd been on a battle-torn street with Miss Militia, Zach was now letting me down on to the road outside my house. The PRT helicopter was new. Zach had literally gotten me there in less time than it took to say a single word. Ironically, that word was 'fast'.

My knees were a little wobbly, but Zach was right there to lean against. "Wow," I muttered. "Warn a girl next time, will you?"

"Yes, Taylor," he agreed. "I will warn you the next time we are going to exceed the speed of sound."

"Good," I said, just before what he'd said caught up with me. "Wait, what now? And why is there a helicopter on my street?"

"It is not important," he advised me. "This man is important."

'This man', as indicated by Zach, was one I had not met before. He was tall and rangy, with greying hair and a thousand-yard stare. His uniform looked more military than the standard PRT trooper armour, and he had a lot of colourful ribbons on his chest. At that moment, he was striding toward me with a dozen PRT troopers flanking him.

Well, flashy medal ribbons or not, if this guy was the important one, he was the one I'd be asking the questions of. "Hey!" I called out to him. "Are you the idiot who just arrested my dad? Because I'm gonna be wanting him back. As in, right fucking now."

He ignored my question. "Taylor Hebert?" he asked as he got within twenty feet of me. I could see the nametag on his uniform by now; it read TAGG. His voice was a harsh smoker's rasp.

"Yeah, that's me," I said. "But you didn't answer -"

"Place both these individuals under arrest," he interrupted. "Now!"

Two of the PRT troopers moved forward with alacrity, while the others hung back. I wasn't totally surprised; they'd seen what Zach could do, first-hand. The two moving in on me, I guessed, were new on the scene.

"Uh, you really don't wanna do that," I cautioned them as they came up to us.

"Yeah, we'll be the judge of that, kid." The trooper sounded bored as he pulled my wrists behind me. "You got the right to remain silent -"

I rolled my eyes. "Zach, don't hurt them, okay? They don't know what they're doing."

"I will not hurt them," Zach confirmed. He turned to the guy who was trying to cuff him and shoved him so hard that the trooper fell over and skidded fifty feet down the road, the metal accoutrements on his armour striking sparks off the asphalt. Then Zach turned to the guy on me. "Release her at once, or I will make you release her."

"Holy crap!" The trooper leaped away from us, leaving handcuffs dangling from one of my wrists. "Cape! Fuckin' Brute!" He unslung his rifle and pointed it at Zach. "Down on the ground now! Hands behind your head!"

"No." Zach moved toward him. "Lower your weapon. You are endangering Taylor Hebert. I will not allow this."

The trooper backed off with slow, steady steps. Bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he aimed at Zach's head. "Do not take one more step! I will kill you!"

"No. You will not." Zach took a step forward. The rifle went off. At the same moment, Zach moved, ending up alongside the trooper. With a single fluid move, he plucked the rifle from the man's hand. "You are not responsible enough to possess this weapon," he noted, passing the expended bullet back to the now thoroughly rattled trooper. Then, with as much apparent effort as I would've used to crumple up a piece of paper, he compressed the rifle into a ball of metal about four inches across. When he dropped it on the ground, it went clunk.

"Troopers!" That was the man called Tagg. "Take aim!"

I saw the helmets of the PRT troopers turn towards him, then at me and Zach. I looked back at them and shook my head slightly. The trooper facing Zach was retreating slowly, his empty hands carefully held out to the sides. The other troopers carefully kept their gun muzzles down, very explicitly not pointing them in our direction.

"Uh, no, sir." I didn't know who it was that had spoken, but the voice only quivered slightly.

"What the hell kind of show is this?" bellowed Tagg. "You will follow your goddamn orders! That is a dangerous cape, and that girl is an accessory before and after the fact! You will take aim or face charges for mutiny in the face of the enemy!"

"No, sir." The voice was steadier now. "Sir, I just saw that kid throw a van fifteen hundred miles to wipe out the Nine. He says he can hit Director Piggot's office window from here, with one of us. I don't want to be that one."

"He tried to kill me!" screamed Tagg, flipping open his pistol holster. "You will subdue both of them and take them into custody immediately, on the charges of attempted murder, assault on a PRT trooper, and destruction of PRT equipment!" The gun came out of the holster and he moved toward me, pointing it in my direction. "Anyone not obeying my orders will face a court-martial on charges of mutiny and sedition in the ranks! Now do your du-"

It still amazed me how fast Zach could move when he wanted to. Between one eyeblink and the next, he was standing beside Tagg, one hand on the pistol and the other covering Tagg's mouth. "Please be quiet, sir," Zach said reproachfully. "If you keep talking, one of your men might try to harm Taylor, and then I will be very angry." I didn't miss how he directed his words partly toward the PRT troopers, or how half of them sidled back a few steps when he said the words 'very angry'. "The van I threw missed your helicopter by at least fifty yards. If I had aimed to hit your helicopter, then you would not be here. Do you understand?"

When he took his hand away from Tagg's mouth, Tagg gave me a glare of pure loathing. "Tell your pet cape here to let me go, now, and I'll go easy on you and your father," he said. "If you don't, arrest and charging will be the least of your problems, girl."

"Fuck you and fuck your threats," I retorted. "Where's my Dad?"

"Your father is in the PRT van to your left," Zach said helpfully. "Do you wish me to let him out?"

"If you could, please?" It was nice to have Zach around. I'd gone so long without having anyone to back me up in any way.

"Of course, Taylor." Zach walked over to the van in question, leaving Tagg where he was. Ignoring the officer, I moved toward the van as well.

I was about halfway there when I spotted Tagg coming at me from the side. It wasn't exactly a smart move on his part, but then he hadn't struck me as someone who was being totally rational at that moment.

"Sir!" yelled one of the troopers. "Don't!" It was probably said for Tagg's benefit rather than mine, but still it made me feel happy inside.

The warning went by the wayside. A second later, Tagg had me with his arm around my neck. The cold circle of his gun muzzle pressed against the back of my skull. I kept still, mainly so that anyone trying to shoot this idiot would have a clear target.

"All right then," he snapped, his gravelly voice even harsher than before. "This futile little charade is over. Zach, if that's your name, down on your knees with your hands behind your head. You will surrender to the PRT right now. The rest of you, you're relieved of duty. Report for Master/Stranger screening as soon as you return to base. And you, girl -"

"You really don't understand what's going on here, do you?" I turned my head to look up at him, feeling the gun muzzle track down to the hollow of my throat as I did so. "You can't shoot me, and you should be happy for it. Because if you did, and you hurt me, Zach would shred you. I'm not talking figuratively, am I, Zach?"

"No, Taylor. You are not." Zach was standing right beside us again. "Director Tagg, unless you withdraw the threat to harm Taylor immediately, I will be forced to hurt you."

"What the fuck is going through your brains?" demanded Tagg. "I can pull this trigger before you can finish disarming me. Whatever you do to me, she'll be dead, and you'll have a Kill Order for the murder of a PRT Director."

"Except that pulling the trigger won't do a damn thing," I told him. "Zach had his hand on your gun after you pointed it at me. The only reason he let you keep it after that is that it's useless now."

"I am very impressed, Taylor." Zach smiled at me. "I did not think anyone saw that."

"I didn't," I admitted with a shrug. "I just know how you think. Oh, and talking about that. I notice he still hasn't let me go. Try not to break any bones."

There was another blur of motion, followed by a now-familiar feeling of displacement. In the instants that followed, I heard a sickening pop and a high-pitched scream. Now I was standing next to the van which held Dad, and Tagg was lying on the ground a few yards away. The asshole was screaming and holding his shoulder, which looked kind of funny; I guessed that Zach had dislocated it. Smartass. Just because I said not to break bones.

Zach moved over to the van and pulled open the back doors. Nobody moved to stop him, even when the shriek of tearing metal was audible to all. Inside, lying on the rough metal flooring with his hands cuffed behind his back, Dad blinked back at us. "Hi," I said cheerfully. "Wanna blow this popsicle stand?"

"Uh, sure," he replied. "I've got a little bit of a handcuff problem, though."

"Eh, so do I," I pointed out, waving my single-cuffed wrist around. "Pretty sure Zach is a one-size-fits-all lockpick, though."

"So I see," murmured Dad, as Zach reached in and made short work of his cuffs. Dad climbed out of the van, rubbing his wrists. As he squinted into the glare, Zach broke the cuff that was around my wrist.

"This isn't over." The voice was Tagg's; he was sitting up, holding his dislocated arm awkwardly across his chest. "You've poked the beehive now. It doesn't matter how far you run or how tough your pet cape is -"

"Oh, be quiet, Tagg." I turned at the new voice, as did Zach and Dad. Stepping out of an egg-shaped force-field bubble was a woman of Hispanic appearance, somewhere between a mature twenty and a well-preserved forty in age. She was tall, beautiful and imperious. I would've recognised her even without the uniform which she wore like a second skin.

Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief Director of the Parahuman Response Teams.

Beside her was a figure who was arguably even more famous; the hooded cloak with the green glow coming from within was an international icon. Eidolon, in the absence of Scion, was the most powerful cape in the world.

"I gave you your chance to bring this situation into line," Costa-Brown went on bluntly. "It seems that you've instead managed to screw it up in no uncertain terms. Mr Hebert, Miss Hebert, Zachary -"

The mention of his name brought Zach out of his apparent daze. "Hello!" he greeted the two newcomers with every appearance of delight. "Hello, Alexandria! Hello, Father! It is so good to meet you both at last!"

What.

Part 7