I, Panacea Pt 21 (Patreon)

Part Twenty-One: Just in Time

[A/N: this chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Taylor

“Okay, so spill.”

Amy looked around with an expression so innocent that Taylor was almost taken in. She had one hell of a poker face, but then, a superhero who didn't go masked would almost have to. “Spill what?” she asked.

Taylor gave Amy a decidedly unimpressed look. “You know what I'm talking about. What did you say to that woman to make her throw Sophia to the wolves like that?”

“Oh, that.” Amy stopped and hitched her butt up on to the low wall that ran down alongside the stairs. “Turns out she's Sophia's handler. And she's the one who was supposed to be keeping Sophia in check, and reporting stuff up the line if she acted out.”

Taylor blinked as a few things became clear to her. “And she wasn't doing her job.”

Amy snorted, then winced. “Ow. No, she wasn't. In a word, she was phoning it in. Any time Sophia pushed the boundaries, she pressured Blackwell into going easier on her, and soft-pedalled any incidents in her reports up the chain. She wanted to keep her nice cushy job, so she let Sophia pull her shit and get away with it.”

“Okay.” Taylor sat on the wall alongside Amy. “So how did … how did he know about it? Because he told you, right?”

“Yeah,” agreed Amy. “As for how he knew it, how does he know anything?” She shot Taylor a grin. “But it worked.”

Taylor nodded. “And holy shit, that punch. You set her up for that deliberately, didn't you?”

This time, the innocent expression on Amy's face needed work. “Well, someone was maybe feeding me that line. Someone who knew exactly which buttons to push and how hard.”

For a moment Taylor wondered if she should feel sorry for Sophia; she hadn't really had a chance, with Security pulling her strings like a master puppetteer. After all, having a dozen teeth knocked out and her jaw broken like that was going to stay with the girl for months. And with Amy refusing to heal her, her face would never be quite the same again.

Then she considered the other side of the matter; Sophia was supposed to be a superhero, but she'd tormented Taylor for months for her own gratification. Screw her, and screw her teeth. It was a win, and she'd take it. “Well, it was worth every second,” she replied with satisfaction. “Just knowing it was coming, even while Emma was talking at me and Sophia was beating on me, was worth it.” She gave Amy a sideways glance. “Does Vicky like chocolates? Or fruit baskets? I feel like I want to do something nice for her.”

Amy laughed out loud as she slid off the wall and kept going down the steps. “Sure. I'll give you a list of her preferences. Come on, I don't want to miss the bus when it comes.”

Obediently, Taylor followed her. It was only when they were crossing the parking lot to the bus stop that she noticed the blood staining the front of Amy's shirt, and remembered the state of her own clothing. “Wow,” she commented. “The bus driver's gonna think we're axe murderers or something. He'll probably drive right by.”

“Nah,” Amy replied without a pause. “We're at Winslow, right? He won't even notice.”

Which, while it held more truth than Taylor really wanted to admit, still raised a chuckle. “Be quiet, you,” she retorted, elbowing Amy playfully in the ribs. “Winslow isn't that bad.”

“Really?” Amy was good at deadpan snarking; who knew? “How many gangs attend, again? Let's see ...” She began ostentatiously counting on her fingers. “Empire Eighty-Eight … Azn Bad Boyz … Merchants … oh, and the Undersiders.”

“Hey, it's not like I'm recruiting!” Taylor protested, feeling that Amy was going a bit far. “Or tagging. Or picking fights with …” She trailed off, recalling the incident that had just occurred. “That doesn't count. You can't call the Wards a gang.”

Amy made a rude noise with her lips. “If Sophia was a typical example, we totally could, and you know it.” A thoughtful look crossed her face. “Actually, you know, if we counted Sophia as the leader, and the others as her minions, we could definitely class it as a gang.”

She had a distinct point. “So I guess that makes five cape gangs in the one school,” Taylor said with a kind of resigned amusement. “Is that some kind of record?”

“I'd have to ask Carol, but you know? I think it might.” Amy chuckled and shook her head, then her eyes glazed over. “Wait a second, he's talking to me.”

“Sure.” Taylor waited to see what happened next.

Nothing did for a few seconds, then Amy acquired an irritated expression. “Okay, fine,” she muttered. “I would've gotten around to it sooner or later. I've been busy, you know.” She focused on Taylor, her voice going back to its normal tone. “He thinks he knows everything. It's very annoying.”

“Everything, as in …?” Taylor ventured.

“As in these bloodstains will come right out if I release the right micro-organisms into the cloth,” Amy said, licking her finger then running it over the discoloured area on her shirt. In the wake of the motion, the reddish stain faded almost to nothing. “I would've gotten around to it eventually.”

“Oh. Right.” Taylor recalled how Amy had done much the same with juice stains on her art project, earlier. “Yeah. Wow. Your powers rock.”

“You mispronounced 'suck' there.” Amy licked her finger again and held it out. “Want me to fix yours?”

“Sure, go ahead.” Taylor hooked her thumbs in the collar of her shirt and held it out from her neck slightly to give Amy a steadier surface to work on. “And your powers do not suck. They're all kinds of awesome. All I do is control bugs; you make bugs that I never would've even imagined.”

Amy chuckled darkly. “I never would've imagined most of them either, except that a certain someone suggested them to me.” She set to work erasing the bloodstain from Taylor's shirt. “Oh, he says I would've come up with them on my own, but I have my doubts. And … done.”

Taylor let her shirt fall back into position, then peered downward in an attempt to examine the result. “Looks good. You could put any dry-cleaner out of business.”

“Hell with that.” Amy rolled her eyes dramatically. “Do I look like I want to spend all day, every day, running my hands over other peoples' clothing? I'd like a life, thanks.” She looked up the street. “That looks like the bus now.”

“That's the one, all right.” Straightening her hoodie, Taylor led the way to the bus stop. “Well, at least we don't look like murder victims now. Or perpetrators, for that matter.” She grinned at the expression on Amy's face, then flinched slightly as the motion pulled on her split lip. “Ow. I shouldn't do that. Well, we did kinda look like we'd been in a life and death struggle.”

“Struggle, yes. Life and death, no.” Amy was about to say more, but then her phone rang. “Gimme a second to get this. Probably Mom telling me I should go to school. Gonna tell her you need moral support.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Taylor leaned back against one corner of the bus stop, arms folded in front of her. Amy had dealt with the fractured ribs but left the external signs of Sophia's attack untouched. Although the injuries had been documented, she wanted to be able to prove it had happened first-hand, if necessary.

Pulling out her phone, Amy frowned when she saw the screen, but tapped the icon to answer it anyway. “Uh, hello? Who is this?” That didn't sound like it was Carol Dallon or Glory Girl; Taylor was certain Amy would know their numbers on sight, even if she didn't have said numbers stored in her phone. Which she almost certainly did. “Oh … Lisa? Why are you calling me? How did you get this number? Right, okay, yeah.”

Although her brain was alight with curiosity, Taylor pulled her attention from the phone call to where the bus was just now pulling up at the stop. Taking out her bus pass, she waited till the doors opened then showed it to the driver. He responded with a grunt and a jerk of his head. Looking to her side, Taylor saw that Amy already had a pass of her own out, which she showed to the driver even as she kept talking on the phone. Assured that the biokinetic wouldn't be left behind, Taylor climbed on board. Wanting to be as far away from the driver as possible so they could talk in private, she went all the way to the back.

At this time of the day, there weren't many people on the bus; Taylor guessed that everyone who was going to school or work had already gotten there. Thus, the back row of seats was empty. Taylor colonised one end of it, and waited for the other girl to sit down.

The bus started with a jerk just as she did, and she flopped into the seat with a slight 'oof'. “Yeah, okay,” she said into the phone. “I'll get back to you on that one.” Hanging up the call, she turned to Taylor. “Well, there's a potential problem.”

Taylor frowned. “If Lisa thinks something's a problem, it probably is. What's the situation?” She took the time to settle bugs on each of the other people on the bus; while she didn't think they could overhear the conversation, there was no sense in taking chances.

The grimace from Amy told her that there was definitely a problem. “Remember Bakuda, and how Alexandria was gonna take her down? Turns out that didn't go as planned. Lisa and the others heard something about Bakuda being out and about this morning, so they went after her and stopped her. She's in Protectorate hands now, undergoing interrogation. Talking about what happened to Alexandria.”

“Oh, shit.” Taylor got what she was talking about immediately. “Bakuda killed her?” A chill ran down her spine. “This could be bad. Very bad indeed.”

“No, she just put her away for a very long time.” Amy didn't sound any happier. “Lisa says that she's hacked the interrogation records, because apparently that's a thing with her. Bakuda told them she hit Alexandria with a bomb that locked her into a bubble of frozen time. So she's probably still alive. Technically, anyway.”

Being trapped in a bubble of frozen time sounded pretty definite to Taylor. “Technically? How do you rescue someone from something like that, anyway?”

Amy grinned. “Michael says there's five ways he can think of, off the top of his head. Two are implausible, but the other three have a good chance of working. So he says, anyway.” She shook her head. “And I have no idea where he gets his information from. Apart from saying he's read the cheat sheet. And that he's an extradimensional being.” She rolled her eyes. “Because that's so informative.”

“Well, he may be an irritating extradimensional being, but he's on our side at least, so that's something,” Taylor offered. “So what are the three workable ways?” She decided not to ask about the implausible methods; if Security didn't think they'd work, then she'd take his word for it. In any case, she was only asking from curiosity; the woman called Contessa, she felt sure, was probably already using one of the ways.

Amy laughed out loud. “He says he resembles that remark. Okay, the first way is … okay, convincing L33t to build a device to counter the field. Probably by stealing his favourite gaming handset and embedding it in the field first.” She looked extremely dubious. “That's not something I want to try.”

“Yeah, nope.” Taylor didn't know much about L33t, except that he was a villain who did video game themed crimes with his partner Uber. Apparently, his tech had a reputation for being phenomenally unreliable. “Pass on that one. What's the second one?”

Amy's eyebrows rose. “Going to Boston and getting into contact with Accord,” she said. “Um. Wow. Apparently he's got a minion … an Ambassador … called Citrine who can tell the field effect to … just go away?” She threw up her hands. “How did he know that? I didn't know that!”

Taylor snickered. “I guess it's a thing? From what I've seen, he likes to pull that crap. But just between you and me, I can't see Accord going along with this, not without a lot of money up front. Unless Michael's got a way around that, too?” She eyed Amy expectantly, wondering if the mysterious 'Security' did indeed have a rabbit to pull out of that hat.

“Not offhand,” admitted Amy. “He thinks Accord could maybe be persuaded if … oh, wow.” She blinked. “Holy crap, I didn't even think that was possible.” A shake of her head. “Holy crap, is he missing a trick.”

“Amy? Earth Bet to Amy?” Taylor waved her hand in the general direction of Amy's eyes. “You're having half a conversation here, and I'm not the other half. Mind unpacking what you're talking about?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Amy grimaced. “Michael was just telling me that we could possibly persuade Accord to get Citrine to release Alexandria if we also reminded him that there's potentially a large amount of money to be had in saving all the victims of Grey Boy. Also, public goodwill. With that, he might be able to get his plan looked at seriously by the authorities.”

Now Taylor was totally lost. “Plan? What plan?” She felt as though she'd opened a book halfway through, and was having to leaf back to find out what certain references meant. “And if it's a plan by Accord, why do we even want to support it?”

“Because apparently it's a plan to end world hunger, the energy crisis, and half a dozen other things,” Amy said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He's been improving on it for years. In fact, it's why he became a villain in the first place, to finance it. But now nobody wants to look at it.” She shrugged. “Because like you said, it's a plan put together by a villain.”

The irony was not lost on Taylor. “Wow. Ouch. Okay, uh, let's call that plan B for the moment. I'm not even sure I can afford a trip to Boston right now, let alone get in to see Accord.” She was not as shocked as she might've been at the news that there was an actual plan to save the world (for given definitions of 'save' and 'world') already in existence. The fact that it had been drawn up by a villain only reinforced her view that the world wasn't quite sane. “Okay, what's the third option?”

Amy grinned. “I think you're gonna like this one.”

<><>

Amy

“You want me to get into contact with who again now?” Lisa's voice wasn't quite disbelieving, but she didn't sound as though she knew where this was going.

Amy could sympathise; ever since the bank, her life had been like that. “You heard me,” she said cheerfully. “Also, at some point, I'm gonna need you to put me through to Accord.” The silence at the other end of the phone was music to her ears. It was hugely amusing to be able to pass on the confusion to someone else, once in a while.

“You know it's irritating as fuck when you do this, right?” Lisa's tone was aggravated, but Amy was reasonably sure she'd do as she was asked anyway, if only to find out what was going on. “That guy in your head put you up to this, didn't he?”

Amy grinned. “Pretty sure you don't want me to answer that one either. Oh, and he says you whine even more than the last version of you he met.” She had no idea what that even meant. However, yanking Lisa's chain had turned out to be quite rewarding as a form of stress release.

Of course, the stress release only went one way. “Fuck—fuuuuuck! Okay, fine, I'll call them. Where's the bus dropping you off?” Lisa sounded as though she regretted the whole situation. Even so, Amy got the impression that she'd see it through anyway.

She can't resist a secret. Michael's comment sounded quite amused.

Looks like it. Amy's smirk was both internal and external.

“We'll be getting off at the Boardwalk,” she said out loud. “Near that kiosk that sells hot fresh donuts.” It was kind of her guilty secret. She didn't indulge much, but she did enjoy them a great deal when she had them.

“Got it. We'll swing by and pick you up just as soon as I can get Brian to move his sorry ass.” In the background of the call there was a deep-voiced 'Hey!' which sounded to Amy like the aforementioned Brian.

“Sure, see you then.” Amy ended the call and put her phone away. “That was kind of fun.” She wondered if Lisa had ever had the tables turned on her like that before encountering Amy's mysterious—and somewhat smartass—passenger. It didn't seem likely, or she'd be more used to it.

“It sounded kind of mean,” Taylor ventured. “But she does that a lot to other people so fair's fair, I suppose.” She frowned. “What do you think he meant by the 'last version' of Lisa?”

Amy shook her head. “I could ask, but I'm not at all certain that I'm ready for the answer.”

You could probably handle it okay, commented Michael. But I'm not gonna tell you till you ask. Let's just say, it'd require a certain level of suspension of disbelief on your part. He seemed to be amused by his own phrasing, though Amy couldn't figure out why.

I'll take your word for it, she told him silently. Though I'm guessing it's got something to do with the comments you dropped about 'the last time you did this'. Am I getting warm?

Any warmer and you'd have third-degree burns, he confirmed.

“So, did he explain what he meant?” asked Taylor, apparently misinterpreting Amy's introspective silence. “Or did he tell you to mind your own business?”

“Neither, actually.” Amy hesitated for a moment. “There's stuff going on that's deeper than either of us knows about. But I'm going to leave it alone for the time being.”

“Sure, okay.” Taylor shrugged and leaned back against the seat. “Think we'll have time for donuts before they pick us up?”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Here we are, going to rescue Alexandria from an inescapable prison, and you're more interested in donuts?”

“What?” Taylor spread her hands. “So I've got priorities. Sue me.”

Amy could only shake her head. In the back of her mind, Michael chuckled.

<><>

Boardwalk

“Good, huh?” Taylor's voice was amused. Amy couldn't see her face, as she had her eyes closed. This was because she was inhaling a freshly-made donut, and it demanded her absolute concentration. It was as good as Amy had remembered, and she was determined to savour the experience.

Not that Taylor had any room to criticise; as far as Amy could tell, she was enjoying her own donuts, sprinkled with sugar, almost as much. It was a pleasant day on the Boardwalk, and Amy could think of far worse things to do than sit on a bench and enjoy a treat with a friend. It was still a little odd to think of Taylor in that regard, especially given the outcome of their first meeting. However, between Michael's prompting and her first-hand experience with the girl, she had come to see the tall brunette in that light.

“Mmm,” she replied. “This was a really good idea I had.” If she were president, she decided, freshly-made donuts would have their own national holiday.

“Your idea?” Taylor snorted. “I was the one who had to talk you into it. Something about rescuing Alexandria and priorities?” Her amused tone belied her words.

“Oh, please,” Amy retorted, although she was fully aware that Taylor was correct. “I—”

“They're here,” Taylor interrupted. “Just coming down Lord Street now.”

Amy opened her eyes and sat up. “But I haven't finished my donuts,” she complained, clutching the paper bag protectively. “And I can't ride a dog and carry them at the same time.”

“They're not on dogs,” Taylor pointed out. “They're in a car. Well, Brian and Lisa are anyway. Probably going to meet Rachel and Alec on the way. That'll be where the dogs are.” She pointed down the street, at a nondescript car that was just pulling into a parking space.

“How did you even know—” began Amy, then cut herself off. She slapped herself lightly on the forehead with her free hand before Michael could interject. “Duh. Bugs. You are seriously overpowered with those. You do realise that, right?”

“Hey, can I help it if bugs outnumber every other species on earth just from sheer mass?” Taylor took a bite of her donut, leaving Amy to consider her words.

“Still think it's unfair,” Amy retorted, then went back to her own donuts. She watched the car door open; Lisa got out and waved to them. “Okay, guess it's time to go.”

Together, they stood up and headed over to where the car was parked. As Taylor had noted, Brian was behind the wheel. Lisa, standing by the vehicle, wore her habitual vulpine grin. Brian leaned out the window as they approached, then blinked in surprise. “Shit, what happened to you two?”

Amy glanced at Taylor, then back at Brian. “I got a broken nose, and Taylor got a split lip and fractured ribs from the same person. Shadow Stalker, in her civilian identity.”

Brian whistled softly. “Okay, that I didn't expect. What happened then?”

Taylor grinned, but not too widely. “Amy put her out like a light. Then later on, once she was awake again, Amy kind of goaded her into attacking her again. In front of my dad, her PRT handler, and the school principal. And … drumroll … Glory Girl.” With that revelation, she managed to sound almost as smug as Lisa.

The look on Brian's face was classic; his jaw dropped at the same time as his eyes widened. “Fuck. Is she even still alive?”

Amy waggled her hand from side to side. “Mostly. She's got a concussion, a busted cheekbone, a shattered jaw, and she's missing twelve teeth. Oh, and my mother was there, so she's also under arrest.”

Brian blinked slowly. “Uh … would it be wrong to send flowers to your sister? Or maybe chocolates. Just asking.”

Just as Amy was about to answer, Taylor burst into giggles, to the point that she had to jam her knuckles into her mouth to keep them under control. Amy shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Ignore her. She asked me exactly the same question. It seems that Shadow Stalker had enemies. Who knew?”

The amount of smugness radiating off of Lisa would probably have jump-started a medium-sized nuclear reactor. She raised her hand and gave Amy a finger-wave. “I did.”

And me too.

“Yeah, but neither of you count.” Amy finished off her last donut and crumpled up the bag. “So, are we going? Just remember, we've got to stop off at my house. Michael says we need my costume for the best impact.”

“Already factored that in.” Lisa's air of self-satisfaction intensified. “We could've broken into your house and brought it with us, but that might've made things awkward.”

“If by that you mean I would literally bitch-slap your face on to the other side of your head, yeah, it'd definitely make things awkward. And that's if my family didn't get to you first.” Amy's tone was implacable. “Word of warning. You don't go near my family or my home. I know we're already unmasked, but that's a line you don't step over.”

Dang. I think that's the first time I've ever heard that threat from someone who could actually pull it off. I am impressed.

Did I come on too strong? I want her to know I'm serious.

She got it. Trust me, she got it.

“Already said I wasn't going to, didn't I?” Lisa shook her head. “Let's go.”

Taylor opened the back door of the car and got in, followed by Amy.

<><>

A Little Later

Brian

The three dogs moved down the street in a rough triangular formation, with Bitch and Tattletale on Brutus in the lead. Brian and Regent rode Judas to her left, with Panacea and Taylor riding tandem on Angelica to her right. They were on the street instead of the rooftops because Tattletale had said the last person they were meeting would be on foot. Panacea, for one, had expressed relief over this situation. Everyone was in costume; Amy had changed at her house, which gave Taylor the chance to do the same. Since she'd joined the Undersiders, she'd been leaving the costume in the loft anyway, so Brian had brought it along for her.

He still wasn't exactly sure what was going on with Panacea. On the one hand, she still looked like the New Wave healer he'd known about for years. On the other, since the bank job she'd been … weird. Weird enough to seek them out and, just like that, set up events to remove their boss from consideration. And, oh yeah, deal with a monster that had been lurking under Brockton Bay, and talk back to Alexandria and whoever the other woman had been, enough to let them all walk free.

The odd entity calling himself Security was behind it all, he was sure. Where he came from, Brian had no idea. At first he'd thought, like the others, that Panacea had been Mastered. But there was more to it than that. Security seemed to be riding along in Panacea's head, but giving her as much chance as possible to do things her way. It was obvious that he wanted to fix things—in his own phrase, save the world—but Brian suspected that nobody but Security knew all the details on how that was going to go. That was assuming even he knew the details.

Of course, it didn't help that the enigmatic Security was being aided and abetted by Tattletale at her most secretive. Even though his machinations had given her more than one headache, she'd come out far ahead in the deal. Coil was dead, so the team wouldn't be getting any more work from that quarter, but she'd managed to pull enough information from the purloined hard drive that none of them would be wanting for money for a very long time.

And now they were on the way to rescue a superhero from a villain's trap. It was a strange, strange world.

“Okay, stop just up here,” Tattletale said, loudly enough for each of them to hear. “He'll be around here somewhere.” Bitch immediately did something with Brutus—squeezed with her knees or something, he couldn't really tell—and the monster dog slowed to a halt. A hand signal brought the others to a stop as well.

“Who?” Brian could no longer hold his impatience back. “You still haven't told us who's coming along.” He was fully aware of the concept of necessary secrecy, but in his opinion, Tattletale was enjoying her new-found independence all too much.

“That would be me.” A familiar figure, one which hadn't been there ten seconds earlier, stepped from the mouth of an alleyway, just as Taylor turned her head that way. Clad in red and black, Trickster tipped his top hat. “We meet again, Undersiders. I presume you've found a way for me to repay the debt we owe you?”

“Well, yes and no.” Panacea, silent up until then, spoke up. “We need your specific capability. In return, you can put not one but two powerful organisations into your debt. Which, if leveraged correctly, should pave the way for you to go home. Interested?”

From the way Trickster's gaze snapped toward her as if drawn by a magnet, Brian decided that her seemingly-innocuous wording had gained his attention in no uncertain fashion. “If you mean home as in home, we are most assuredly interested,” he confirmed obscurely. “But I'm going to need to talk to you in private first.”

Panacea—no, Security—seemed almost amused. “To answer the questions you want to ask, they don't know,” he/she said. “Tattletale might suspect, but she's not gonna say a word. I know what I know because that's what I'm all about. And I'd much rather Mars and Jess and Oliver get the chance to go home and be normal. Which is all I'm going to tell you. Can you live with that?”

Trickster's chuckle sounded forced. “I can tolerate a lot of things if the end result is me going home with Noelle. And given how much you know about us, you've already got us on a leash, whether you care about that or not. So yeah. Consider it lived with.”

“Good.” Panacea pointed at the dog Brian and Regent were riding. “Get on. We've got a little way to go yet. Then we've got a PRT cordon to get through.”

“PRT?” Trickster's head came up. “You didn't say anything about fighting the PRT. It'd be a lot easier if—”

“We're not going to need the rest of the Travellers because we're not going to be fighting,” Tattletale interjected. “We're just going to walk on through. Panacea was just giving you the heads-up.”

Trickster spent a long moment looking at each of them in turn. Then he sighed and went toward Judas. “Seems I don't really have a choice in the matter.”

The monstrous creature turned its head and growled briefly, causing him to balk. Bitch snapped a command to quiet it. “Get on,” she said curtly to Trickster. “I don't like you riding my dog, but it'll take too much time to walk there.” It had taken a little time to persuade her of this, but eventually she had accepted the need.

“Oh, good,” Trickster observed with false cheer. “A situation that everyone's uncomfortable with. Now I feel at home.” Grabbing a bone spur and setting his foot on a ridge of muscle, he clambered on to Judas' back behind Regent. “What now?”

“Hang on,” Brian advised him. “Tightly.”

“To the dog,” Regent snarked. “Not to me.”

“Oh, crap,” muttered the leader of the Travellers, but did what he was told. “So how fast do these things go, anywaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy …”

<><>

Director Emily Piggot, PRT ENE

“God damn it,” Emily muttered, glaring at the bubble of frozen time and the superhero within as if it were Alexandria's fault that it existed. “This is all I need. A superhero in a fishbowl. One of the Triumvirate, at that.” She turned to Armsmaster, who was supervising the careful removal and packing away of Bakuda's equipment. “How long is that effect likely to persist?”

“I'd have to bring in magnifying instruments to examine the originating mechanism, which is by definition at the geometric centre of the field,” he replied, managing to avoid sounding facetious. “And even then, I may not learn anything at all; to the naked eye, it seems to be burnt out. But without such an examination, I have no idea.” He tilted his head slightly. “Ah. Heads up. Legend just got here.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered, turning toward the entrance. Just what we need. Cape royalty, here to tell us where we're going wrong.

Moments later, the leader of the Protectorate stepped in through the doorway, clad in his blue and white costume. “ Director Piggot. Armsmaster,” he greeted them. “I came as soon as I heard. What's the situation?” Despite the almost informal tone, Emily was fully aware that here was a man who could vaporise basically everyone in the room if he so wished. The fact that he hadn't, and was entirely unlikely to do so, didn't change anything in her eyes.

“Armsmaster knows the details, but the short version is that she's trapped in a time bubble.” She gave him a challenging look. “I hear your lasers are very … versatile. Can they affect the way time passes?”

“Not that I've ever discovered, no.” Legend had a reputation for being personable and approachable. She'd met him a few times before in the course of her duties, and nothing she'd seen had contradicted that. Even now, he could almost put across the air of a neighbour who'd just dropped in to borrow a cup of sugar. “But I can give it a try anyway.” He put out his hand and a glowing blue-white beam shot from it. The beam struck the field and … stopped. He ceased generating it after about thirty seconds, but the bright blue-white spot remained on the outer surface of the field.

Looking at it from the side, Emily could see that it hadn't even begun to penetrate the interior of the field. “I hope you didn't aim it at her,” she commented. From her reading, she knew that Legend's 'lasers' actually propagated at much less than the speed of light, but still well over the speed of sound. And she could watch this one move, if only by time-lapse camera.

“Even if it hit her, it won't harm her,” he assured her. “I've hit her with tougher shots during sparring sessions, and they didn't even bruise her.” He frowned, studying the field. “Do we have a read on what the dilation rate is?”

“Somewhere on the close order of ten billion to one,” Armsmaster stated. “I shone a laser through a section of field precisely ten feet from side to side. It took one hundred forty-one seconds to emerge. From this, and factoring in her known flight speed, I estimate that she'll reach the outer edge in a little over four days, assuming she's flying at full speed. Of course, the next four days would almost certainly kill her, as she passes through the event horizon. Part of her body will be acting on real time, and part will be acting on slow time. Even someone as tough as Alexandria probably won't be able to withstand that. On the upside, we've got a hundred hours and change to figure out how to save her.”

“Four days …” Piggot shook her head. Every time she thought she was used to cape madness, the world conspired to show her just how wrong she was. “Well, between this and the bombs that the Undersiders warned you of—how are you going with that, anyway?”

“A preliminary examination of Bakuda's mask and the toe-rings seems to bear out their allegations,” he said. “There's an extremely comprehensive list of names and locations, linked to numbers, which appear to refer to bomb types. I've taken the precaution of putting them all on standby, which was thankfully an option. However, actually finding and removing the bombs is going to take quite a bit of effort.”

“Oh, good,” she said heavily. “I'm glad to know we won't be blowing up today. As I was saying, between that and the extremely drawn-out murder attempt on Alexandria, we've got enough to have Bakuda committed to the Birdcage.” She turned to Legend. “Do you concur?” By which, of course, she meant that her recommendation to the judiciary would be to have Bakuda sentenced to the Birdcage, rather than a regular prison. Everyone, after all, deserved their day in court. Even if it was a very brief day in court.

“Attempted murder on this scale … I definitely think she needs to go away permanently,” the leader of the Protectorate replied. “If she'd actually carried it through, it might even rate a kill order. And the successful murder of a Triumvirate member carries with it an automatic death penalty.” The one person who'd actually managed that, of course, was the Siberian, even if the Triumvirate had only technically come into being after Hero's murder. The PRT was still working on applying the death penalty in her case, but it was the thought that counted. “Do you have any way of determining her actual velocity within the field?”

Armsmaster pointed at a device mounted on a workbench in front of Alexandria. “That laser fires a one-second pulse at her every five minutes, reflecting off her helmet. It measures the return pulse down to a millisecond, which gives us a distance count. So far, the registered motion is less than the margin of error generated by people moving around and air vibration from talking. But even if she was travelling at full speed, it wouldn't have registered yet.”

“Hmm. Damn.” Legend cupped his right elbow on his left hand, propping his chin on his right thumb and letting his index finger lie along the line of his upper lip. “Eidolon said he'd be here in the next hour, but … I'm not even sure that even his powers will be of any help, here. He can affect time, but I'm not at all certain that he can push it to this level. He's never shown that capability before, anyway.”

Armsmaster's head came up. “Director … the situation's just escalated. A group of villains are requesting entry to this location. Wait; not just villains. The outer perimeter guards say that Panacea's with them.”

“Panacea? The healer?” Legend frowned. “Is she a hostage?” He lifted from the floor and drifted toward the entrance. “If they think they can—”

“She's not a hostage.” Armsmaster's voice brought him up short. “I'm viewing live footage. She's not restrained or under guard, and nobody's threatening her. The villains accompanying her are … hm. The Undersiders, and one other. The leader of that new gang in town, the one with the top hat. Trickster.”

“What do they want?” Emily asked the question because nobody else seemed to be about to. “Armsmaster, aren't the Undersiders the group …” She didn't need to say any more.

“Who worked with Panacea and Glory Girl to take down Coil's organisation last night, yes.” He still sounded as though his feelings about that were mixed. As well he might; Coil had been shot to death while tied to a chair, unable to defend himself. On the other hand, the dead man in Coil's costume had been Thomas Calvert, a PRT strike team commander who could've done irreparable damage to the PRT if he'd been let continue on his way. As it was, every single action the PRT had taken involving Calvert would now have to be scrutinised under a microscope.

Emily's views on the issue were slightly different. While she disapproved of killing a helpless prisoner, she'd known Calvert since just after Ellisburg. He had struck her as a ruthless opportunist; given powers, this was exactly how she suspected he would act. A trial would've caused more damage than it prevented, as Calvert would no doubt be able to afford a phalanx of lawyers to throw doubt on the very idea that he was a costumed villain. Alive and well, he could have dragged the PRT through the mud; dead, he was merely a series of data points in an ongoing investigation.

“Well?” she asked. “Have they said what they want?” Their presence here, she suspected, was no coincidence. Especially after the Undersiders had personally handed Bakuda over to Armsmaster just a few hours before. I just wish I knew what they were up to.

“Yes.” He paused, as if he didn't quite believe the words that next came out of his mouth. “They say they're here to rescue Alexandria.”

Legend's head snapped around at that. “You can't be serious.” He gestured at the twenty-foot-wide bubble which held Alexandria prisoner. “My powers can't begin to scratch it. She's experiencing time at a rate of ten billion to one. Surely you don't have anyone in this town powerful enough to beat something the Triumvirate can't touch.” Emily had been wondering when he would show signs of being merely human; the note of wounded pride in his voice, she decided, would have to do.

“Uh.” Armsmaster grimaced. “Tattletale just made a comment. I quote, Tell Legend that he ain't seen nothing yet. End quote.”

Emily hid her amusement at the look of shock on Legend's face. It was a sour kind of satisfaction, but she savoured it anyway. New York had its villains, but it also had heroes in plenty. However, only in Brockton Bay was it possible to find villains such as Emily had to contend with on a daily basis. Not necessarily powerful, but they were irritating as crap.

“Let them through on my authority,” she stated. “Escorted by one trooper per villain, armed with containment foam.” She paused, a question occurring to her. “Is that dog girl, Hellhound, with them?”

Armsmaster's lips moved as he subvocalised the question. A moment later, he shook his head. “No, but they can see her on a nearby rooftop, with three of those monster dogs. Just watching. Regent also seems to be with her.”

“Good.” Emily nodded. “My orders stand. They get to come in and explain what they meant, but one wrong move and they get foamed. Panacea or no Panacea.” The fact that the bad-tempered Rachel Lindt and her goddamn rhino-dog-lizard things were standing off was something for which she was profoundly grateful. Regent was less of a problem, but still someone she didn't want to be in the same room with. Legend should be able to take them all down by himself, but the Undersiders had a well-deserved reputation for being slippery, and Trickster was a virtually unknown factor as yet.

“Understood.” Armsmaster relayed the order, then turned to Legend. “Sir, I suggest you let the Director handle this.” The subtext was not voiced, but it came across plain as day anyway: You haven't dealt with these people before. She has. Emily was torn between gratitude for his loyalty, and irritation that he was dumping this in her lap.

Legend nodded. “I'll observe for the moment,” he agreed. “But if they try anything hostile, I will take them down.” He glanced at Emily. “Do they do this sort of thing … often?”

“Not until very recently,” she conceded. “Oh, villains attack villains for various reasons, as you well know. Ideology, profit or turf. But up until … well, last night, we've rarely had villains taking down villains then calling in the authorities. Nor have we had heroes openly associating with villains like this. It's not a precedent that I'm totally comfortable with.” If anything, that was an understatement. In her view, heroes should act like heroes and villains like villains. It made it easier to tell them apart.

The expression on Legend's face suggested that he agreed with her, but any comment he was about to make was forestalled when Panacea stepped in through the entrance to Bakuda's workshop. She was followed by someone whom Emily had never seen in person before. However, she was familiar with Skitter's appearance, having viewed stills from Armsmaster's helmet cam and footage from security cameras.

Skitter was tall for a girl, taller than Emily herself. Her mask covered her face, the flat yellow lenses and bug-themed mandibles making her look creepy if not terrifying. The costume itself was coloured in grey and black, with unmistakeable armour panels added here and there. The only human touch was Skitter's hair, long and black and obviously well taken care of, spilling out the back of her otherwise full-coverage mask. No cloud of bugs accompanied her, which Emily appreciated; while she didn't think the newly-minted villain was considering treachery, when it came to capes there was no such thing as being too cautious.

“Director Piggot,” Panacea said, drawing Emily's attention back to the healer. She had a slightly nasal tone of voice and, Emily now realised, an aluminum splint on the bridge of her nose. “Thanks for letting us come in.”

“What happened to you?” asked Emily. New Wave was well-known for keeping their most famous member out of the firing line, for obvious reasons. “Who hit you?”

Panacea stepped closer to Emily and lowered her voice so as not to be overheard by the techs. “Shadow Stalker, in her civilian identity.” Her tone was blunt. “After she was exposed as a bullying coward. My mother will be filing the charges. But we're not here for that.” She glanced at the other capes in the room. “Hello, Armsmaster. It's nice to meet you again, Legend.”

“And you too, Panacea.” Legend turned to Emily. “I'm going to need to be filled in on the Shadow Stalker situation before I leave town, so I can brief the Chief Director. But, as Panacea said, we're not here for that.” He looked back at the healer. “How do you intend to rescue Alexandria, exactly?”

Panacea might have smiled under the scarf that covered her face. “Oh, I'm not going to be rescuing her. Have you met Skitter? She's a huge fan.”

“I have not.” Legend nodded politely to the bug-controller. “These are odd circumstances in which to meet, but aren't they all?” He frowned. “I'm guessing you're a villain, from the costume?”

Skitter made an aggravated noise. “Armsmaster thought that too, when he met me for the first time. Just after I took down Lung with the help of the Undersiders. At the time, I was trying to be a hero.”

“Since which time, you've assisted in robbing a bank and been complicit in the murder of an unarmed man,” Armsmaster put in harshly. “Do not presume that one good act overturns the crimes you've committed.”

“I was—” Skitter stopped herself and shook her head, then addressed Legend once more. “Never mind. Yeah, I know my costume looks edgy. By the time I realised this, it was too late to change things. I tried to be a hero, but on the way I somehow became a villain. Anyway. I'm here because Alexandria needs saving, and I want to see this.”

“Wait a moment,” Legend said. “You took down Lung?” He was obviously trying not to be impolite with his disbelief. “How, exactly, did you do that?”

Skitter's mask gave no visual cues to her expression; her flat tone of voice didn't help either. “I covered him with as many venomous bugs as I could, and had them all bite him repeatedly. This weakened him enough that when the Undersiders arrived, Bitch's dogs were able to put him on the ground.”

“That's very impressive.” Legend seemed to be sincere. “I'd be interested in hearing more about that fight. After we're done here, of course.”

Emily frowned. She'd read Armsmaster's report on the capture of Lung, and somehow it seemed that he'd left out the assistance of Skitter and the Undersiders. While it wasn't something that needed to be aired right now, she was definitely going to raise the point with him later.

By now, two other members of the Undersiders had entered the room, each accompanied by a trooper. While Tattletale looked positively petite next to the armoured PRT men, Grue actually seemed to be on par with them. The last villain to enter was the aforementioned Trickster, his top hat set at a jaunty angle.

“All right then,” Emily stated. “You've said you're here to rescue Alexandria. Is that true, or are you just wasting our time?”

“Oh, definitely rescuing,” Trickster said, strolling forward to examine the bubble. “Damn. I have never seen shit like this before. Bakuda is fucking vindictive.”

“Don't touch the field,” Armsmaster warned, apparently reflexively. “Your body will engage with it, and you'll probably lose skin.”

“Wasn't about to,” murmured Trickster. “Now, how much does she weigh?” He turned to Legend. “Any idea? I mean, is she really dense, or normal human weight?”

Legend blinked, apparently taken aback by the question.  “I … have no idea of the exact number, but she's in the normal range as far as I know,” he replied.  “It's not something that comes up in casual conversation. Why do you need to know?”

“Because I swap things,” Trickster said. “And they need to be of the same approximate mass and size. Though I've never tried pulling someone out of a time dilation field before, so there's that.” He stepped back and pointed at the basement wall. “How fast do you think she's flying? Because if she hits that wall with any significant speed, she might just bring this whole room down.”

Emily glanced at Armsmaster; the armoured hero shrugged. “We don't have a long enough baseline of observations to actually know yet,” he admitted.

“Okay, so we're back to 'winging it' territory. Good to know.” Trickster turned away from the bubble and looked around the room. “Need a counterweight. Something of the same rough size and weight of a human being. Any volunteers? Nope, didn't think so. Oh, that bar fridge. That looks good.” He headed over to the corner of the room, and took hold of the fridge that sat there. With a grunt, he tried to lift it, shifting the unit on its base slightly. “Perfect. Can I have some big strong men lift this on to the bench there?”

“Why on to the bench?” asked Grue. He went over to the fridge, unplugged it, and picked it up. Emily noted that the young man almost certainly did weight training; he didn't even seem to be really straining under the weight of the appliance.

“Would you rather she hit the wall high up or low down? I don't even know if she'll come out of it with the same angular momentum.” Trickster shrugged. “But I'm going to assume she is. So we do what we can.”

“Good point.” Grue put the fridge on the bench, then put two chairs up on the bench as well, side by side. Scrambling up on to the bench himself, he hefted the fridge and placed it on the two chairs. Its perch was a little precarious, but it didn't seem likely to fall down immediately. “Will this do?”

“Good as any. Okay, let's see.” Trickster looked around, pointing momentarily at Alexandria, then at the bar fridge, as if reminding himself of something. “Ah. No, it won't. Damn. I knew this was too easy.”

“What's the problem?” Legend's voice was calm and controlled. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

It was impossible to see Trickster's face behind the full-face mask he wore, but the tone of his voice suggested a grimace. “Remember when I asked how much she weighs? That matters. I need equivalent masses. Whatever else that field is doing to her, it's amplifying her effective mass. My power can grab her, but I just can't move her. I'm going to need something in the ton-weight range to pull it off.”

“How about that?” Skitter pointed at the roughly spherical mass of crushed-together material that lay on the floor behind Alexandria's bubble. It looked for all the world like a giant had gathered up a double handful of lab benches and other equipment, and crunched it all together like the world's dirtiest snowball. Even aside from the hazard tape ringing it, everyone in the lab had avoided it on instinct.

“Ah. Let me check.” Trickster turned to face in that direction. A moment later, he nodded. “Sure. It's right in the correct weight range. I should be able to swap them easily. But we're going to have to move it aside or when I do the swap, she's going to barrel straight into that field at full speed.”

“I would prefer to jar it as little as possible,” Armsmaster warned. “We have no idea how much of Bakuda's tech ended up in that ball, if any of it's still viable, and what might set it off.”

Emily wanted to grind her teeth over the colossal irony. The easiest and simplest way to move that ball would be to have Alexandria herself carry it, but in order to do that, they needed to release Alexandria from her Tinkertech prison. Fortunately, that thought led to another. Brockton Bay had its own Alexandria package, after all.

“Panacea.” Her tone was curt. “Do you believe your sister would be able to maintain secrecy over this if you called her in?”

The healer didn't hesitate. “Sure, if I ask her to. Want me to call her in?”

Emily nodded. “As soon as possible, please.” As much as she disliked making it into a request, she reminded herself that Alexandria's well-being was at stake. Achieving a successful outcome was worth the hit to her pride.

Panacea pulled out her phone and was about to dial when Armsmaster held up his hand. “Not in here. We already know that the bombs are triggered by radio signal. I don't want to take the chance that your call will accidentally trigger anything in this lab.”

His logic was impeccable. Apparently coming to the same conclusion, Panacea nodded and headed for the door. After a moment, Trickster tilted his head in that direction as well. “Looks like we'll be waiting for a bit. Anyone mind if I smoke?” Skitter and Grue turned to look at him, and they were far from the only ones. “What? Seriously, I'm a supervillain. Smoking's probably the least hazardous thing about my life right now.”

“Fine.” Emily bit the word off. “Go smoke. But don't do it in this room. And don't go too far.” As he made his way to the door, she turned back to Armsmaster. “How quickly can you get the hazardous tech cleared from this room?”

<><>

Trickster

Ten Minutes Later

PRT guards had it the worst, Francis Krouse decided. Full-face helmet visors meant they couldn't even catch a crafty smoke on guard duty. On the upside, he couldn't see the undoubtedly unfriendly looks being bestowed upon him by the PRT guard on the door as well as his own foam-equipped escort.

“So, what's it like being a stooge for the Man?” he asked the guard as he exhaled the smoke from his second cigarette. “Kicked any puppies recently?” He was pushing the envelope, he knew, but it wasn't often he got the chance to bait the PRT.

Stony silence greeted his sally, pretty well as he'd expected. He took another puff on the cigarette, drawing the aromatic smoke deep into his lungs. The trepidation that he'd initially felt on walking into the midst of the PRT like this had begun to dissipate, and he was getting bored.

“Those things will kill you, you know.” The voice was feminine and teenage. He turned to see that a vision of loveliness in gold and white had descended from the heavens and was eyeing him somewhat critically. “Wait a minute. I think I know you. You're Noelle's boyfriend.”

“Yes, we met last night, but only briefly. I don't believe we introduced ourselves then.” He doffed his hat and bowed slightly from the waist, then stubbed out the cigarette on the graffiti-encrusted wall beside him. “Trickster, at your service. And you, of course, would be the incomparable Glory Girl.”

She gave him the same sort of look that Noelle tended to favour him with when her bullshit detector went off too hard. Which, to be fair, was about once a day. “I've heard of you. You're with the Travellers, right? What are you doing here?” Her gesture took in the PRT guards, silently inquiring as to why he hadn't already been foamed and/or handcuffed.

“As it happens, your sister apparently requested my presence, due to my very specific capabilities, so I have a pass for the moment. Which is basically why you're here as well.” He gestured toward the doorway. “Shall we?”

“Sure thing,” she said. “You first.” He felt a surge of trepidation that ebbed just as fast. To hear about Glory Girl's aura was one thing, but to feel it first-hand was quite another.

“As you wish,” he said, heading through the doorway and down the well-trodden steps, followed by his escort. Silently she followed the PRT trooper down; he suspected that she wasn't even setting foot on the stairs. Fliers gotta show off.

When he got to the basement lab, he observed the significant lack of Tinkertech littering the benches. This was good, as he had no desire to experience ground zero in a chain-reaction of Tinkertech bombs. There was, of course, the compacted mass on the ground still to go. He wasn't quite sure what had done that, and he was quite sure that he never wanted it to happen to him.

“Good, you're here.” Director Piggot, he noted, had not undergone a personality transplant in his absence. Her comment was aimed at Glory Girl, not himself, and even then wasn't particularly welcoming. “We need you to move a single piece of debris. It needs to be done quickly and smoothly, but not … what?”

Glory Girl pointed at the bubble of frozen time containing Alexandria. “What. The. Hell?”

The Director touched three fingers to her forehead in what was probably an abortive facepalm. “Did nobody explain what was going on before you got here?”

“Hey, you said this was all secret,” Panacea pointed out. “So I decided to let you explain it. Should I have told her myself?”

An expression strongly reminiscent of sucking lemons crossed Piggot's face. “... no. Glory Girl, Alexandria was caught in a trap by Bakuda. You and Trickster are here to get her out. Do you understand?”

The teen hero nodded, her blonde curls bouncing around her tiara. “Okay, sure. You were saying something about moving debris?”

Trickster took that as his cue, and pointed at the sintered mass of trash. “That there needs to be out from behind her. Preferably in an open area. I'm gonna be swapping it into the bubble so she can come out. Got it?”

“Got it,” she said promptly. Heading over to the ball of compressed debris, she bent down to inspect it. “What's this made of, anyway?”

Armsmaster stepped forward. “I'd advise you to be very careful with it. There may be Tinkertech bombs stuck in that mix, and moving it might activate them.”

“Scratch 'may be',” Tattletale put in. “There's almost certainly something in there that might go boom.” She grimaced. “The trouble is, it's probably unstable already, so it's just as likely to go off even if we don't mess with it.”

“Oh, joy,” muttered Grue. “Why did I come along again?” He sidled away from where Glory Girl was standing next to the compacted sphere.

“To keep me and Skitter out of trouble.” Tattletale turned back to Glory Girl. “Do your best not to jar it. If you hear any strange noises, or feel odd sensations coming from it, put it down and back off immediately.”

“Hey,” Glory Girl replied, with what Francis decided was false bravado. “I'm invincible. What can happen?”

It was as if they'd rehearsed it; Panacea, Skitter, Grue and Tattletale pointed at where Alexandria was trapped like a fly in amber. “That.”

“Or worse,” Armsmaster said bluntly. “So be careful.” He turned to the people crowding the laboratory. “Everyone out who isn't directly involved in this. Grue, Tattletale, Skitter, upstairs. Trooper, you go too. I can keep an eye on Trickster. Trickster, are you certain you can do this?”

Francis did not like being put on the spot. “Uh, yes,” he managed. “My power says they can be swapped. It just won't be easy, is all. It might take a few seconds.”

Armsmaster leaned in. The Tinker's visor was opaque, but Francis could feel his glower anyway. “Get. It. Right.”

“Sure. No pressure.” Francis swallowed a lump in his throat. “I got this shit.” He turned and craned his neck so that he could see the ball of compressed material. Alexandria was in plain sight already. “Okay, when you're ready.”

“Just gotta be careful,” murmured Glory Girl. Taking a deep breath, she crouched and wrapped her arms around the mass of compressed crap. It took a couple of seconds for her to find the right grip; as she did so, Francis started trying to establish a connection between it and Alexandria.

It was possible to swap them, he knew; the pressure from his power told him that. Unfortunately, that time field was giving him difficulties, so he was having to do it slow and steady rather than quick and dirty. As she lifted, he pushed the connection, firming it up without going all the way to a clean swap. It was going to take a lot of effort to make this swap, but the longer he worked at it, the easier the final push was going to be. Glory Girl moved sideways, step by careful step. He wondered why she wasn't flying, then realised that the weight she was carrying was possibly more than she could fly and carry at the same time.

“Shit.” Her voice was no more than a whisper, but to him it may have been a shout.

“What?” He hadn't meant to make his voice so sharp, but stress never sat well with him.

“I think it just beeped.” Despite her earlier bravado, her eyes were wide.

“Go, go, go!” Armsmaster's bellow echoed through the room.

No! screamed Francis silently. I can do this! He saw Glory Girl toss the thing into the air and lift off the ground, arrowing toward the stairs. Fixated on the ball of debris, he tried to force the connection, to push the swap through. I can still save the day.

And then a massive armoured gauntlet grabbed him by the front of his costume, dragging him bodily up the stairs. He could hear Armsmaster's boots pounding on the risers, the armoured man moving faster than anyone should be able to achieve while wearing that weight of equipment. Glory Girl came into sight, catching up with almost insulting ease. She took hold of his belt with one hand and the weapon rack on Armsmaster's back with the other, and pushed. Behind her, he heard the crash as the ball of debris hit the floor … then a wave of silvery light appeared at the bottom of the steps, moving even faster than Glory Girl.

Francis had time to think faster, oh God faster before they shot out the top of the stairwell and he sprawled on the floor. His top hat went flying, and his head smacked into the floorboards hard enough to make him see stars. He was vaguely aware of Armsmaster hitting the ground rolling, then coming to his feet in a totally bullshit manoeuvre. His vision wavered as he watched Glory Girl hover in the air before the stairwell. “Is everyone okay?” she asked.

“Oh God, Vicky,” Panacea said, with a choke in her voice. “Your feet.” She moved forward, reaching out to her sister.

Frowning, Glory Girl looked down. So did Francis. From the ankles down, Glory Girl's feet had turned to glass. It was the last straw; his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

<><>

A Few Moments Later

“Are you okay?” Panacea bent over Francis, her expression solicitous. “Nothing broken?”

“Nothing except a bump on the head,” he managed. “Is—is Glory Girl going to be okay?” Even going through all the body horror that he'd experienced with Noelle's ongoing mutations, seeing someone's feet just transmuted like that had blasted past all his defences.

“Sure,” she said, glancing over to where Glory Girl was talking with Legend, Armsmaster, Skitter and Tattletale. The blonde hero seemed none the worse for her mishap, save that she looked fractionally skinnier, and was barefoot. “She was more pissed about the boots than anything else. She loved those boots.”

Francis snorted. “Right. Um. So, about going back down there. We've still got to save Alexandria, right?”

“That's correct,” Legend said from across the room, raising his voice to make it clear that he was addressing Francis. “Do you feel up to it, young man?”

“Help me up, and I can get it done,” Francis declared. He braced himself and climbed to his feet. Silently, Grue handed his top hat over; Francis replaced it carefully on his head, avoiding the lump on the back of his head. He turned to Panacea. “I don't suppose you can do anything about the lump?”

“Sure,” she said. “You've got a mild concussion too, but it's not serious. I can't do anything about that. Do you consent to me healing you?”

“Definitely,” he said. She put her hand on the back of his head, and the pain went away, just like that. “Wow,” he muttered. “You have got to be the most popular cape ever.”

“It gets very tiring after a while,” she returned, her voice just as quiet. “Anyway, it's your turn to go rescue a superhero.”

“Yay me,” he replied dryly. Behind her scarf, she cracked a smile.

<><>

The basement lab had undergone a startling transformation. Every wall, every bench, every piece of debris, was now made from glass. The only exceptions were Alexandria herself and the section of bench under her.

“Uh, is it just me, or is that effect moving into the field faster than it should?” Francis pointed at the time bubble. The silvery wave that had pursued them up the stairs was sinking into the time bubble at a perceptible rate, closing in on the trapped hero from all sides.

“Oh, shit!” Glory Girl stared at it. “The, uh, glass bomb, must've interfered with it or something. We've got less than a minute! Everyone get back!” Flying over to the mass of trash that had been the cause of the whole problem before (now transformed into glass), she hefted it into the air. “Trickster, do your thing!”

Right. Make or break time. Francis focused on Alexandria and on the mass of glass, seeking to connect the two. It wasn't as dense as it had been before, but he had a trick to get around that; mentally grabbing the air in the lab, he added that to the sphere's effective volume. Focusing on both the ad hoc counterweight and Alexandria, he threw all his power into forcing the swap. It didn't happen in the first half-second, nor in the next.

“Hurry!” shouted Glory Girl. “It's nearly got her!”

He could see that for himself, but there was nothing he could do except try harder. The silvery wave crept closer and closer to the Triumvirate hero, and he gritted his teeth and pushed. For just a moment, it felt as though he were trying to lift that ton-weight over his head with his own arms.

And then the chord in his head sounded, and the resistance was gone. A splintering crash echoed through the room as he stumbled and leaned against the wall, unable to stand upright without its support. Shards of glass ricocheted throughout the basement. Feeling as though he'd just run a marathon, he fought for breath; his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

“Vicky? Vicky!” That was Panacea, lunging past him into the room. “Are you all right?”

“I'm here, Ames.” Glory Girl's voice came back, even as the last pieces of glass tinkled to a stop. “That was way too fucking close.”

Chunks of glass shifted from the far side of the room, and Francis saw a glittering figure climb out of a hole that hadn't been there a minute before. “I'm fine,” she said. He'd never met Alexandria, but even covered in powdered glass, she had a certain presence about her. “Would someone like to explain to me what just happened?”

Legend floated forward past Francis and pointed at the time bubble. “Bakuda trapped you in there last night. Trickster swapped you out of it just now. And there was a glass bomb involved. It's a long story.”

Alexandria looked at the bubble for the first time. “Ah, a time dilation field. It must be quite severe. I'm still seeing myself in there.” It was true; the image being conveyed from the interior of the bubble showed the iconic hero, still flying with cape outstretched behind her. As they watched, the silvery wave encroached closer and closer to her. Shit, Francis realised. It was nearer than we thought.

“That's the light that was on the way out when he swapped you,” Armsmaster agreed. “Give it another minute or so.”

“Well done.” Alexandria looked at Francis approvingly. “I presume Bakuda is in custody?”

Legend nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We were debating the merits of Birdcaging her.”

Her mouth twisted wryly. “Well, I had hopes. But after this, I'm not so sure that you're wrong.”

Skitter pointed at the time bubble. “Look.” Francis dragged his eyes over to it, just in time to see a shadow in the shape of Alexandria fade and vanish, just before the silvery wave would've enveloped her. Then the ball of glass faded into view, first the outer edges, with more and more detail filling in all the time.

Without warning, Alexandria was standing before him. “I understand I have you to thank for getting me out of there.” It wasn't a question.

By now, he felt steady enough to forego the support of the wall. Stepping forward, he doffed his hat and bent forward in a deep bow. “Trickster, ma'am,” he said.

Her eyes glinted, and her mouth pressed into a tight line. “Of the Travellers,” she said flatly.

“Of, as you say, the Travellers,” he agreed blandly. “Now, I believe that this puts you in my debt?” He was fully aware that once more, he was pushing his luck. But sometimes there was no other way to go. Go big or go home, as the saying went. Or, in this case … go big and go home.

“I believe it does,” she agreed. Her eyes met his, and a very slight nod communicated the fact that yes, she was in his debt but don't push it, buddy. “What did you have in mind for repayment?”

He let himself smile behind his mask. Bingo. “I believe that Panacea had some ideas.”

Part 22