It Gets Worse Pt 19 (Patreon)

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

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

11:50 AM

Uber

When Uber dashed into L33t's workshop, his partner was lying flat on the floor. “Bro!” he shouted. The smell of burnt insulation irritated his nose as he leaned over L33t. “Are you all right?”

L33t's eyes opened wide and he stared back at Uber. “Gah!” he blurted. Uber's relief at his buddy being alive was overshadowed by the realisation that L33t's eyes were glowing purple again. More than that, as L33t brought his hands up, Uber couldn't help but notice the lines of purple energy that were crawling over his fingers as well. Abruptly, the Tinker sat up, forcing Uber to take a step back. “Fuck me, that was a rush!”

“Yeah, but are you all right?” insisted Uber. “You just got zapped by that luck pack.” He pointed at L33t's hands. “You're glowing again. Was that the good luck or the bad luck?”

Slowly, carefully, L33t climbed to his feet. “Both,” he mumbled. “I was transconnecting them to try to cancel out the load so I could safely work on them.” He examined his hands, turning them one way and then the other as the thin purple lines slowly crawled over his skin. “Well, that's new.”

“So do you feel lucky or unlucky?” asked Uber practically. “If you build something, is it gonna be awesome or is it gonna make a crater?”

“Hmm.” L33t grimaced. “Shit. That's definitely something I need to worry about now, isn't it? Lucky killed the Nine. What'll unlucky do?”

“I don't know, but I really, really don't want to find out.” Uber frowned in thought. “Wait a minute. Say something dramatic.”

“What?” L33t looked at him as though he were insane.

“Say something dramatic,” Uber reiterated patiently. “If you're still lucky, it'll sound cool. But if you're unlucky, it'll probably only make you look stupid.”

“Yeah, like that's never happened before,” muttered L33t. He took a deep breath, then clenched his fist and raised it toward the ceiling. “I'm gonna make something AWESOME!” he yelled.

kkk-KKK-KRAK-KKK-BOOOOOM-MMM-mmm-mmm

Uber blinked. He was pretty sure the sky had been clear. “One second,” he said, and he pulled out his phone. It only took him a moment to find out that there was no rain in the offing. “What the hell …?” he murmured. Then he looked up from the phone to see that L33t was already back at the workbench, feverishly sorting through components.

“Uh, are you rebuilding the luck guns?” he asked hopefully. The luck guns weren't something that he really understood, but for a brief shining hour they'd lifted him and L33t out of the rut of being the idiot villains of Brockton Bay.

“Nope!” L33t's reply was manic. “Wouldn't work anyway! I'm gonna make something better! Two somethings! 'Cause I can still do that!” He began to assemble the parts he'd grabbed, his fingers almost blurring. Uber watched, fascinated, as the purple energy played over the device that was coming together. “This was a triumph!” L33t cackled.

“Oh, shit,” muttered Uber. “Here we go again.” He had no idea what L33t was building now, or what they were going to do with it, but he had a sneaking suspicion it would be both terrifying and exhilarating … and he didn't intend to miss a goddamn moment of it.

<><>

Winslow High Cafeteria

Taylor

I looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “Was that thunder?” I asked. “Because I'm sure the sky was clear, earlier.” Turning my head, I peered out the window. “It's still clear.”

“Wasn't thunder,” Lisa said cheerfully. She leaned back in her seat and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “It was a signal.”

“Signal?” I asked in confusion. “Who to? Me?” I shook my head. “And I'm still not sure why you're here with me.” I looked pointedly at her, then over at Brian who was working his way through the line. Alec sat off at the side of the cafeteria, looking altogether too cheerful for someone who didn't have to be there. “I mean, isn't high school kind of beneath you, and all?”

“The signal's not for you,” Lisa assured me. “It's your power at work. Stuff's going down, big stuff.” She smiled beatifically. “We don't have to worry about it. Anyway, we're just here to have fun with our bestie, today. Coil told me to stick with you so I'm sticking with you. Rachel doesn't like crowds, so she's caring for her dogs. Brian heard there's still some Empire morons in the school, though, and he feels like kicking heads. And with Alec, it's generally just a good idea to stand back and award points for style.”

“O … kay,” I said uncertainly. “Am I ever going to find out what that was about?” Even as I asked the question, I wondered if I really wanted to know.

“Sorry.” Lisa shrugged. “I'm good, but I don't do miracles.” Something about her grin told me that even if she knew, she wasn't about to tell me.

“Sure,” I said. “Okay.” It was kind of weird to have Lisa treat me with absolute deference some of the time, then cheerfully ignore my most pointed hints at others. While I was pretty sure she was carefully ensuring my well-being and happiness, sometimes it got a little irritating. Though not irritating enough, it seemed, for my power to do anything about it.

“Oh, hey,” Lisa said, sitting up once more. “The main event approaches.”

“Main event?” I asked. “What?” Turning my head, I saw immediately what she was talking about. Emma. God damn it. Just when I was having a good day, too. I began to regret letting Lisa talk me into eating at the cafeteria for once. While I had no doubt that Brian and Alec could remove Emma and her coterie from my presence with ease, it would also get me more unwelcome attention.

“Relax,” murmured Lisa. “I've got this.” Her grin grew wider until it was positively carnivorous. Pulling her phone out, she began to play with it.

Emma stomped her way up to us with Madison flanking her. She didn't look at all thrilled to see me, which wasn't surprising. The last time I'd seen her was upside down next to a toilet, and I'd been laughing too hard to see straight.

“Taylor,” she said sharply. “I'm surprised you've got the nerve to come back here.” She let her gaze rest dismissively on Lisa, who was chuckling at something on her phone. “Who's this? Someone you paid to sit next to you so you can pretend not to be such a total loser?”

“Nope.” Lisa came to her feet in one lithe move, stepping into Emma's personal space and even managing to loom over her slightly. I'd wondered why she'd worn thick-soled shoes today. “I'm her best friend now. One of them, anyway. You're Emma, aren't you? I thought you looked familiar. This is you, isn't it?” She showed Emma her phone.

Being a redhead, Emma had naturally pale skin, but at the sight of the photo she went red with anger. I could even guess which one it was. “Fuck off!” she shouted, swinging her hand to knock the phone away. “This is between me and Taylor! Get the fuck away from me with that!”

Lisa pulled her hand back just in time for Emma's attempt to miss. “Oh, you don't want to see pictures of yourself? Huh. I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity, even for a model. I thought maybe you could sell toilets with this one.” She shrugged. “Fine. Want to see some pictures of Taylor? In fact, I've got some footage.” Her smile went all the way past vulpine to lupine; from sneaky to savage. “Have a look.”

The footage must have been cued up, ready to go. Emma's eyes were drawn to the tiny screen as the imagery played out. I could hear the tiny voices—heard my voice, in fact.

“No, you won't. I'm the only reason Glory Girl isn't taking your head off your shoulders right now. She's right, you know. You have lost. You lost the moment you entered the city. And you really lost the moment you threatened my life.”

Emma blinked and stared, and I realised that through some sheer fluke of chance, she hadn't actually seen this footage yet. She and Madison watched the drama play out, fascinated despite themselves. The voices became indistinct, until Uber and L33t showed up. “Halt, evildoer!” That was Uber. “The Siberian has been trapped and your comrades vanquished! Release your hostage and surrender, or face our wrath!” Emma's eyes opened a little wider at that, for which I didn't blame her. Uber's speech had been too cheesy for words. Still, what followed a few moments later made her jaw drop, as well as Madison's. The shattering crash, made tinny by the phone speakers, was perfectly audible.

Lisa let it run a few more seconds, probably to the point where I was straightening up with the knife in my hand and the butterflies all over me, then stopped it. “In case you're wondering, yes, that was indeed Jack Slash.” Her voice was innocently cheerful, but her eyes held the glint of a predator on the hunt. “That happened yesterday. Taylor is getting the bounty for his death. Yes, Emma, this does mean that she and her father are now quite a bit richer than your father, by a factor of about a hundred or so. Yes, this also means that you and Madison are in deep shit, especially when the court hears about how you violated the temporary restraining order they placed on you while they decide how to handle the allegations against you.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “In other words, fuck off and don't ever come back.”

It was amazing. I couldn't even begin to describe how it felt to have someone else say that to Emma in such a blunt, uncompromising tone. Right then, I resolved to get Lisa the biggest box of chocolates I could find.

“You can't tell me—” began Emma hotly.

“Yeah, she can.” That was Brian, right behind them, carrying a tray with all our food on it. “And so can I.” Despite the fact that the tray wasn't that heavy, he flexed his arms. Muscles bunched and moved in a very impressive display of brawn. Also, one of the several reasons I liked having him around. “Fuck. Off.” His expression was nothing less than forbidding—all aimed at them.

Madison turned and eeped, which wasn't much of a surprise given that Brian was somewhere north of six feet, whereas Madison was about five foot nothing and would've made up about one-quarter his weight. She wilted under his glare and began to slink away off to the side.

Emma was made of sterner stuff, or maybe she was just more stubbornly idiotic. She gave Brian a defiant look, then snatched a plastic bowl of something wobbly from the tray and went to throw it at me. However, halfway through the motion, her hand blatantly changed direction, causing the bowl to fly a short distance upward and an even shorter distance downward. Emma, looking up at its brief flight, received the entire contents in her face; half of which then slid down on to her extremely expensive-looking blouse.

“Fuuck!” she burbled through the wobbly face-coating. I wasn't sure if it was grey custard or yellowish tapioca. As Lisa and I watched with both bemusement and amusement, she stumbled away from us, clawing at her face. All over the cafeteria, phones were being produced as if by magic.

Certain that the mishap had been anything but an accident, I glanced over at where Alec sat. He grinned and gave me a little fingertip-wave back. I decided that he'd get something nice too. Maybe a gaming arcade all of his own. “So who ordered the tapioca, or custard, or whatever it was?” I asked as I turned back to Lisa and Brian. “I know I didn't.”

Brian shrugged. “Search me. It ended up on the tray somehow, but I didn't order it and they didn't charge me for it.”

“Gee, I wonder how that could've happened.” Lisa gave me a smirk that told me she knew exactly what had happened.

I smirked right back. “Damn right.” My powers were awesome.

Life was definitely looking up.

<><>

Amy

“Wow, that was loud.” Amy looked up at the sky. “What was that? It sounded like thunder, but there isn't a cloud in the sky.”

“It wasn't thunder,” Eidolon explained as they began to swoop down toward Arcadia. “It was Alexandria breaking the sound barrier. We got a report from Dragon that the Simurgh was acting oddly and glancing toward this region, so Alexandria's been scouting the area to see if anything's amiss.” He tapped the side of his helmet to show how he knew this. “Nothing so far,” he added in response to her unasked question. “She's probably just messing with us.”

“Huh.” Amy shrugged. “Hope that's all it is.” She and Blasto had been collaborating on the food plant all morning, and now she was hungry. Lunch time beckoned.

“With any luck, yes,” Eidolon agreed. “But your idea worked out perfectly. I'm not sure why we didn't think of regional variations for the plant.”

“I suppose it all depends on what assumptions you're starting from.” Amy leaned against the side of the force-field bubble. “If you're assuming you're working with just one version, it's hard to think outside that box.”

“I suppose so.” Eidolon grounded the bubble and opened it for her. “I'll be in contact when I need more feedback for my project. You've got a knack for making connections that I can't.”

“Uh, sure.” She waved goodbye as she stepped down on to the ground. “I hope it all goes well.”

“To be honest, me too.” Eidolon returned the wave and dissolved the bubble. Flying under his own power, he started upward again.

Amy watched him go, hugging herself with happiness. Eidolon wants me to work with him!

The inner glow lasted all afternoon.

<><>

New York Protectorate Firing Range

3:30 PM

Legend

“All right then!” Legend paced across the deck of the barge before the assembled Wards. “This will be a live fire exercise. There is nothing behind your target except a lot of ocean.” He pointed at the far end of the barge, which was a hundred feet away from them. Dotted on the deck from the fifty foot mark all the way to the far rail were silhouette targets. Some of these were easy to recognise as famous (or infamous) villains, while others were extremely generic. “So we don't mind if you miss. Just don't miss downward. Anyone who sinks the barge gets to swim back to shore.” He gave them a brief smile to indicate that he was joking. Mostly. “Is there anyone who doesn't understand anything I've just said?”

Nobody said a word or moved a hand upward. Legend sighed; this could mean that everyone understood, or that everyone was waiting on someone else to say something. “Flechette,” he said, just because she was standing at the front. “Did you understand everything I said?”

“We've got plenty of room and I'm not to miss downward?” Flechette asked.

“Yes, exactly.” Legend smiled at her. “Did you want to go first?” He gestured at a collection of rods, dowels and other objects he'd made sure to stock the barge with. “All yours.”

“Um, sure.” She didn't step forward immediately; instead, she pulled her hair back more securely and put a second tie on it. “Just in case.”

“Very wise,” he murmured. “In your own time.” Stepping back out of the way, he rose into the air so as to better gauge her shot. Flechette was almost always dead on target, no matter the extraneous conditions, so this would normally have been a formality. However, both she and he were determined to erase the embarrassing episode of that morning, once and for all.

He watched as she picked up a piece of wood, six inches square and four feet long. It wasn't light, but she was able to lift it with some effort. Then she applied her power to it, and almost immediately it became much easier for her to lift. Stepping out in front of the assembled Wards, she lined up with her improvised missile. Legend could tell that she was aiming to take out two targets with the same shot. “Permission to shoot!” she called out.

“Granted!” he replied.

She heaved, and the bulky piece of wood shot straight down the deck in a perfectly flat trajectory. It neither slowed nor dipped as it approached the first target. Hitting at 'chest' level, it punched a six-inch square out of it.

For a split second, Legend thought he saw the distant faded green of vegetation rather than the grey of the deck through the hole, but his eyes were already moving on to the next target, expecting that one to also have a large square hole in it. To his confusion no such thing had happened, and when he moved his eyes back, the view through the hole was normal. In fact, all the targets after the first one were untouched, and the projectile was nowhere to be seen. “Huh?”

Flechette's face slowly creased in a frown. “Wait a minute. What just happened to the piece of wood that I just threw?”

“That's what I was wondering.” Legend drifted down next to the farther target and examined it closely. Not even a nick had been taken out of it. “Where were you standing?” he asked.

“Right here,” she said, pointing at her feet. “I haven't moved.”

“Hm. Stay right there.” Legend created a low-powered beam that touched the centre of the target he was next to, then made a ruler-straight line toward the target that she'd perforated. Continuing on, the beam ended up lightly resting on her right shoulder. “Okay, you can't bend your shots, right?”

“No.” Her tone was uncompromising. “My shots don't even bend for things like gravity or wind speed. And it shouldn't have vanished halfway there.” She stared at the targets again. “What the hell happened to the thing I threw?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Try again and I'll keep my eyes on it all the way this time.”

“Sure, okay.” She picked up a length of broom-handle and treated it with her power. “Permission to shoot?”

He moved well off to the side. As hard as he was to hurt, her power was one of the few that could theoretically kill him. “Granted.”

She hurled the broomstick. It went straight through the first hole, then made a neat circle in the next target, after which it sped out over the ocean until her power wore off. There was a distant splash. Legend looked down at Flechette, who was staring up at him. She spread her hands. “So what the hell happened to the big one?”

Legend frowned. “I'm not entirely sure. Wait here.” Rising into the air, he scanned the area closely for any sign of a floating piece of wood. He only found one, and it wasn't the one he was looking for.

Where did it go?

<><>

Under a Deserted Town in Upstate New York

Saint

“We've got to power it down!” shouted Geoff. “Everyone, look for an emergency shutoff!” He reasoned that every Tinker put a kill-switch on their doomsday devices. Even String Theory. He hoped. “We're thirty feet underground! If this thing goes off, it'll dig a trench from here to Boston and advertise our presence to everyone!”

“Maybe not dig a trench,” Mags said. “Now that I think about it, there was a water tower directly behind the store. Maybe she's using it as a beam guide?”

“Which lights a giant fucking beacon to guide everyone, including Dragon, in to see what's going on!” Geoff retorted. “We've got to shut this thing down now!”

“Do not let knickers get caught in knot, Geoff,” Mischa advised him. “Also, do not yell at Mags. She is trying to help.” He pointed at a large square box attached to the wall. “What is in there?”

“Flashlight,” Mags said, grabbing the pry bar from Mischa. Heading to the box, she wedged the bar in behind the hasp and heaved. There was a loud snap as the metal gave way. As Geoff pointed the flashlight, she pulled the box front open. “Bingo.”

“Let me see.” Geoff stepped in close, shining the flashlight over what she'd found. Mounted on a panel was a red button, beside a large switch with several positions. OFF was to the extreme left. The switch was pointed at LOW. Then there were MEDIUM, HIGH and FUCK YOU. “Okay, does anyone think this should be switched to anything but 'off'?”

“Well, duh.” Mags rolled her eyes.

“Great.” Geoff reached in toward the switch. Just as his fingers made contact, he inhaled a few more dust particles than normal. A gigantic sneeze racked his body, and he heard a deep click. When his watering eyes opened again, he realised that the humming noise in the room had deepened. The switch was now on MEDIUM.

“Geoff, what did you do?” Mischa's tone was despairing. “It is to turn off, not up!”

“I sneezed, okay? Shit happens.” Geoff reached for the switch again. “I'll turn it off now.” Just to make sure he wouldn't sneeze a second time, he held his breath while reaching for the switch. His fingers took hold of it and he prepared to flick it over to the left … just as a cockroach that had been lurking up under the top edge of the box dropped on to his hand and scuttled up his sleeve. “Fuck!” he yelped, jerking his hand back. Click.

“Geoff, you idiot!”

“Geoff, nyet!”

Both of them yelled out at the same time. Nobody could get close to the box because he was dancing around, swinging his arm in great arcs. Finally, the cockroach let go and flew out of his sleeve, and he became aware that the humming was deeper again. Not wanting to see what he knew he was going to see, he looked at the box. The switch was now pointing at HIGH. When he looked at the gun, the LEDs indicating charge were dancing up and down in the red range, which didn't look ominous at all.

“Out of the way!” Mags yelled over the rising hum. Dust was sifting down from the ceiling now. “I'm gonna turn the fuckin' thing off!”

“I can do it!” Geoff shouted back. It was just a fucking switch. About the least complicated of all electrical devices in the world. If he could get the better of a complex device like Dragon, he could master a simple switch. “I'm not gonna sneeze, and there's no more cockroaches. I got this.” He reached for the switch a third time.

“No!” shouted Mags and grabbed him by the arm.

“Be careful!” Mischa bellowed from the other side, and jostled him as he was trying to push Mags away. His hand hit the switch. Click.

The hum was now a roar. Overhead, the lights had turned to a flashing red. On the gun, all charge meters were showing solid red, and were pulsing. The switch on the panel was, of course, all the way over to FUCK YOU.

“Get out of the fucking way!” screamed Mags, shoving Geoff aside. She reached for the switch and tried to turn it to the left. It resisted. She tried harder, until her fingernails turned white from the pressure, but to no avail. “Fuck! It won't move!”

“Let me try!” Mischa shouted. Mags stepped aside for him, and he grasped the switch in his thick fingers. He was stronger than Mags; all three of them knew that. But try as he might, the switch refused to travel back the other way.

“Press the button!” yelled Geoff, pointing at the other item in the box. “That might unlock it!”

“Or blow us all up!” Mags glared at him. “Can't you just leave fucking well enough alone?”

“Or it might not!” Leaning in, Geoff grabbed the switch and tried to turn it, while he jammed the red button all the way to the panel.

“Geoff!”

“Idiot!”

The pulsing lights up and down the gun flashed faster and faster. In the confined space, the overpressure of the noise beat on their eardrums, forcing them to their knees. The roar rose to a shriek. And then …

… the gun fired.

With a sound like the world's biggest bug-zapper going off, the gun launched a beam of ravening destruction from the far end. At the same time, a blue arc appeared around the end of the muzzle, swallowing the blast altogether. Huh, thought Geoff blankly. That must be how she intended to get the shot out of here. Wonder where it was aimed at.

For long seconds, the gun discharged its immense beam, until just as suddenly as it started, it cut off. The blue-rimmed arc disappeared and the red lights ceased flashing. The hum began to die down.

“Well,” Geoff said, feeling his heart rate start to slow down. “That wasn't so ba—”

Abruptly, the red lights flashed again, and the hum rapidly built to its previous level. A speaker crackled to life, pitched to overcome even the ear-splitting roar. Even at this volume, it was impossible to mistake the now-Birdcaged Tinker's voice.

“FUUUCK YOU!”

<><>

A Few Minutes Before, in Brockton Bay

Uber and L33t's Base

Uber

“Okay,” Uber said carefully. “You've made …”

“Portal guns!” L33t replied gleefully. “One each! This one's yours!” He was still a little manic, but the purple energy no longer crawled over his hands or glowed from his eyes.

Cautiously, Uber accepted the bulbous device that L33t handed him. “And you made two of them?”

“Yup! I even made them self-recharging and self-repairing!” L33t took up his own portal gun and pointed it at the far wall. “Okay, time to test these bad boys out.”

“Wait.” Uber was examining his gun carefully. There was a small switch built into the side that he didn't recall from the game. “What's this do?” It had 'S' next to it.

L33t frowned as he leaned in to stare at it, then did the same with his. “Huh. I have no idea. It just came together that way.”

“Whoa.” Uber wasn't exactly happy about that. “And you don't know what it does?” Which was a big red flag in his mind.

L33t shrugged. “Safety catch?” He flicked the switch over and pointed it at the wall. Clicking the trigger once didn't do anything, so he clicked it again and held it down while waving it in circles and figure-eights. Letting the trigger off, he shrugged again. “Safety catch.”

Uber, who had tensed up everywhere when L33t pulled the trigger the first time, allowed himself to relax. “Holy fuck. Warn me next time.”

“Meh. Warnings are for pussies.” L33t flicked the switch over and pulled the trigger. Instantly, a blue-rimmed circle appeared directly ahead of him, and an orange-rimmed circle across the room. He jumped through, appearing on the other side of the orange-rimmed circle. “Woo! It works!”

“Well, I'll be damned.” Uber flicked his safety catch off, and aimed at an unoccupied section of room. “Self-recharging and self-repairing? We're gonna have fun with these.”

<><>

Somewhere over the Midwest

Zion

The Warrior paused, turning. The third Conflict Generator's odd behaviour had escalated. Now, it was convulsing in a mimicry of human laughter while making an odd single-fingered gesture in his general direction. He felt his Thinker powers kicking into action, attempting to determine if what she was doing was some kind of attack.

An orange-rimmed circle sprang into being just behind him. His inhuman senses detected it, but in the hundredth of a second interval between detection and actually doing something about it, an empowered length of wood emerged from the portal and smashed into the small of his back. The Sting aspect of its empowerment disrupted his projected avatar and it popped like a soap bubble, leaving behind the hole in space that led back to the pocket universe where he kept his main body.

Rapidly, he began to construct another avatar. He was under attack now, and he knew exactly by whom. Or rather, he knew one of the powers involved. The portal had had a Tinker flavour to it, so he would have to cull Tinkers from the world as well. He was only a second or so into the construction of the avatar when another orange-rimmed portal opened up, this time inside the hole in space that led to the 'real' universe.

From this portal blasted a ravening beam of destructive energy that tore into his vulnerable body, carving miles-deep trenches through his sensitive tissues. The first shard to go was the one governing his combat prediction. After that, the beam swung back and forth in infinity-symbol arcs, inexorably shredding his very essence. Random though the beam's progression may have seemed, it might have been directed by a malevolent intelligence that could anticipate his every move. It sought out and destroyed each of the other shards he would have used to defend himself, until his body lay in ruins. With one last contemptuous slash, it ripped asunder the shard he was using to keep the dimensional hole open.

The energy beam cut out and the portal vanished, but the damage was done. He barely had any shards left, and all of those were damaged. His access to the real universe had been destroyed and he was dying, his last few thoughts draining away with his life force.

With that final awareness came an understanding of what the Conflict Generator had been laughing about.

[… FUCK.]

<><>

Uber

“Safety catch, huh?” mused Uber. He flicked the switch and clicked the trigger. Sure enough, nothing happened. “Well, I'll be damned. It actually works.” Flicking it back, he aimed the portal gun at the fridge then pulled the trigger again. Reaching through the portal that popped up, he opened the fridge and took out a beer.

“This,” he declared, “is your best invention yet.” Popping the cap off the beer, he took a long drink.

“I know, right?”

<><>

Cauldron Base

Doctor Mother

“... say that again?” Doctor Mother watched her main enforcer carefully, trying to decipher the meaning of her words.

Contessa didn't change her intonation. “I said, five minutes ago, Scion … disappeared. Vanished. He doesn't register on any of my Paths any more.”

Doctor Mother reached for the button which would sound the alarm to bring Cauldron to a full war footing. It was too early, far too early. Two years were better than fourteen, but now was too soon! “Do you think he's attacking?”

“No.” Contessa spread her hands. “I don't think he's anywhere. I think he … left, maybe? Or he's decided to go into hibernation? All I know is that his particular brand of interference isn't showing up on any Path I run.” She frowned. “But that's not the only odd thing that was going on.”

This didn't sound good. “What else?” asked Doctor Mother warily. She hated it when Contessa said something was strange.

“Apparently the Simurgh was showing signs of amusement. Actual laughter.”

Doctor Mother shook her head at the sheer inconceivability of what Contessa was saying. “The Simurgh isn't human. She only resembles it. She doesn't laugh.”

“She was laughing,” Contessa maintained. “And giving him the finger.”

“And then Scion disappeared.” Doctor Mother tried to cling to the only thing that actually made sense. Scion could disappear. He'd shown powers that could do many things. But for the Simurgh to exhibit such human traits as laughter and rude gestures … no.

“Scion is nowhere I can find,” Contessa insisted. “Even when I run Paths far into the future, he doesn't interfere with them.”

“Keep checking.” Doctor Mother eased her hand away from the button. “Let me know if anything changes.” She distrusted this in the extreme, but no attack was better than a confirmed attack. “If he shows up anywhere, I want to know.”

“Understood.” Contessa turned and walked out of the office. Doctor Mother breathed a careful sigh and leaned back in her chair. She had no idea what was going on.

What game is Scion playing now?

A loud “Whaaagh!” interrupted her musings, and she jumped to her feet. That had been Contessa's voice, but she'd never heard the self-possessed younger woman yelp like that. Going to her office door, she looked into the corridor, to find Contessa sprawled underneath none other than the Number Man. Both of them looked extremely confused, not to mention ruffled.

“What the hell happened to you two?” she asked as she watched Contessa get to her feet, rubbing a part of her anatomy that was likely to be bruising soon. Which was, she suspected, possibly the first bruise that Contessa had suffered since she got her powers.

“I was making a sandwich and a portal opened under my feet,” the Number Man answered crisply.

“And dumped him on top of me!” snapped Contessa, peeling a slice of buttered bread off her head. She sounded remarkably irritated, another first in Doctor Mother's experience. Contessa didn't get upset. She got even.

“You have to—no, that's not possible!” Doctor Mother shook her head. “Doormaker doesn't really even grasp the concept of a prank!” At least, she hoped so. If the Cauldron cape who provided safe interdimensional travel for all of them was acquiring a sense of humour, things could get very bad, very fast.

“It wasn't him,” Contessa said at once. “For one thing, the portal was circular and had an orange rim to it.”

“It was blue from my side. Ow,” said the Number Man. Patting the floor, he found his glasses and put them back on. “Okay, so who else knows about us and has the brass balls to prank us inside our own base?”

“The number of people who match that description approaches zero,” Doctor Mother said flatly.

Contessa climbed to her feet. “And this on top of Scion going missing and the Simurgh acting weird.” She grimaced. “I have a potential suspect, but I don't intend to investigate.”

That got her stared at. “Kindly explain that,” requested Doctor Mother. Contessa rarely said things like that, but she always meant them.

“Yes, please,” the Number Man added. “I really want to know what makes you say 'hell, nope'.”

Contessa sighed. “You might recall I briefed you both on a new trigger last week? The one that was shifting all my Paths around in a certain area? She's got luck-based powers, and every day that goes by just gives her more variables to play with. Her trigger was two weeks ago, and in that time she's removed every large villain team in her city, via a series of improbable coincidences. Kaiser got punched into the cellar by a ton of blue ice, Lung got tarred and feathered, and so forth. Yesterday, she killed Jack Slash by making a piano fall on him. The day before that, the Siberian was defeated by a pair of joke villains with a Ghostbusters ghost trap. Oh, and Coil is now working for her, as he's apparently terrified of what will happen if he doesn't.”

This was news to Doctor Mother. She'd been mildly interested in how Coil was going in his little experiment, but for him to surrender utterly to another parahuman was not what she'd expected.

The Number Man whistled softly. “That's kind of impressive. So you haven't gone in to chat with her why, exactly? She sounds like the perfect recruit.”

Contessa shook her head violently. “You're not listening. Her power sees you coming. Jack Slash's death was the culmination of a series of events that started ten days ago. He was dragged there by her power three days ago, whereupon the Nine was systematically dismantled by a series of perfectly normal but impossibly orchestrated events. Every time I try to run a Path to influence her, I get a very simple result. 'Step one: buy chocolates and flowers. Step two: abandon any hope of actually making her do anything that's not in her own self-interest. Step three: be extremely polite.' And when I tried to run a Path just now to find out who did this, I had to terminate it because I was about to be hit in the face by a banana cream pie!” She threw up her hands. “I can't work around her, because her power's already worked around me!”

“Well, fuck,” the Number Man said blankly. “What do we do now?”

Contessa looked him straight in the eye. “Stay out of her way. Don't do anything that might upset her. If you ever do encounter her, be very, very polite.”

Some days, Doctor Mother decided, it just didn't pay to get out of bed. “What's her name, at least?” she asked.

“I am not tempting fate like that.” Contessa shook her head. “The PRT calls her 'Butterfly'. You can find out her real name for yourself. Word of warning: don't mess with her.” Leaving Doctor Mother staring, she turned and headed off down the corridor, with the stride of someone who had someplace to be and not much time to get there.

Well, that happened. Doctor Mother turned to look at the Number Man. “Is it just me, or did she seem … scared?”

He snorted. “Her, scared? That's … “ He trailed off, his expression sobering.

She finished for him. “Terrifying.”

Is this what everyone else feels like, around us?

<><>

Contessa

Path to calming down.

Step one: go to quarters.

Contessa walked down the corridor and entered her quarters.

Step two: disrobe.

She stripped out of her clothing.

Step three: turn on the shower.

She turned on the shower.

Step four: get in the shower.

She stepped under the hot spray.

Step five: sit down.

She lowered herself to a seated position.

Step six: hug your knees.

She was beginning to shudder as she wrapped her arms around her knees. The hot shower pounded on her head and back as she rocked gently from side to side. It really did help, just a little.

“It's you, isn't it?” she whispered. “You did it. You killed Scion. You're the one who made the Simurgh laugh. You're more powerful than anyone imagines. And nobody will ever know. Nobody but me.” And I'll never, ever tell.

The shuddering overtook her as she buried her face in her knees. The tears flowed down her face and her shoulders heaved but then or later, she would never be sure if she was laughing or crying.

<><>

An Hour Later

Dragon

The explosion had been quite impressive on Dragon's satellite imagery and the crater was even more so, now that she was on site to view it. As she banked her suit over the still-smoking hole that had been blasted out of the local terrain, she spotted a familiar dark-clad figure rising up to meet her. Adjusting course, she slowed to a hover while her instruments continued to gather data from the surrounding area.

“Alexandria,” she said in greeting as the head of the LA branch of the Protectorate came up alongside her. “You made good time.”

“I was already in the general area, trying to spot any problems that the Simurgh might've been causing,” Alexandria said. “Heard the explosion and saw the mushroom cloud, so I came to investigate.”

Mushroom clouds, Dragon knew quite well, were not solely a product of nuclear explosions. Any sufficiently large and energetic detonation could cause one. All the same, she doubled down on her radiation-sensing sweeps, just in case. After all, a hole this size could easily have been caused by something in the tac-nuke range. “No radiation worth worrying about,” she said. “Some exotic energies lingering around, but they seem to be fading.” She turned her head to look at Alexandria. “Have you found anything?”

“Quite a bit of debris, mostly from the town that used to be here,” Alexandria noted. “But I did find something that should help shed some light on the situation.” She held up an object the size of her palm which had been scorched and twisted to a degree that made identifying it almost impossible.

Raising her vision input to its highest magnification, Dragon thought she could make out circuitry. More specifically, a type of circuitry that had not been assembled in any factory. “Is that … Tinkertech?”

Alexandria smiled. “Give the lady a cigar. Now look at this side of it.” Turning the item, she revealed a relatively untouched flat section. Into that section had been etched a well-known, if infamous, logo. Two letters, 'S' and 'T', tangled together by threads.

“String Theory,” Dragon realised at once. She threw up a query concerning the name, and got back an answer almost immediately. “Wasn't she arrested near here?”

“Yes,” Alexandria confirmed. “I was in on that bust. She had a base, but nothing of any note was under construction even though she'd issued a threat of knocking the moon out of orbit. We should've considered the possibility of a secondary base.”

Dragon pondered that. “As I understand, her tech works on a timer. If she doesn't use it within a given interval, it malfunctions. I'm guessing that 'exploding' is a malfunction.” It was an elegant theory that fit all the available evidence.

Alexandria nodded. “That definitely makes a lot of sense.” She tossed up the piece of Tinkertech and caught it again. “Just on the off-chance that there was someone snooping around here before it went boom, can you detect any life signs?”

That was one of the many things Dragon had been scanning for. “None,” she replied. “Anything that was in the radius of destruction is dead. Anything that was outside it is staying well away from the blast zone, for obvious reasons.”

“No surprise there,” Alexandria noted with a snort of dry amusement. “The only thing now is to figure out how this relates to Scion's disappearance.”

Dragon wasn't sure what she meant, so she cross-checked the data and discovered the interesting fact that the explosion had taken place precisely seventeen point three seconds after Scion's golden form had vanished from the sky, halfway across the country. “That can't be a coincidence,” she agreed. “The Simurgh stopped laughing, by the way. Two minutes after Scion disappeared. So there's a high degree of probability that it's all connected. How it's connected I'm still not sure, but I'm certain there's a connection.”

“You raise a frighteningly important question,” Alexandria admitted. “Unfortunately, we're going to need many more data points before I'm even going to hazard a guess on the matter.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Dragon assured her, then looked over the area around the crater. “No promises, though.”

Alexandria shrugged. They both knew that 'no promises' was a fact of cape life.

<><>

One Week Later

New York City

Jamie Nightingale's Apartment

Jamie glowered at the oven. She really didn't like cooking, not least because juggling hot items in and out of the oven was made all the more difficult when a wheelchair was involved. But she wanted to be independent, and so occasionally she pushed herself to do the things she didn't like. Case in point: today she was making a lasagne. Normally, she only made enough for one sitting, but she'd lucked on to a special at the supermarket so she had a quadruple-sized batch in the pan, ready to go.

It still didn't mean she liked it, but she needed to go ahead and do it if she wanted to eat over the next few days. So she opened the oven door and took the pan down from the bench. Just as she was sliding it into the oven, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” she called out. She made sure of the placement of the pan, shut the oven door, and double-checked the temperature setting. Then she hung the tea-towel around her neck, spun the wheelchair in a half-circle and headed for the door.

When she opened the front door, a deliveryman stood there with a large wrapped parcel in his hands. “Delivery for apartment two-thirty-six?” he droned. She was sure he was already focusing on his next delivery, but the trouble was that she didn't think she hadn't ordered anything recently.

“This is apartment two-thirty-six,” she confirmed. “But I don't think I …”

“Thizizyourz,” he grunted, dumping the twenty-pound parcel on to her lap. “Havanizeday.”

“Wait!” she protested, but he'd already turned away. It nearly rolled off her lap, but she caught it in time. It felt cold in her hands and on her legs, but she quickly realised that it was a leg of ham. The delivery guy was already out of sight, and she looked down at the parcel. As she'd expected, it hadn't actually been addressed to her, but a couple of smears and a single artfully-placed rip on the label might've made it look that way to someone who wasn't really paying attention.

“What are the odds?” she wondered as she rolled herself back far enough to close and lock the door. Of course, she couldn't keep it. It wasn't hers. She'd have to decipher the apartment number from the mess of the label and figure out to get it to them. In the meantime, she decided to shove it in the fridge so it wouldn't go rancid.

She'd just closed the refrigerator door when the doorbell rang a second time. “Typical,” she muttered. “Now he comes back to get it. Coming!” she called, raising her voice. Opening the fridge door, she took out the leg of ham again. She was happy that she didn't have to track down its rightful owner after all, but the guy's timing left a lot to be desired.

Wheeling herself back to the front door with the ham on her lap was a pain, but she just wanted it off her hands. Jerking open the door, she snapped, “Took your own sweet time getting back to me.”

“Excuse me?” asked Eidolon.

<><>

Panacea

“ … so I thought it was the delivery guy coming back,” Jamie said. “Sorry. Didn't mean to yell at you.” She looked from where Eidolon sat on the sofa to where Amy perched beside him. “Or at you. I don't normally snap at guests.” She looked and sounded embarrassed for her outburst. “Especially when it's two superheroes.”

“Look, it's okay,” Amy assured her. “I've been yelled at before. More than once, in fact. Sometimes I even deserved it.” Carol's career as a lawyer, as it turned out, had taken a naturally sharp tongue and honed it to a razor's edge. She shrugged. Jamie's outburst had barely made her radar.

“Oh.” Jamie sniffed. “Wait, sorry. I've just got to check on my lasagne.” She spun the chair around with remarkable agility and wheeled herself toward what Amy guessed was the kitchen.

Amy didn't say anything, but the smell of the lasagne was utterly mouth-watering. Whatever recipe Eidolon's lady friend used, she'd hit it right on the mark. But the smell wasn't what got her attention about the whole situation. What really caused her antennae to quiver was the ex-cop's description of how she'd just so happened to have a lasagne cooking at exactly the right moment that two guests dropped in. At the back of her mind was the image of a totally untroubled girl standing next to a man with a knife, and a falling piano. I know of someone who sets up coincidences like this without even trying …

Right on cue, Jamie wheeled back into sight in the kitchen doorway. “Uh, you wouldn't want to stay for dinner, would you? I mean, this was meant to last me several days, so I've got plenty …?”

In her tone, Amy read an aching loneliness and something more. She likes him. A lot. Eidolon had spoken of Jamie Nightingale with admiration, but nothing more. Is it possible that he doesn't know how she feels about him? She had no idea why Taylor Hebert might be trying to set up Eidolon of all people with a girlfriend, but she'd seen what happened to people who got on Taylor's bad side, and she had no intention of doing that.

“Oh, uh, we really shouldn't be imposing on you—” Eidolon's automatic excuse stuttered to a halt when Amy's elbow surreptitiously jabbed him in the body armour over his ribs.

“Sure we would,” the teenager enthused. “It smells delicious, Miss Nightingale. And it's been ages since I've had a good lasagne. What about you, Eidolon?” She elbowed him again. His helmet turned toward her, and she hissed, “Say yes! Trust me on this!”

In her opinion, it took him far too long to get the hint. “Uh … on the other hand … yes?”

Jamie beamed.

<><>

Eidolon

David's first instinct was to leave. He liked Jamie well enough—in fact, he liked her more than a little—but being offered a home-cooked meal was somewhat out of his experience. Of course, quite a lot of what he'd been doing recently was out of his experience. So when Panacea insisted that they stay and take Jamie up on her offer, he'd agreed.

Which led to the next awkward situation. He followed Panacea through to the dining space and was about to sit down when he realised that both Panacea and Jamie were looking at him oddly. “What?” he asked.

“Does … your visor lift up or something?” asked Panacea. “I mean, Kid Win's only covers down to his nose. Clockblocker's got a full face helmet, but if he thinks he's going to be opening his visor, he wears a domino mask under it.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Ah.” For a moment, he considered just making an excuse and leaving. Though if he did this, he strongly suspected that Panacea would be heavily disapproving and, odd though it seemed, her good opinion was important to him. Jamie's was too, he belatedly realised.

That led to another startling insight. He not only liked Jamie, but he held her in rather high regard. More specifically, he trusted her more than he trusted most people. He wasn't quite sure if this was the result of their talks or the fact that she'd shown him a rewarding new way to use his powers, and was still happy to remain in obscurity while he accepted any accolades for the results of his efforts.

“I'm guessing that's a 'no'.” Jamie nodded briskly. “That's okay. I'll put some aside for you to eat later, in private.” She began to wheel herself away from the table.

“No,” David said. “Wait.” Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached up and pushed his hood back, then lifted his helmet off of his head. As they stared at him, he placed the helmet on the table with a gentle clack. “Now I can eat with you.”

“Isn't that … I mean, are you supposed to … I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to see you unmasked,” Jamie said doubtfully. “Won't I get in trouble for this?”

“Pfft, unmasking is overrated,” Panacea said with an airy wave of her hand. “I've never even had a secret identity. Miss Nightingale, are you going to tell anyone what Eidolon looks like?”

David had to hand it to Panacea. To his certain knowledge, she had never seen his face before today, not from worry that she'd out him but more from the fact that there'd been no particular reason to do so. Among capes, Panacea was seen as particularly trustworthy, given that she'd held the lives of more than a few of them in her hands. And despite the fact that he'd blindsided them both with it, she was treating the revelation with enough casual unconcern that Jamie's worries were being disarmed before his eyes.

“Well, no, of course not,” Jamie said hastily. She turned to Eidolon. “I would never do anything like that.”

“I believe you,” he said firmly. “If I didn't, I wouldn't have unmasked. We all have people we trust enough to unmask to. I trust you. Am I wrong to?” He tried to project warmth and reassurance into his voice.

“Well, no,” she said. “Like I said, I'll keep your secrets.” She lifted her chin. “I haven't been in uniform for years, but I still remember the oath.”

“Cool,” Panacea said cheerfully. “Welcome to the club.” Reaching across, she clasped Jamie's hand briefly, then she picked up her knife and fork. “I'm starving. Let's eat.”

<><>

Jamie

If anyone had told Jamie she would be hosting two superheroes for dinner, she simply wouldn't have believed them. Had they then told her that her guests' jokes and silly stories would leave her laughing helplessly, she would have worried for their sanity. But somehow, that was what was happening.

Eidolon told stories about villains he and the rest of the Triumvirate had faced. The villains had been outmatched one and all, sometimes hilariously. For such a serious man, he had an understated way of telling a story that brought out the funny side of things.

Panacea, on the other hand, had apparently grown up with a super-powered sibling and two cousins, all of whom had expressed teenage rebellion in different ways. Between that and her anecdotes about facing the villains of Brockton Bay, Jamie laughed till her sides ached. She'd occasionally wondered if some of the stories about the notorious Uber and L33t were exaggerated, but from the ones Panacea told, she suspected not.

“So after that, Vicky couldn't even stand the idea of orange juice for days,” Panacea finished with relish. She chased the last piece of pasta around her plate with her fork. “Miss Nightingale, you're a great cook.”

Jamie rolled her eyes as she giggled at the image Panacea had presented. “Like I said, call me Jamie. Everyone else does.”

“Only if you call me Amy instead of Panacea.” The teenage superhero gave her a stern look. “I get called Panacea enough on the job. Which reminds me.”

“Reminds you of what?” David—Jamie still couldn't believe she was on first-name terms with two superheroes!—looked at Panacea quizzically.

Panacea—Amy—rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Do I have to be the one to bring up the elephant in the room?” She gave David a pointed look. “You did bring me here to fix Jamie's leg, right?”

<><>

Eidolon

“What?” David blinked, taken aback. “No, I … Jamie has helped me a lot, and given me a lot of good insights. I wanted to tell her about the progress we've been making on the food plants, and the other projects you've been helping me with. Basically, I wanted you to meet each other.” He gestured helplessly. “I've come to the conclusion that as powerful as we are, we're incomplete without the perspective offered by people who don't have powers.”

“Are you saying I need that kind of perspective, too?” Panacea tilted her head. “Huh. I guess I might. Sometimes my powers do kinda take up most of my attention.” She laughed ruefully. “Like right now, assuming that you invited me here to heal Jamie instead of just meeting her.” She turned to their host. “So I know why Eidolon didn't ask me to help you out. I'm curious as to why you didn't.”

Jamie blinked. “You can fix my leg? I thought you just … well, cured cancer and healed bullet wounds and stuff. I didn't know you could repair traumatic amputations. And anyway, you guys are off the clock right now … right?”

“Heh.” To David's ear, Panacea's snort of laughter didn't hold much in the way of humour. “Remind me to tell you sometime about walking to the hospital in the middle of the night because I can't sleep. 'Off the clock' is a slippery concept when you don't have a real secret identity. But yeah, I can fix your leg. We're just going to need a source of biomass, otherwise I'll have to scavenge …” She paused, then a grin spread across her face. “Hah!”

“'Hah' what?” asked David curiously. “Why are you smiling like that?” He got the impression that he was failing to make a connection that she'd already arrived at, and that when he clicked, he was going to be very irritated with himself.

Panacea stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “This was all meant to happen,” she said, her words tumbling over themselves. “We were meant to show up today, just as Jamie had a lasagne on to bake. Because I'm meant to fix her leg. Because the biomass to do so showed up five minutes before we did, in the form of …” Reaching the fridge, she opened the door with a flourish. “ … a mis-delivered leg of ham!”

Jamie frowned. “But that's just a coincidence … right?”

Reaching into the fridge, Panacea hefted the leg of ham and lifted it out. Pushing the door closed with her butt, she carried the ham over to the table. “Trust me, if you'd seen what's been going on in Brockton Bay over the last couple of weeks, you would not be saying that.” Placing it in front of Jamie, she cracked her knuckles. “Okay, let's get you back on your feet.”

David facepalmed.

<><>

Panacea

“Okay, that should do it.” Amy ensured that the last neural links had set themselves up correctly, then stood up from beside Jamie's wheelchair. The stocking covering the stump had been removed for this operation. Confirming Amy's suspicion about the whole situation, the ham had contained exactly the right amount of mass to replace Jamie's missing lower leg. She'd used Jamie's other leg as a template, a trick she was adept at.

But now was the moment of truth. Some people took to using the new limb almost immediately, while others had to re-learn everything from scratch. “Let's see you wiggle your toes.”

“Okay.” Jamie looked doubtful. “It feels strange.”

“It is strange.” Amy glanced at Eidolon, who had stayed back out of the way the whole time. She'd been nervous about doing this in front of a Triumvirate hero, to someone Eidolon thought a lot of, but he hadn't offered any criticisms. “This foot is brand new. You haven't had one for years.”

“Ah, right.” Lips pursed in concentration, Jamie began to wriggle her toes, one by one. Then she worked her newly-constructed ankle back and forth. “Wow. This is … amazing.”

Amy grinned, enjoying the look of wonder on Jamie's face. “It's always pretty cool from my side, too. Think you want to try walking on it? Looks like you've got toe-wiggling down pat.”

“I don't know,” Jamie said doubtfully. She looked over at Eidolon. “Do you think I should?”

“Absolutely.” Eidolon stepped forward. “You can lean on me. I won't let you fall.”

Discreetly, Amy stepped back to let Eidolon take her place. She watched as the superhero—just a man, at this moment—helped the once-crippled woman stand up. The first few steps were barely steps at all, but the look on Jamie's face was one of pure wonder. With Eidolon guiding her, she took longer and longer steps, resting her weight on her new foot with more and more confidence. They didn't notice as Amy let herself out of the apartment. She could get a cab to the Protectorate building; from there, she was sure she could scrounge a lift back to Brockton Bay.

Her work in New York, as the saying went, was done.

<><>

Eidolon

Smiling broadly, David watched Jamie walk the length of the apartment and back again. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, but she was gaining confidence all the time. Still, her balance wasn't perfect; she was almost back to him when she tripped and fell. He caught her, of course.

“Wow,” she murmured, making no attempt to right herself. Her arms snaked around his neck.

“Wow, what?” Not for the first time, he noted that she was quite pretty. However, this was the first time he'd had her in his arms when he made that observation. Unaccountably, his heart rate went up.

“You have such nice eyes,” she said softly. “And I've just realised I'm about to do something I haven't done for a long time.” He raised his eyebrows quizzically … then she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him.

David had been kissed before, but due to the chronic nature of his condition before he got his powers, they had been no more than pity-kisses from girls who felt fleetingly sorry for him. Afterward, of course, he'd been submerged in the wonder of being the most powerful cape in the world. He'd never experienced this level of passion in a kiss, from a mature healthy woman to a mature healthy man, conveying a certain amount of intent. Despite the fact that he was the one with two original-issue legs, he felt himself go weak at the knees.

The last thing he actually wanted to do was stop. Many thoughts about Jamie Nightingale, ones which he had denied because he felt them unworthy of a hero about a lady, and which he would've felt extremely uncomfortable attempting to express anyway, came crowding to the forefront of his brain. But his sense of propriety overrode everything else, and he reluctantly pushed her away.

“What?” she asked, gazing up at him with languorous eyes made huge by her dilated pupils. “What's the matter?”

“Panacea,” he said thickly, looking around for the teen. “I have to make sure she gets home.” And he knew damn well that making out with their host in front of a teenage girl was definitely Not the Done Thing.

Jamie's chuckle was throaty, and sent tingles up and down his spine. “She left fifteen minutes ago, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I thought you knew. Now, do you have anything else important to worry about tonight?”

Try as he might—though he didn't try too hard—David couldn't think of a single thing. Mutely, he shook his head.

Jamie's full lips curved in a delicious smile, and she deliberately undid the top button of her dress. “Then come here, you idiot,” she told him, and pulled him in for another kiss.

This time, he didn't push her away.

<><>

Panacea

Amy accepted the change from the cab driver and got out on to the sidewalk. Unlike in Brockton Bay, New York's Protectorate base was on dry land, which made getting to it much easier. Heading up the steps to the front doors, she watched as they slid aside, then entered the main lobby.

Taking a cab in New York was different from taking one in Brockton Bay. The cabbie had spent the trip gossiping about the goings-on in the city, but he hadn't once recognised her. Of course, she mused, this was probably due to her not being in costume. Even back home, it took some people a few moments to place her if they met her in a social situation. But here, she'd spent a good ten minutes talking to the guy and he hadn't once registered who she really was. It had been an experience both humbling and enlightening.

The lady behind the reception desk ceased her quiet conversation with the attending PRT guard as Amy approached. “Can I help you?” she asked. She looked professional, efficient and alert, even at this late hour.

“Uh, yeah,” said Amy. “I'm Panacea, from Brockton Bay. Can I get a lift home, or a bed for the night then a lift in the morning, or something?” Belatedly, she began to wonder if this was a bad idea. She could have called up Aunt Sarah or someone, but that would mean a long night-flight for both of them.

“Oh,” said the woman, straightening her spine a few more inches. “I'm sorry, Panacea. I didn't recognise you. Do you have ID on you?”

“Sure.” Amy knew exactly what the woman wanted. She pulled her purse out of her pocket and retrieved the 'PRT Affiliate' card, with the picture of her in costume. Putting it on the desk, she slid it across to the receptionist.

The woman picked it up and looked at her over it. Helpfully, Amy covered her mouth and nose with her purse, to simulate her scarf. “Ah, of course,” the woman said. “Thank you, Panacea. We don't have any transports heading north right now, but we've got guest accommodation that you're welcome to use. Do you want us to call New Wave and let them know you're here?”

“Nah, that's okay, I can do that.” Amy tapped her pocket with the phone in it. “But a shower and a bed for the night would be wonderful, thanks.” While the day hadn't been exactly strenuous, and she'd only had to deal with one healing, it was all starting to pile up on her.

“Certainly.” The lady flashed her a bright, professional smile. “I'll just contact someone to take you up and get you settled.” She pressed her earpiece twice, and had a murmured conversation with the person on the other end.

It didn't take long before one of the four lifts opened and a teenage girl stepped out. “Panacea?” she called. She wore a skin-tight deep purple costume that immediately brought Tattletale to mind, although the white metal armour panels dispelled the resemblance just as quickly. Also, her eyes were obscured by a visor instead of the Undersider girl's domino mask, and finally, she had long flowing black hair instead of Tattletale's dirty blonde mess. “I'm Flechette. Come on up.”

“Cool,” Amy said. Approaching Flechette, she held out her hand in greeting. “Call me Amy.” She couldn't help but feel vaguely disloyal to Vicky as Flechette's curves caught her eye, but she pushed the thought away. Vicky's not interested, so I can look.

“Nice to meet you, uh, Amy.” Flechette was obviously unused to meeting capes who went around unmasked. Still, she shook Amy's hand, then they stepped back into the lift. Flechette hit the button to go up, and the doors closed. As Amy raised her eyes to Flechette's after what she'd thought to be a discreet appraisal of the other girl's body—that costume really didn't leave much to the imagination—she found Flechette looking back at her with a knowing smile on her lips.

Oh, shit. Busted.

“So, you like what you see?” For some reason, Flechette's smile widened as Amy flushed vividly.

“I, uh, what, um …” Amy floundered, wanting to say yes, but not wanting to just come out and say it.

“The building,” Flechette said by way of explanation as the lift started upward. “It's very impressive, isn't it?” But the glance she shot Amy made it quite plain that she was throwing the biokinetic a lifeline. Neither one of them believed Flechette was actually talking about the building.

“Uh, very impressive, yes.” Amy didn't mean the building either. Daringly, she added, “I'd, uh, like to see a lot more of it.”

“On behalf of the Protectorate, thank you.” Flechette's smile turned wicked, and she very deliberately checked Amy out. “So … staying the night, huh?” A very pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips.

“Uh, yeah.” Amy flushed again, hard. She'd never had another girl look at her in the way Flechette was. Did that mean she was … interested? Flechette wasn't Vicky, but Vicky wasn't interested, and Amy got so lonely sometimes …

As the lift came to a stop, Flechette gave Amy another quick up-and-down. When her gaze met Amy's, eye contact was total. “Good.”

And all Amy could think was, Eidolon's not the only one Taylor was setting up.

Damn, that girl is good.

Part 20 (End)