One Bad Day Pt 5 (Patreon)

Part Five: Tripling Down

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

Taylor

"No, we can't just walk up to your friends and family and ask them to donate their memories of Vicky," Lisa said patiently. "If Plan B is gonna have a chance of working, we have to set it up before we kick off Plan A. Otherwise, if Plan A fizzles, we're left hanging in the wind."

I listened to her with half an ear while I played with my powers. After I lashed out in the bathroom and killed Madison, I'd done my best to shut that power away from my mind. But now, fed and rested and no longer strung out on panic, I'd decided that if I was gonna go down, I'd go down with style. So I reached out for the power again, and it responded. And with it came a surprise. I could control more than bugs.

"But what if we don't need Plan B?" Amy insisted. "What if they just say yes? That means we won't have to do all this running in circles to get Plan B set up. Everyone agrees, we go to talk to Cranial, and Vicky gets made better." She glanced across the area we were currently hiding out to where Vicky was sitting and humming a simple tune. Vicky looked up and gave Amy a smile and a wave. "As soon as possible," she said, more to herself than to Lisa.

"If we don't need Plan B, we don't need it," I said. "But it's better to have Plan B and not need it than to not have it and need it." It was something that Mom used to say, but definitely appropriate in the circumstances.

Lisa gave me a grateful look. "Exactly. And how much time would we waste if Plan A went sideways and we had to fall back on Plan B, but it wasn't ready to roll?"

I'd used bugs when I killed Madison because they'd been ready to hand and they were incredibly easy to control. A hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, a million, there was no upper limit to how many I could direct at once. But once I started out playing with bugs, I soon became aware of other minds moving around, far more complex than the tiny sparks of the bugs. The more complicated the mind, the harder it would be for me to affect it, but as I attuned myself to my new-found capabilities, I found that I was even able to detect Lisa, Amy and Vicky as shadowy images to my power.

Amy set her jaw stubbornly. "I just don't like the idea of just … well, just planning to abduct my friends and family, like we were criminals. What if they get hurt?"

"That's what having a plan is all about," Lisa reiterated. I could see a stress wrinkle starting to form between her eyes. "We can cover all the eventualities. And if they get hurt, you can fix them." She got up from the box she'd been sitting on. "I'm not gonna lie. The longer we take, the harder the odds are against us on this one. The faster we get them where we need them, one way or the other, the easier it'll be to get to the others." She rubbed her butt. "And we've really got to find a better place to stay. This is just about passable for one night of hiding, but it's got zero modern conveniences. The more we have to sneak out for food, water, going to the bathroom, the more chance we have of being spotted."

"I got an idea," said Aisha. I blinked and tried to hide my start as my brain filled me in on her existence. Again. "Why don't we go to a motel or something and I'll steal the key for one of the rooms? The guy at the front desk will think it's been hired out, and we're golden for a day or so. Then we find another motel, rinse and repeat."

"And one of them will call the cops and give a description, and then Carol and Aunt Sarah and Uncle Neil will be all over our case," Amy said. "It's a bad idea."

"Worse than you think," Lisa retorted. "Coil's tapped into the PRT somehow. If he gets the slightest idea where we are, we're screwed harder than a dollar whore when the Navy's in town. He always guesses right, and he's got mercenaries with serious weaponry. We don't want him on our case."

"Coil?" I asked curiously. "I don't think I've heard of him. What's his thing?"

Lisa shuddered. "He's a tall, skinny drink of water in a skintight outfit, and trust me, once you see him, you'll need brain bleach. He's also the worst type of person to get money or personal power." She gave me a direct look. "You know the type."

I swallowed nervously. If I understood what she was saying correctly, he was meaner than Sophia and more vindictive than Emma. "I think I do. So what's his territory? So we can stay out of it, I mean."

"Oh, he doesn't hold much in the way of territory, actually," Lisa said dismissively. "You're not gonna believe this, but he's actually got this big-ass Bond villain base in the middle of … in the middle of …" Her voice ran down, and she shook her head. "Fuck. Is it that easy? It can't be that easy. Can it?"

"Lisa, are you all right?" I looked at her with some concern. If she was having some sort of brain meltdown, it would severely hamper any plans we were going to make in the future. I had no faith at all in my own plan-making ability. 'Run and hide' do not a long-term plan make.

Slowly, a grin spread across her face. "I'm either all right or totally insane. And I can't tell which. But I just had the best idea. How to solve two of our problems at once."

Her grin seemed a little on the fixed side, so I wasn't making any sort of bets there. "What problems? And how are we going to fix them?" I hoped I wasn't going to regret asking.

"Problem one," Lisa said, her grin never disappearing. "Getting us long-term accommodations. Problem two. Making it so I can get around the city without Coil's goons simply grabbing me. And problem three. Someplace we can put people to keep them on ice if we have to go to Plan B and some get away."

Amy frowned. "Um, please don't tell me that this sudden inspiration is not related to what you were talking about earlier. Because if it is—"

"Holy garlic-flavoured fuckballs!" Aisha burst out and I jumped; more from the sudden exclamation than from the realisation that she existed. "We're gonna steal a supervillain's fucking secret base!"

"Wait, what?" I asked. "That sounds like—"

"A totally epic idea that we should do right now!" Aisha interrupted, her voice crackling with enthusiasm. "I mean, there's all sorts of shit that's been stolen from everyone, but who else has actually fucking stolen the bad guy's base? I mean, seriously?"

"Lisa?" Amy's voice was pleading. "Tell me that Aisha's on the wrong track, and that you're not thinking of going through with this insane plan."

Lisa looked at me and then at Amy. "It's not insane," she said firmly. "It's audacious, sure. Unprecedented, almost certainly. But not insane. You don't think it can be done?"

"Um, no?" I ventured.

Amy was far more forthright. "Fuck and no!" she burst out. "Seriously, we're four people, none of us really on our best game right now, and he's a supervillain with mercenaries! How in the living hell do you think you'll pull this off?"

That was when I saw the one expression on Lisa's face that should've had me running for the hills. A slow, toothy smile. It morphed into a grin that would've made me take a step back if I'd been standing up. Even though she was standing up, she steepled her fingers in front of her like every criminal kingpin in every bad supervillain movie everywhere.

"I'm glad you asked."

Danny

"You can't be serious." Danny stared at the Director. "Taylor has powers? How does that even happen?"

"I presume you've heard of trigger events," she replied firmly. "How capes get powers. But I'm guessing you don't know details. Not many people do, at least those who don't work directly with capes."

"I've heard the phrase from time to time," Danny admitted. "Not the details, no." He shook his head. "But how is it that my daughter gets powers on the same day that she's accused of stabbing a Ward to death? Is this a coincidence, or are these two events related?"

Director Piggot leaned back in her chair with her hands clasped in front of her. "It's not impossible that there's a connection between them. However, that raises an entirely different series of questions. You see, trigger events are almost universally linked to situations of extreme distress. And if she'd gone in there intending to do harm to Shadow Stalker, she would've had a certain amount of readiness for the situation. The people who trigger aren't the ones who were mentally prepared for the situation."

Danny frowned, puzzling his way through the implications. "So ... you're saying she was subjected to extreme trauma, then she might have killed Shadow Stalker? She was attacked and she was defending herself?"

"The possibility exists." The Director took a deep breath. "And the longer I speak to you, the more I'm convinced that your daughter's got extenuating circumstances on her side. The trouble is, she's vanished. Clearing her and finding out what really happened—and possibly getting her signed up for the Wards—is going to be a lot harder if we can't talk to her."

Danny spread his hands. "Well, I don't know where she is. I've been in custody since I found out about this whole shitshow."

"I know that." Piggot heaved herself to her feet. "Which is why I'm going to be signing your release form as soon as I get out of here. You're going home, so that if Taylor contacts you, you can contact us. We bring her in, find out exactly what happened from her side, and go from there."

"Um ... I guess?" Danny wasn't certain about all of this, but anything that allowed him to get out of here was a good thing. Nor was he fully on board with dropping a dime on Taylor, but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Director Piggot's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Trust me, Mr Hebert. We'll sort this out."

Amy

"You want me to make what?" Amy stared at Lisa. "Now I know you're insane. They'll Birdcage me if I do that. Fuck, they'll give me a kill order!" She could feel her heartbeat in her chest as she tried not to hyperventilate. Could I get a heart attack from just being angry and scared? Vicky gave her a concerned look, and she forced a smile on to her face. The last thing she wanted was to have her damaged sister go battering-ram on Lisa right now, even though the blonde's plan was totally bat-shit insane. "It's all right, Vicky. We're just talking."

"All right," Vicky said cheerfully, and went back to staring into space and humming.

Amy lowered her tone, but didn't stop glaring at Lisa. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

Lisa gave her a smirk in return. "I'm thinking that you've never used your powers to their full capacity, and if there was ever a time to start, it's right now. I'm thinking that right now, our backs are to the wall and we're low on other options. I'm thinking that this would be a perfect solution to our immediate problems, and make Operation Make Vicky Whole Again a lot more possible." Amy wasn't quite sure how she managed to slot those capitals in there, but she did. "And I'm thinking that you're only protesting because secretly you really want to cut loose, but you've been conditioned to keep your power in check, and you want me to convince you otherwise."

Amy was reminded of the old saying: Don't let the Thinker talk. Her head was spinning, but Lisa's logic was worming its way into her head. The blonde was right on one count; their backs were up against the wall. Amy was uncomfortably aware that every day of delay made it less likely that they'd be able to fix Vicky properly, and they were starting from zero resources.

"Oh," said Lisa sweetly, "and I'm thinking that if I can take over Coil's finances—and I've got most of his passwords already—we'll have all the cash we'll ever need to pay Cranial. No other crimes needed. Hell, taking over his base won't really be a crime. Stealing from criminal assholes isn't really a crime, right?"

"But you want to murder him," Amy said desperately. "That's a crime." She looked at Taylor and Aisha, who were watching the discussion like it was a tennis match. Where Aisha had gotten the popcorn from, she wasn't sure. "Tell her. Murder is wrong."

Taylor frowned. "Sure it's wrong, but she did kind of point out how Coil's really dangerous, and if we leave him alive, he'll come after us with everything he's got. And how he already wants to murder Lisa, or do even worse to her." She pointed at Vicky. "What do you think he'd do with her, once he got his hands on her? She doesn't know right from wrong, and she'll do anything if she thinks it's what you want."

"And whatever you think Coil might do with Vicky, he'll do ten times worse." Lisa's tone was rock-solid sincere, far removed from her previous banter. "A totally compliant teenage girl who can bend steel in her bare hands? He'd cut off his arm to get her under his control. To get all of us under his control. I'm a villain and I consider him too evil to live."

Amy looked at Vicky, then shuddered. The images that crowded through her mind made her want to puke. Her eyes went to Taylor, then to Lisa, and her shoulders slumped. "Okay," she muttered. "You win." She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "I'm probably gonna regret the fuck out of this, but let's do it. Let's go fuck up a supervillain."

"Woo hoo!" whooped Aisha, making Vicky jump. "Hey, it's okay, Vicks. We're all happy here. You happy, girl?"

Vicky smiled. "I am happy, Most Esteemed Aisha."

Amy glared at Aisha, who cheerfully ignored her. She was going to have to do something about that nickname.

Lisa had that toothy grin back again, the one that sent shivers down Amy's back. "Excellent. Now, what's the most dangerous venom you can make a bug formulate?"

Amy shrugged. "Umm … I never really thought about it?"

Lisa sighed. "Aisha, are you up for a little research trip?"

Circus
A Bit Later

I should've held out for five times my usual fee, Circus decided. Every few minutes, she was reminded yet again of why she didn't do teams, and most especially teams with people who weren't hitting on all cylinders. Only the thought of the money kept her from saying 'fuck this shit' and walking away from the Undersiders' more dysfunctional members. She wasn't sure whether it'd been Grue or Tattletale keeping them pointed in the right direction, but whoever it was had to've had the patience of a goddamned saint.

Contrary to her concerns, it hadn't been too hard to convince them that they were working with, or maybe for, her now. All she'd had to do was march on into their base and wave Coil's name around like a flag. Apparently they hadn't known who he was, but a discreet reminder of how much they were being paid had sufficed to quell Regent's doubts. On the other hand, Bitch had needed a really blunt reminder.

Fortunately, getting them to come out with her to track down Tattletale hadn't even been that difficult, once she revealed the fact that they'd get paid a bonus to do it. As a villain, she was fully aware of how much her life choices revolved around how much money she'd get for a job; sometimes, it was depressing how little it took for people to throw over their previous friends and teammates. Which was another point in her book against being part of a team.

Despite being in civvies, Regent—who was surprisingly pretty under the mask—had wanted to bring along his sceptre. Circus had put her foot down and withstood the whining, the arguments, the counter-arguments and the sulking. It was a little weird, though. She was good at figuring out what people were feeling, but even when he was actually pissed off, Regent barely registered as being mildly irritated to her. She'd heard something about him having a flattened emotional response, but this was verging on the ridiculous.

Bitch pointed at the shuttered building ahead of them, where her dog was snuffling around a window frame. "She went in there."

"You're certain about that?" asked Circus. This seemed too easy.

Bitch glared at her. "My fucking dogs tracked her fucking scent to this fucking location. Yes, I'm fucking certain."

"So now we've found her," Regent interrupted, "can we have our bonus yet?"

"We get that bonus when Tattletale is in our hands, on the way back to the boss." Circus was pretty sure she'd made that point already. "Bitch, go around the back of the building and start growing your dogs. Leave me one. Regent, wait out here and stop her if she tries to leave. I'm going in."

Bitch gave her a hard look, but obeyed the order anyway. Circus went up to where the dog had been whining and scratching at the boarding over a window. Reaching into her hammerspace, she pulled out her mask and put it on. Then she produced a pry-bar from the same place—those things were so damn handy—and lodged it behind one of the boards. Bracing herself, she heaved ... then nearly fell over backward as the board popped off with suspicious ease, then hung by the nail on the other end.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at Regent, but the pretty-boy was doing a good job at not snickering. Putting the pry-bar away, she pulled the rest of the boards off the window with her bare hands. As soon as the window was free, the dog whined and leaped up to scramble inside. Circus vaulted over the windowsill and followed him inside. She had a knife in each hand as she stalked through the building, but she was pretty sure Tattletale was no longer in residence. The noise she'd made getting in should've been enough to make the runaway Thinker bolt out the back door, right into Bitch's arms. This hadn't happened, so she decided to look around for clues as to where Tattletale might've gone.

The trouble was, she wasn't any sort of detective. Ironically, Tattletale would've been the ideal person to find the clues she was looking for. She just had to hope that the Thinker hadn't covered her tracks with the same level of capability.

It was the dog that found what she was looking for. She was examining scuffs in the dust when she heard it whining and scrabbling at something in the corner, under some trash. Lifting a broken board out of the way, she found paydirt. Four Fugly Bob's bags, crumpled up and shoved out of sight. The dog was pawing at them, obviously trying to get at the lingering smell and taste of grease and salt.

Taking the bags with her, she went outside again. The dog followed her, whining hopefully. Unrolling the bags, she looked in them for clues but only found scraps ... until she located the receipt. Leaning against the building, she sighed. "Okay, guys," she said. "It's a wash. We're pulling back until we can get more backup on this."

"What?" asked Regent. "Why?"

She held up the receipt. "Because four full-sized meals were eaten in here, at the same time. Tattletale isn't about to eat all that at once, so she's got backup from somewhere. And until we find out what that backup consists of, I've got to assume we're outnumbered. So, we're pulling back."

"Fuck," Regent said. "Does that mean no bonus?"

Circus rolled her eyes. I am seriously not being paid enough for this.

Taylor

"I don't believe we're actually doing this," I grumbled.

"Doing what?" asked Amy. "Attacking Coil?"

"No." Nor could I believe what I was going to say next. "That's logical, to keep us all safe. The only other people who are looking for us are New Wave, and we want them to come to us." I waved at the motel room we were sitting in. Well, I was sitting in the only chair, while Vicky lay on the bed with Amy. Just to clarify: side by side, not touching each other. "No, what I can't believe is that we're actually using Aisha's plan to stay out of sight. And it's working."

Lisa popped her head out of the small bathroom. Like the rest of us, she was only wearing underwear. "You've had the option to shower and wash your clothes. We have running water here. Are you honestly complaining?"

"Well, no, I'd be an idiot to," I agreed. "And I know it's only temporary. I just hate …" Again, I waved my hand around the room. " … not being sure. Not knowing what's going to happen next. If the cops or the PRT are gonna bust down the door any second." I shook my head. "I really don't know how career criminals do it. I'd go nuts in a day."

"Speaking as an ex-career criminal, I usually made sure to have a good hideout," Lisa informed me with a smirk. "But the good news is, between having Vicky wring the absolute fuck out of them and hanging up with the fan full on them, our clothes should be dry shortly. And then we can go back to not looking like a teen comedy fanservice shot."

"Not a moment too fucking soon," I muttered. I had enough body issues to keep a therapist busy for a week, and that was before I had to take my clothes off in the same room as Glory Girl. My inadequacies had inadequacies.

"Yeah, well, it's not like we can go shopping for skinny jeans right now," Lisa reminded me. "Any sign of Aisha yet? She should be getting back sometime soon."

This was one of the odd benefits of the current situation. I'd let the others know how I was able to control and sense through bugs most easily, but that even small animals would also work at a pinch. If I concentrated, I could look through a bird's eyes and make it go in a particular direction, but it took more of my attention. I could do bugs en masse with no effort at all, but their senses were crap. In any case, for some reason, my range seemed to be fluctuating from one block to two, depending on how antsy (pun intended) I felt. Which meant there were a lot of birds and rats I had out there, looking for Aisha's return.

"Not yet," I said, trying not to feel too concerned. "I've got a bird watching the bus stop, and nobody's got off yet who looks like her." I knew that meant nothing, but still …

Lisa and I looked around at the sound of a motorcycle entering the motel parking lot, then we glanced at each other. "Didn't she say something about owning a motorbike?" I asked.

"She did," Lisa agreed. "No sense in taking chances, though." Picking the small pistol up off the writing desk, she went over to the window and peered out through the drapes.

"Well?" asked Amy. "Is it her or not?"

In answer, Lisa went to the door and unlocked it. A moment later, it burst open, with a bike-helmeted Aisha framed in the doorway. "What up, beeyatches!" she yelled. Kicking the door shut behind her, she strode into the middle of the room like a conquering hero. In her left hand she held several fast-food bags, while in her right she had a rolled-up piece of paper. "Sorry I took so long. After I went to the library—and let me tell you, some of those funny cat videos are fuckin' hilarious—I decided to go and pick up my ride. And then I wanted some munchies. Who's hungry?"

"Me!" said Vicky immediately, levitating off the bed and flying across the room to snatch two of the bags out of Aisha's hand. Heading back to the bed, she flopped on to it and handed one of the bags to Amy. "This one is yours," she said happily. Then she opened her bag and started investigating the contents.

Lisa sighed and massaged her forehead with finger and thumb, a gesture that I'd seen her use before with Aisha. "Did you at least do the research I asked you to do before watching funny cat videos and getting your motorcycle, and going to Fugly Bob's?" she asked. I could hear the strained patience from where I was.

"Oh, sure," Aisha said, tossing me a bag. I caught it out of the air, my mouth already starting to water at the smell of grease and salt emanating from Vicky's and Amy's bags. "Got it right here." She waved the paper at Lisa. "Knew I'd forget all that shit if I didn't write it down, so I took notes."

"Oh, thank you, God," breathed Lisa. I got the impression she didn't necessarily trust Aisha's research dedication. She grabbed the paper and unrolled it, then winced. Looking over her shoulder, I saw where Aisha had scrawled "SECRET PLANS DO NOT LOOK" at the top of the page. "Really?" she asked. "Really?"

"What?" Aisha retorted cheekily. "We're gonna take down a supervillain, we need a secret plan. An' we don't want just any asshole looking at them, do we?"

"There are so many things wrong with that statement, I have no idea where to begin," she said, a look of pain crossing her face. "Okay, let's see what we've got so far." Unrolling the paper further, she began to read Aisha's scribbles. Or at least, I hoped she was able to read it. Aisha's penmanship had far more enthusiasm than accuracy going for it.

I left her to it and opened my fast-food bag. Just as I grabbed my first fries, however, a problem revealed itself to me. "Someone's coming," I said, pointing at the door. "I think it's the manager."

"Because someone rode in loudly on a motorcycle and went straight to our door," Amy pointed out, proving the absolute clarity of hindsight. She scrambled off the bed, leaving her fast-food bag behind.

"Hey, not my fault if he's looking out the window!" Aisha protested. "And I gotta be noticed when I'm riding or some assclown will drive right over the fuckin' top of me!"

I concentrated on the guy coming up to the door. Bugs, I could control all day long. Rats and birds were much more of an effort. People I could sort of influence if I really tried—I'd tried it on Lisa, with her permission—but it was a huge strain, and all I could do was nudge. If they wanted to go somewhere, they went there.

All the same, I pushed my will at his, trying to urge him to change his mind. This room really wasn't that important after all. He had better things to do.

For a long moment, he hesitated, and I thought I'd pulled it off. But then he shrugged and pulled his keys off of his waist. I grimaced as I felt the first stirrings of a headache. Maybe I should've stung him with bugs or something.

We all heard the key enter the lock, and the click as it disengaged. Lisa had her pistol half-raised, and Aisha was digging around in the bag she had slung over her shoulder. As the door swung open, Vicky flashed across the room, grabbed the manager by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the room. Her fist came up, then blurred down in a clubbing blow—

"No!" shouted Amy. "Vicky, don't!"

Her order came just in time; Vicky's fist swerved in mid-strike and smashed into the floor instead. I heard the crack of concrete shattering from halfway across the room. Vicky looked up at Amy from where she was kneeling beside the prone manager. "Why not?" she asked. "He would tell people where we are."

"Yeah, but we can't just kill him," I protested. I was fully aware of the hypocrisy of me supporting the eventual death of Coil, but this guy was basically an innocent. We had to find another way to deal with him. "Can we put him out so we can talk?"

"Okay, sure." Amy stepped forward and knelt beside the wide-eyed manager. Over forty and overweight, he had a large bald patch on his head and a large wet patch on his pants. Almost casually, she touched him on the side of the face and he collapsed, his eyes rolling back in his head. "What are we gonna do with him? Soon as he wakes up, he'll be blabbing to everyone that he saw Glory Girl in her underwear. If anyone listens to his story, it won't be hard to identify me as well. And as soon as that gets out, New Wave will be on our asses."

"Okay, I know you're against fiddling with brains—" Lisa only got so far before Amy stood up abruptly.

"No!" she shouted. "Absolutely not! I am not touching his brain! Bad things happen when I touch peoples' brains!" She pointed at Vicky. "That happens!" There was a slightly hysterical note to her voice which told me she wouldn't be moved on that topic.

"You don't have to," I said, realising what we had to do. "There's ways to cause short-term memory loss with chemicals, right? You don't have to actually use your power on his brain."

Lisa blinked and stared at me. "Holy shit, you're right! If we make him the equivalent of blackout drunk, he'll forget the whole thing!" She turned back to Amy. "Do you have any problem with doing this to him?"

Caught on the spot, Amy grimaced. "I can induce his body to produce a chemical that will stop short-term memory from becoming long-term memory, sure. But I still don't like it."

"We're not exactly spoiled for choice right now," Lisa pointed out. "It's this, let him blab to everyone what he's seen, let Vicky smoosh him, or manually adjust his brain." She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "Your choice."

"Fuck it," said Amy, kneeling beside the guy again. "This is probably gonna be the least harmful thing I do all day." She put her hand on the guy's forehead. "Okay, his adrenals are now happily producing Rohypnol. I'll let it go on for … okay, that'll be enough to screw with the last five minutes of memory, once it hits his brain. Adrenals are back to normal, and he's gonna be out to it for the next twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes." Lisa and I looked at each other, then Lisa turned to Amy. "Can't we just … you know, keep him out for a bit longer? I'm kinda used to running water."

"No." Amy folded her arms. "I'm not going to violate this man's rights any more. We're going to leave him on the bed, and we're going to walk out of here in the next twenty minutes."

"Fuck," muttered Lisa. "Where are we going to go now?"

I cleared my throat. "I … might have an idea."

Danny

I just want a shower, Danny told himself. And then maybe bed for a few hours. After that ... He had no idea what was going to come 'after that'. By now he was seriously regretting the informal 'no cell phone' policy that Annette's death had brought on the family. Just to be able to call Taylor and find out if she was okay would have been a tremendous relief. Or even talk to her and find out what really happened.

But that wasn't going to be a thing until she showed up, either by contacting him or being brought in by the police. He steadfastly refused to consider any of the less pleasant options. They didn't exist so long as he didn't think about them.

"Is this the house here, sir?"

The PRT soldier doing the driving was wearing civilian gear, as were the other two in the car. They were discreetly armed, but all three had been unfailingly polite to him on the trip over. Which didn't detract from the highly irritating awareness that Piggot had put one over on him; the woman hadn't mentioned sending undercover operatives with him until they were ready to go. Apparently, one of the releases he'd signed had given them the wherewithal to do so in legalese that he hadn't quite deciphered before he signed it. Personally, he blamed Piggot's 'good cop' act and his night of crappy sleep.

Worse, he didn't have any real grounds to deny them access. All the evidence they possessed placed Taylor at the scene of Shadow Stalker's murder, quite possibly with her hand on the knife. A sufficiently vicious prosecutor could easily push the subsequent Empire-based slashing in her direction as well, and Danny's best defence in that case was "I don't think she'd do that". So all he could hope was that if Taylor did show up, they'd be sufficiently gentle in subduing her.

Of course, there was the whole 'murdered a girl with bugs' aspect, which meant that 'sufficiently gentle' probably meant tasering then sedating. Piggot had assured him that there was not a kill order out on his daughter—that required quite a bit more lead time, not to mention a whole slew of heinous crimes—so they weren't simply allowed to shoot her on the spot.

"Yeah, this is it." Danny nodded toward the driveway, where his car was still parked. "Pull in behind mine."

"No, not a great idea." The driver shook his head. "If she comes home and sees this car in the driveway, it might spook her. I'll just park around the corner." Suiting action to word, he pulled the car around the bend and came to a halt behind a beat-up old clunker. There was a motorcycle parked in front of the clunker, which made Danny frown slightly. He was fairly familiar with most of the vehicles that got parked around the neighbourhood, and these two were new to him. Of course, they definitely fitted in, and he was tired, so it was probably nothing.

They got out of the car and walked back the short distance to the house. Danny let them in the side gate, then waved a few flies out of his face. He was aware that he smelled, but surely it wasn't that bad. A bird shrieked discordantly, startling him, then swooped across the back yard and landed on the fence where it perched, watching him with bright eyes.

"Scared the shit out of me," muttered one of the PRT soldiers, making Danny feel a little better. He nodded toward the back door. "Got the key?"

"In my wallet," Danny said. He'd had his personal effects returned to him, so he dug out his wallet and retrieved the key. His eyes automatically went to the fake stone that concealed the spare key. Had it been moved slightly? He couldn't tell. In that moment, he made the decision not to mention it. No sense in letting these bozos know about the spare. Climbing the steps to the back door, he unlocked it and opened it. "You know, I'll be fine at home alone. If Taylor calls, I'll be sure to get in contact." He spoke loudly and firmly, making sure his voice echoed into the house.

"No can do, sir," the PRT soldier said firmly. "We have our orders." Which, of course, superseded anything Danny might want. They'd been polite enough to almost let him forget that, but the truth was always there if he really wanted to see it. He wasn't quite their prisoner, but nor were they strictly his guests. "Uh, hold out here a moment. Stafford, stay with Mr Hebert. Zabrinski, with me."

Danny's first impulse was irritation: really? You have to search my home before you let me walk in? In what universe is Taylor a danger to me? The second was mild embarrassment: shit, I wish I'd had the chance to clean up first. The third was: fuck, I hope Taylor doesn't do anything rash if she is home.

"Is this really necessary?" he asked out loud. "I mean, seriously?"

"Seriously, yes, sir," said the PRT guy. He reached inside his jacket and produced an automatic pistol. As he did so, Danny noticed a device in a pouch at his belt. Danny couldn't be sure, but it looked like a stun-gun to him. "Orders are to clear the house before we allow you entry. Remember, two people are dead."

"But they attacked Taylor," Danny insisted. "Even if she was home, she wouldn't see me as a threat." I can't say the same about you, he thought but did not say.

"All the same, sir, orders. Now wait here with Stafford." The PRT guy entered the house pistol held low, by his side. The one who he'd called Zabrinski followed him in. The door closed behind them, leaving Danny standing on the steps with Stafford.

If the tension hadn't been so high, it would've been boring. Standing on the back stairs of his own house, hoping against hope that Taylor hadn't come home and that he was mistaken about the placement of the rock. The bird was still on the fence, watching him. As he looked over at it, it squawked again.

Stafford ignored the bird as he reached up to press the earpiece he was wearing. "Zabrinski, say again?"

Two more birds landed beside the first, and Danny frowned. They were all looking at him. This wasn't typical bird behaviour, was it? He was sure that Piggot had said Taylor could control bugs, not birds.

Stafford was now tense. "Zabrinski, come in." A pause. "Graham, come in." He took a step away from Danny. "Zabrinski. Graham. Respond immediately or I'm calling in an emergency."

"What?" demanded Danny. "What's happening?"

"Step away from the house, sir," Stafford said, grabbing Danny by the arm.

At that moment, the back door opened; Taylor stood there.

Taylor

We'd left the hotel manager snoring on the bed, and gotten dressed again in our still-damp clothing. I didn't care about the dampness; being clean was wonderful. Aisha (of course) had suggested we steal his car. Amy only put up a token resistance to the idea, and I had zero fucks to give any more. It turned out that Lisa could drive. This didn't surprise me at all.

With Aisha trailing behind on her motorcycle, we'd followed my suggestion, which was simple. To go home. Dad should be at work by now, I figured, so we'd be able to sneak in using the spare back door key, and relax for a few hours. When he got in, I figured we'd be able to hide in my room for at least a bit. I honestly didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

The sight of Dad's car in the driveway gave me a bad moment, but there were enough bugs in the house to let me ascertain that he wasn't there. Where he was, I had no idea. I hoped he wasn't wandering the streets on foot, looking for me. Whatever; I was safe, and he was a grown man. I had to trust that he wouldn't do anything stupid.

The spare key was still in the fake rock beside the back door, and I let us in that way. Once inside, I heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. Of course, about thirty seconds later I spotted a bunch of guys coming in through the side gate. Some flies gave me the impression that the tallest one might be Dad, and I took control of a nearby bird which gave me a good look at him. I didn't know the guys with him, but they didn't look like anyone I knew. He wasn't in handcuffs, but he didn't seem to be very happy with them either.

I passed this on to Lisa, who immediately worked out the plan of action. It was so useful having someone who could figure out what the enemy was likely to do in any given scenario. I was the ranged Master, so I went with her into the basement. Amy and Vicky went upstairs, while Aisha stayed in the living room (or at least, that was the last place I saw her).

Waiting under the basement steps with Lisa, I could 'feel' the men moving through the house. One guy went upstairs, and I saw him closing with where Amy and Vicky were hiding; in the bathroom, as far as I could tell. I concentrated on him and tried to direct his attention away from them. If I could distract him for even an instant …

The scuffle that followed was too fast for me to follow, but it ended with the intruder on the floor—still alive, for which I was grateful—and Vicky and Amy standing over him. The guy in the living room had wandered into the kitchen and was apparently looking at the basement door. Just as I whispered as much to Lisa, the guy convulsed and fell over.

That was my cue. There was only one guy left, and he was outside with Dad. I took the stairs two at a time as the guy tried to drag Dad down off the back steps. Jumping over the still-twitching guy at the top of the stairs, I opened the back door.

"Get back, Mr Hebert!" shouted the guy, letting go of Dad's arm and reaching into his jacket. I didn't think he was going for a hip flask, but he didn't know what was coming for him either. As the pistol cleared the holster, my birds hit him from behind. He recoiled as they flapped and beat at his face with their wings, screeching and slashing with their claws.

I grabbed Dad and hauled him inside, then stepped aside as Vicky came blazing past me. She yanked the guy with the gun back into the house, then Amy put him out. Dad looked down at the two unconscious agents, then at me.

"Taylor?" his voice was plaintive. "What's going on?"

"Hi, Dad," I said breathlessly. "I can, uh, I can explain?"

 Part 6