One More Trigger Pt 31 (Patreon)

Part Thirty-One: Head Games

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

Something was missing.

Riley wasn’t sure what it was, but as she surfaced from an extremely restful sleep, she knew something wasn’t there that should have been. It didn’t bother her that the person holding her wasn’t quite familiar, or that the bed she was sleeping in (as comfortable as it was) didn’t feel right. Both those situations were not uncommon to her, as a member of the Nine.

The Nine.

As the last of the sleep-fog cleared from her brain, several facts slid into place with resounding (if silent) clangs. First and foremost was that the Nine were done. Mister Jack had finally collected the wages of sin he’d been accumulating for nearly thirty years, via the introduction of high-velocity buckshot into the eye-socket and the brain beyond. Burnscar was also dead, and Riley herself was a prisoner.

A prisoner who had been turned over to the Samaritans, the team that had beaten the Nine, not once but twice.

Why the PRT had even accepted this as a possibility, she had no idea. Maybe the Samaritans had some kind of pull over the Director? They’d disclaimed any such, but lying to villains about things like family connections was kind of par for the course.

But this wasn’t what was wrong. Though … who was holding her?

Lisa. Lisa was the one who was holding her. She’d been having a nightmare, and Lisa had just told her to scoot over and comforted her until she fell asleep again. Which was something Riley was sure no hero would’ve ever dared—or cared—to do before that point. Not least because her implants would’ve made short work of anyone who came within arm’s reach of her … at least, before Panacea got in on the act.

But even without those, she would’ve bet large amounts of money (if she ever got any) that nobody aside from the Nine themselves would have bothered comforting her in her nightmares. So, of course Lisa had done that exact thing. To prove her wrong, or because she needed someone close by, Riley wasn’t sure which. All she knew was that her sleep had been nightmare-free, and now she was feeling much better.

“Hey,” murmured Lisa from behind her. “Got it all figured out yet?”

“All except for why you took me away from the PRT,” admitted Riley. Then she paused. “Wait, how did you know I was thinking stuff through?” Lisa had shown herself to be extremely intuitive, but surely that had its limits?

There was a puff of breath on the back of Riley’s neck as Lisa chuckled. “I’m psychic.”

“I don’t believe that.” The response was automatic. Riley had dissected the brain of more than one cape and while Thinker capabilities could get up there in the ‘bull-hockey’ stakes, she’d never encountered one that truly met the criteria for being defined as ‘psychic’.

“Arguments from incredulity carry no scientific weight.” Lisa seemed to be holding back amusement.

“I still don’t believe it.” Riley wasn’t sure why she was being so stubborn about this, but it was something she could make a stand on that didn’t affect her in the long term. “Thinker capabilities are always constrained in some way. Pure psychic abilities wouldn’t be. Your power is lying to you.”

Lisa paused for a moment. When she spoke, her tone was more thoughtful. “You think our powers can lie to us?”

Riley had had enough of carrying on a conversation with her back to someone. She wriggled and squirmed around until she was facing Lisa, in the meantime waking up some aches and pains that she knew darn well were going to be shouting for her attention when she got up for real. “You think they can’t?” she countered. “I’ve made a study of powers, and Mister Jack says—said—that capes are inherently predictable. He was always able to figure out what they’d do in the long run, and sometimes in the short run too. If our powers can influence what we do to the point where he could figure them out, why can’t they lie to us?”

And there was the thing that was missing. When she said his name out loud, Riley instinctively asked herself what does he want me to do? and for the first time since she’d become Bonesaw, there wasn’t anything there. It was a weird sensation, not unlike probing the gap of a newly-missing tooth with her tongue.

“I honestly don’t know,” Lisa said. “That’s something I’m going to have to think about. And by the way, in case you’re wondering; my power isn’t lying to me about being psychic. I was lying to you about it. Like I said yesterday, I can see the shape of your thoughts, but not the thoughts themselves.”

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Riley looked up to see someone’s legs come into view. She hadn’t heard the basement door open, which meant that they’d been extra careful to be quiet, or they’d just oiled up the hinges. Wafting down into the basement came the smell of delicious eggs and bacon.

“Really? That old saw again, Athena?” It was Ladybug, and she had an amused look on her face. “Seriously, you’ve been telling every hero and villain in the whole city that you were psychic, just to mess with their heads.” There was a glass of orange juice in her hand, that she sipped from.

“And I still don’t know why you don’t,” Lisa retorted, sitting up on the bed. “You could pull it off a lot better than me, that’s for sure.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not psychic.” Ladybug lowered herself into the armchair, careful not to disturb Lisa’s phone where it still sat on the arm.

“Really?” Lisa’s tone was challenging. “How many people are on the street within one block of this house?”

“Sixteen,” Ladybug replied at once. “Eleven men and five women. Should I include the three PRT agents in the van down the street where they think we haven’t spotted them yet? Because that’ll make it thirteen men and six women.”

“And thus, my point is proven,” Lisa observed, throwing a smirk to Riley. “Not psychic, my ass.”

“So what is your range with those bugs?” asked Riley, curious despite herself. “Mister Jack wasn’t sure, but he figured it was between four and five blocks.”

Ladybug smiled at the same time that Lisa chuckled out loud. The bug controller took another sip from her glass of juice, her eyes hooded. “On the one hand, that’s fairly accurate. On the other … I’ve basically got the whole city covered. Every bug from Downtown to the Boat Graveyard, from the Boardwalk to Captain’s Hill, is under my personal and direct control. I was able to track you from halfway across the city to Winslow, every step of the way.”

Riley knew what bragging and exaggeration sounded like, and this wasn’t bragging and exaggeration. Ladybug was stating a simple fact, and also throwing out a simple warning; if you run, you can’t hide. I will find you.

“Every bug, right across the city?” She wanted to object to the claim, but everything they’d said so far had been backed up by the facts. “How bad are your Thinker headaches, and why do you say it’s accurate then talk about how you can cover the whole city?”

Lisa wrinkled her nose at that. “She doesn’t get Thinker headaches, no matter how many bugs she takes on board. It’s very unfair.”

“What, none at all?” Riley stared at Ladybug. “How do you even manage that?”

“I have no idea.” Ladybug shrugged. “I just don’t, is all. Maybe it’s got something to do with how I've had to actually learn to decipher their senses instead of getting it all at once. But I could make every bug in the city take off right now and skywrite rude words if I wanted. Director Piggot would probably have an aneurysm, so I won’t. But I could.”

“Yeah, how do you do that?” Riley sat up and leaned forward eagerly. “Cover the whole city, I mean. Was it a second trigger?”

“Nope. It was Panacea.” Ladybug drank some more of her juice. “She and I also have an amazing power synergy. Turns out she can make bugs that extend my range. I’ve got them spotted all over the city, every few blocks.”

Riley frowned. “How long did it take for you to set that up? Did you have it in place before we even arrived in the city? I can’t see that Director of yours being okay with that.” She would’ve added more descriptive phrases regarding Piggot, but that wasn’t what a good girl (or a smart prisoner) did.

“Yeah, she’s all of that and more.” Lisa smirked again. “But as for the setup, that was something else altogether. When we found out you were in town, we started planning hard, and one part of the plan involved the relay bugs. Covering the city took me and Panacea one entire night and put her out of action the next day, but it was so worth it in the long run.”

The implications were coming together for Riley, and they were painting a picture she didn’t like. “And the bugs you used to take down Mister Jack and me and Mannequin ... Panacea made them all specifically to take us down?”

“Well, yeah.” Ladybug’s tone said duh, very clearly. “And the second time around, you were expecting bugs, and you prepped for bugs ... so we used the bugs as decoys.”

“Because, you know, you went to all that trouble making the bug bombs, and we didn’t want you feeling like it was all for nothing.” Lisa’s level of smugness increased considerably. “In the meantime, Ladybug was tracking you with bugs you couldn’t see, that were basically immune to the pyrethrin. Because Panacea is awesome.”

Riley followed that thought through to its inevitable conclusion. As distasteful as it was to admit defeat, in this case she couldn’t really dispute the fact that Mister Jack had been played. That the two separate defeats of the Nine at the hands of the Samaritans had little to do with luck and everything to do with preparation and training.

“Well, poop,” she said eventually. “And I thought I was being so smart, too. Did you know about the prions ahead of time?”

“Nope.” Ladybug finished off her juice. “That was kind of a horrible surprise. But we’ve trained for scenarios where we lose our powers. Just like we’ve trained for people suddenly being Mastered, and for someone just falling over in their tracks. The why doesn’t matter; if one of the Dad Brigade, or even one of us, thinks of a scenario we haven’t trained for, it gets figured out and incorporated into the regime.”

Lisa snickered. “Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the Wards when Vista goes back and tells them what she’s been learning?” She bumped Riley with her shoulder. “I mean, munchkin here made it a mile on her first try; do Clockblocker or Kid Win even look like they could run that far?”

“No, no, no,” Ladybug said. “Think of the look on the face of the first villain she confronts when she gets back to the Wards. They’re not gonna know what hit ’em.”

Much as it went against the grain to agree with superheroes on anything, Riley had to admit that the tall brunette had a distinct point. Vista (for all that she liked flying unicorns on her pyjamas) was extremely on task when it came to getting the job done. She’d watched the Ward sparring with the other members of the Samaritans, and come away with the impression that anyone who went up against her in an actual fight would still be wondering which way was up five minutes after they’d had their butts handed to them. And if they tried to use an actual weapon against her, it would go even worse for them.

“Well, true,” agreed Lisa. “But I’m guessing you came down here to see if we were awake, and to call us up for breakfast?”

“Got it in one. Think fast.” Ladybug scooped up Lisa’s phone and tossed it to her as she got up off the chair.

“Thank you.” Lisa snagged it out of the air, then stood up off the bed and ruffled Riley’s already-tousled ringlets. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s go hit the bathroom, then have breakfast. Delta makes the best omelettes.”

Riley wanted to make a snarky comment about how it seemed the man called ‘Delta’ could murder unhatched birds just as easily as he could murder helpless prisoners like Mister Jack, but it didn’t seem right somehow. It was hard to push back against the camaraderie and inclusiveness that the Samaritans were bringing to bear on her. In the Nine, it had been very much a case of ‘pull your own weight or you’re not one of us”. Here it was, “Hey, you do you.” The utter lack of overbearing pressure to perform to expectations was … weird. Unsettling, even.

As she headed upstairs with Lisa, leg muscles creaking from the aftermath of the day before, she was still trying to figure out whether the comfortable bed and the good night’s sleep actually made up for the weirdness.

<><>

“Good morning, Riley, Athena.” The man named ‘Delta’ gave her a non-committal smile as he put a plate of bacon and omelette before her. He didn’t seem angry about the clash of words they’d had the night before; it was like it had never happened. In the meantime, the food smelled amazing.

“Morning, Delta.” Lisa gave him a beaming smile. “Oh, just by the way, I told Riley my real name last night. Seemed easier that way.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Oh, and Riley? Ladybug and I had a little discussion over our argument last night. You’re a sharp kid, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d noticed.”

And there was the other shoe. Riley began to wonder just how big and heavy and spiky it was going to be when it landed on her. “And?” she responded, as diffidently as she knew how. Maybe if she didn’t snap back, they’d let her have some of the omelette before they sent her back to the PRT.

“And,” he said, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, “my darling daughter has impressed upon me the need to not only give you a stable home life, but to make it clear to you that this is an ongoing situation. I also want to apologise not for my words but for my tone. This is still a very new situation for the both of us, and given your social situation for the last six years, I can understand how all of this might make you feel threatened.”

What’s going on here? She searched his face for any kind of duplicity or hidden malice. People didn’t apologise to her, especially ones who were in a position of power over her. But he looked sufficiently awkward for it not to be a trick, and Ladybug was watching her to see how she reacted. Lisa, an expectant expression on her face, looked from her to Delta and back again.

“… what do you want me to say?” she asked in the end. None of her experience in the Nine had prepared her for this sort of thing. If the lack of outside pressure was weird, getting an apology from one of the guys in charge was downright surreal.

Delta went to speak, but Lisa put up her hand and he closed his mouth again. This fascinated Riley; she knew that Delta could give Lisa orders, and yet here she was basically telling him to shut up. The group dynamics here were bizarre as heck. She looked over to Lisa, still a little surprised that Delta hadn’t exerted his authority over her.

“That’s not how we do things around here.” As always, Lisa’s words addressed Riley’s unspoken thoughts as well as her spoken question. Reaching across, she captured Riley’s hand in hers. “You say what you want to say. You say what you need to say. Last night, you and Delta traded some pretty harsh words. That’s your right, and his too. Now, Delta’s addressed that, and the floor’s open for you to say something, or make it clear you don’t want to talk about it. Or, you know, you can ask me to pass the salt. But whatever you say, we’re not gonna punish you for simply speaking your mind. We might not agree with it, and arguments might still happen, but nobody here’s gonna ignore what you’ve got to say or jump down your throat just because of who you once were. That’s not what we do. Trust me on this.”

Belatedly, Riley recalled that Lisa had said she was an ex-villain fleeing from a bad situation, who had helped bring down her old boss. She’d come to the Samaritans as a refugee instead of a prisoner, but they still could’ve treated her like the villain she once was. Instead, even Riley could see that she was accepted by them and treated as one of their number. If anyone could be trusted to provide an insight into this situation, it was her.

“Okay …” Riley looked at Delta. “I’m not saying I was wrong in what I said last night, but I was deliberately trying to get under your skin, and I shouldn’t have done that.” She took a deep breath. “Was Mister Jack really trying to cut Ladybug’s throat?”

Again, the conditioned reflex cut in, and she asked herself what would Mister Jack want me to do? And once more, there was no answer, no knowledge of what she was supposed to be doing. She caught sight of Lisa raising one eyebrow slightly, and wondered what that was about.

“He’d dropped his knife when I shot him in the chest,” Delta said without emotion. “There was barely any blood. Ladybug was close by, and he’d just finished making threats against her life. He was conscious and aware that I had him at gunpoint, and he was still reaching for the knife. He was not making any move to surrender. I sincerely believe he would’ve tried to kill everyone if he’d gotten his hand on that knife.”

Well, when he puts it that way …

Riley liked to think she’d known Mister Jack better than most. Surrender really wasn’t a thing she could ever see him doing. He’d long held the attitude that nobody was faster, smarter or more ruthless than him, especially when it came to capes. Normals, he just killed.

Except …

… she wanted to be mad at the Samaritans for killing him, but a tiny voice deep down, one that was getting louder all the time, kept telling her that they had played by his rules, and beaten him fair and square. He really wouldn’t have given up. Allowed half a chance, he would’ve kept trying to fight back until he won or was killed. And Delta had chosen to kill him.

A momentary flash of insight made her frown. She had participated in many of Mister Jack’s little ‘games’ over the last few years. Up until now, she’d seen them as fun and interesting, giving the hero capes a chance to fight back and maybe even win against the Nine. They never did, of course. Mister Jack had carelessly explained how this was because they just weren’t up to scratch. The Nine, he’d pointed out, was clearly the superior team.

Only, it hadn’t been. Looking back, she could now see the horrible inequity in the ‘contests’ Mister Jack had set up, where the odds were severely stacked against the hometown capes. Worse, whenever they got lucky enough to eliminate a member of the Nine, Jack unilaterally decided they were cheating and moved against them in force. Why didn’t I ever see this before?

“You okay there, Riley?” asked Ladybug.

“I’m fine,” she lied. This was something she needed to work out within her own mind. Even now, despite being almost certain that Lisa was on her side in all this (even if she had no idea of the motives of the others) she didn’t want to expose the vulnerability of her self-doubt to her captors. “Could you pass the salt, please?”

Because a good girl was polite and said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.

The look Lisa gave Riley made her wonder if the other girl could actually read her thoughts after all. But then Ladybug passed her the salt, and the moment was gone.

It turned out Lisa was right about something else. Delta really could make an outstanding omelette.

Or maybe it was just average (her treacherous thoughts suggested) and Mister Jack had never been able to cook.

Either way, in the midst of her enemies or not, she was definitely going to enjoy it.

<><>

PRT ENE

Director Piggot’s Office

Friday, April 29, 2011

Flechette

“Enter.”

Lily opened the door and stepped inside. At the far side of the office, silhouetted against what was almost certainly a high-end polycarbonate matrix window, was the bulky form of the woman she’d come to see. Taking a deep breath to contain her anger, she marched up to the desk, folded papers in her right hand. Don’t yell at her … don’t yell at her … don’t yell at her …

Director Piggot gazed up at her imperturbably. She didn’t invite Lily to take a seat; not that Lily would’ve been inclined to, right then.

After waiting for a few seconds for the Director to say something, Lily spoke instead. “Director Piggot … has my performance with the Wards been problematic? Have I broken the law, or violated regulations in some way that I have not yet been informed of?”

“No.” The neutrality of Piggot’s tone would’ve suited someone pointing out that it was not, in fact, raining outside. “Your performance has been within expectations.”

Still, she didn’t ask Lily why she was there, which meant she knew, and she was forcing Lily to say it.

“If that’s the case, Director, why does it feel like I am being punished for something I haven’t done?” Lily placed the folded sheets of paper on the desk, careful not to slap them down or energise them. As entertaining as it would be to watch Piggot attempt to deal with two halves of a desk, such an action would be extremely inadvisable at any time.

Piggot’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “Punished? I authorised no punishment for you. What makes you think you’re being punished?”

She didn’t reach for the papers, or ask for them to be moved closer. Because, Lily knew, she was assuredly aware of their contents.

Lily knew she was being played. Piggot was an absolute master of this game. She’d been playing it since long before any of the Wards had had their powers, after all. Step by step, each move pre-planned like a chessmaster. Piggot had the power. She owned the board.

Still, if Lily said or did nothing, Piggot won by default. She had to at least try.

“Why am I being transferred to the Miami Wards then, if not as a punishment?” She tried for an even tone, not shrill or whiny. Matter-of-fact. An adult in training, so to speak. She’d turned eighteen not long before, but they were retaining her in the Wards for awhile longer to obscure any connection with her birthdate. It was not an uncommon practice.

Now Piggot’s brows dropped slightly, outlining the merest suggestion of a frown. The woman was an artist with them. “Punishment? I wasn’t aware that Miami was considered such a hardship posting that it could be seen as a punishment. This is merely a routine reassignment. Not your first, as I understand matters.”

Lily breathed deeply through her nostrils, seeking the zen calm she felt just before she attempted a difficult shot with her arbalest. It was absolutely typical of the PRT to capitalise on her orphan status to move her hither and yon across the map, filling in where she was needed. Of course, up until now she hadn’t been worried about it. Never staying long enough in any one place to form attachments, she’d even been content in a way.

That had been before she met Sabah at that dance, and saved her life. Now, they were … much more than friends. There were no regulations against Wards having age-appropriate romantic attachments outside of work (if only because any attempt to actually enact such regulations would have Youth Guard descending upon that PRT branch like Behemoth with a grudge) but at the same time, the PRT would’ve been happy if such a thought never crossed the minds of their precious little angels.

“Well, no,” Lily conceded. “But … I don’t want to go. I like it here in Brockton Bay. Besides, the grapevine says Lung will be ready to be shipped to the Birdcage soon, and surely we’re going to need all hands on deck for that.”

Over the past few months, Lung had been under heavy guard in the PRT’s prison infirmary as he healed up from the damage done to him by Sparx, of the then-yet-unformed Team Samaritan. Normally, the dragon-themed parahuman was known to regenerate injuries much more quickly, but it was suspected the sustained jolt she’d put through him had seared his nervous system to ash and done serious damage to his corona pollentia. Panacea had apparently flat-out refused to even attempt to heal him. Lily didn’t blame her.

Piggot’s lips tightened visibly at the reference to the PRT’s extremely active rumour mill. “This is true,” she allowed. “However, it is most likely that Oni Lee will be attempting to whip up fervour in the Asian community, possibly as a cover for the ABB to break Lung out of the transport. I will not send children into that kind of situation, and the fact that you share an ethnic background with some of the groups involved will not endear you to them. Some will see you as a traditional enemy to be targeted, while others will lash out at you as a traitor to your people. Trust me, you going out there will not help matters.”

“Then put me on the Boardwalk stopping muggers, to free up manpower elsewhere,” Lily said promptly. “The ABB can’t foster race riots everywhere.”

“We won’t be short-handed.” Piggot’s tone was deceptively bland. I’ve made up my mind on this. “Director Partridge will be sending me Wavefront. I’ve heard good things about him.”

It was like punching fog. Every point she tried to make simply failed to connect. Still, she owed it to herself and Sabah to keep trying. Drawing a deep breath, she did her best to centre herself. “Director Piggot, I don’t want to go to Miami. I want to stay right here in Brockton Bay.”

Piggot’s gaze was even blander than before, as was her tone. “That’s interesting. I hadn’t heard of any particular reason you might feel that way.”

Which meant she most certainly had, but she was going to make Lily spell it out for her. Right in that moment, Lily discovered that it was indeed possibly to simultaneously hate someone and admire them for their technique. In all honesty, it shouldn’t have really come as a surprise. Piggot was already known to be a hardass b-word (Sabah disliked that word, so Lily was trying to moderate her own language), but what everyone had thought to be sheer natural talent was turning out to be a matter of applied skill as well.

There was nothing else for it. She was going to have to follow the script as laid out by the Director. “I’m seeing someone. This isn’t just some fling. We’re pretty serious.”

“Really?” Piggot affected interest for the first time. “Does he know you’re a Ward? Because that sort of secret can be problematic in a relationship.”

By now, Lily was utterly certain she was being toyed with. But she didn’t dare lash back, lest she give Piggot a ready-made excuse to crack down on her. The trouble was, she had no idea about the Director’s views on same-sex relationships. “It’s not a he, it’s a she. I’m dating another woman. And yes, she does know. She doesn’t have a problem with it.”

“Indeed.” Piggot clasped her hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly. “That’s very interesting. How long have you been in this relationship? Just so I can check up on when your change-of-status paperwork was filed, and find out why nobody informed me of this before I set up your transfer.”

This had to be where the Director had been leading her all this time, Lily realised, though she didn’t quite understand why. While the PRT couldn’t ban Wards from exploring extracurricular activities, it did require (in the name of personal security) that a form be completed when they entered a personal relationship outside the group (Lily suspected that the PRT would then carry out a complete background check). Given the byzantine rules and regulations encircling the Wards, they could not be compelled to fill out this form (which included the name and address of the other half of the relationship), so Lily had not. Neither could they be punished for being in such a relationship and not filling one out.

Officially, anyway.

“I … haven’t filed paperwork about it,” Lily said reluctantly. “It never seemed important enough.” Plus there was the fact that Sabah was a rogue. In the eyes of the PRT, a cape who took money to do what they did was only one bad day from going full ham villain; a trope unfortunately mirrored in TV shows and movies.

“Well, that’s a shame,” the Director said faux-brightly. “If you’d ever gotten around to doing so, I would have been aware that you have ties here in the city, and I would of course have nominated someone else for the transfer. Unfortunately, the paperwork has already gone through.”

This couldn’t be it. Piggot had to have a deeper motive than just wanting to break up her relationship by sending her down to Miami. As much as she was rumoured to dislike capes, that act alone would be supremely petty. “Is there any way we can change it? I mean, I haven’t gone yet, and I really don’t want to go.”

Piggot tilted her head, her gaze suddenly sharp. “Well, that depends. Are there any details about your relationship which may warrant the time and effort to retrieve that paperwork from the system and reverse an official decision?”

And there it was. The light clicked on over Lily’s head and she saw all. Somehow, the Director already knew she was dating Parian, and wanted the puppet cape in the Wards or Protectorate, whichever she would be best suited for. But instead of attempting to simply draft Sabah into the Wards (an act which, absent any criminal activities or time of emergency, would be highly illegal) she’d clearly had the idea to use Lily’s relationship with her as leverage.

Worse, she hadn’t even been sloppy or hasty about it. She had carefully crossed all the T’s and dotted all the I’s, biding her time until Lily and Sabah were definitely confirmed in their relationship. This wasn’t a one-off desperation grab. Piggot had been playing the long game since that night when Lily and Sabah had ended up together. At some point in the recent past, possibly when Lily had turned eighteen, she’d set about arranging the transfer, knowing full-well what the reaction would be.

Well, fuck you. Lily met Piggot’s shrewd gaze, aware that the Director probably knew she’d figured out what the play was, but leaning into the precise bodily control gifted by her power to not to show the older woman just how pissed-off she really was. Not enough to attack the Director, of course; Piggot had likely calculated the chances of that before she’d ever set this in motion. But pissed off all the same.

In a distant, emotionless corner of her brain, Lily had to admire how carefully the Director had arranged the whole situation. Each step had played out smoothly enough for any outside observer to be fooled into believing it was entirely natural. Or, if (like Lily) they were convinced it was a set-up, there was literally no way to prove it. In the absence of overt coercion, it technically wasn’t even illegal.

The worst part of all this was, if Lily asked Sabah to join the Protectorate to be with her, there was a good chance she would. She also had no doubt that if asked, Piggot would jigger the paperwork so they wouldn’t be split up (a team-within-a-team like Assault and Battery was always good to have) but the fact would remain that, however smooth and legal this was, it was still a press-gang. And she was entirely unwilling to pull that shit on Sabah.

Which meant she’d have to find another solution.

“I’m going to need a little while to think about that, ma’am,” she said carefully.

Piggot nodded once, her face showing not one sign of the triumph Lily knew she had to be feeling. “Take all the time you want,” she allowed generously. “Until next Friday, of course.” Which was the date of Lily’s transfer.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Lily turned and walked out. She was quite pleased with herself over the fact that she hadn’t slammed the door behind her.

<><>

Evening of the 29th

Northern Ferry Terminal

Ladybug

Taylor got out of the car and stretched, then pulled her helmet and goggles over her head. “It’s all clear, guys,” she assured the others. “Nobody to see us inside three blocks.”

“Never doubted you,” Emma said as she got out as well. Her mask on, she looked around, surveying the dilapidated buildings and general run-down air of the district. “Is it just me, or is this a real shithole?”

“Be nice.” Danny got out, pulling a bandanna up to cover his mouth and nose. On his head, he wore a tactical helmet with a flipped-up night-vision monocular. “People used to live and work here before, and they can do it again.” Going around to the trunk, he popped it open and took out his shotgun, which he slung over his shoulder.

“And after tonight, that day will be that little bit sooner.” Alan Barnes, from the next car over, joined him at the trunk and retrieved his own shotgun as well as Rod Clements’. “The Merchants need to learn that they’re entirely unwelcome in Brockton Bay.”

Vicky, who’d been riding in the second car along with Lisa, Amy and Riley, took to the air and scanned the general area. “So we’re really going to do this? We’re going to fuck up the Merchants once and for all?”

Vista, standing beside Rod Clements’ car, tightened the chin-strap on her visor. “I don’t see why not. They’ve been begging for it more or less since day one, and the only reason we haven’t done it so far is that there was always a more high-value target.”

“What I want to know is, why am I here?” Riley had regained some of her previous confidence, though even Taylor could tell much of it was an act. Amy had given her a makeover, reshaping her face to be less cherubic and gifting her with a short-cut mop of black hair to replace the blonde ringlets. “It’s not like I’ve got any powers to help out with. And if I did, you wouldn’t trust me to not attack you with them.”

“You’re here as an observer.” Madison strolled up alongside Riley, the multiple layers of her spider silk costume wafting gently in the light breeze. “To learn how we do what we do, so if and when we accept you into the team fully, you’ll be up to scratch.” She cheerfully bumped her elbow against Riley’s. “Just remember, this was all your idea.”

Riley gave her a dirty look. “I’m not about to forget it. Every time you turn around, you guys make me and the Nine look like total amateurs.”

“You’re not the only ones.” Vista put a companionable arm around Riley’s shoulders. “Before I became the liaison, they showed up the Wards a couple of times. I love being part of this team.”

Lisa snickered. “Oh, god, you should’ve seen the time the Undersiders tried robbing a bank where those three were making a deposit. They owned us like we were bought and paid for.”

“I know, right?” Amy gave Lisa a side-hug, and got one back in return. “I was in the bank, remember? That was a wake-up call for me.”

“All right then,” Emma declared, cutting across the side chatter. “We’ll be going in standard loose assault formation. Glory Girl, you know what you’re doing?”

“Sure thing, o captain my captain.” Vicky dashed off a vaguely military salute. “Stick in close, don’t go too high so I don’t spook ’em, and retrieval of anyone who looks like getting away from Ladybug. Also, working with Vista to deal with Squealer’s vehicles when she comes at us.”

“Perfect.” Emma smiled. “Now, Athena and Asset One—” that was the designation they’d settled on for Dinah Alcott when anyone not a full member of the team were in earshot “—have pinpointed their stash houses and production facilities, so we’ll hit them one at a time. Ladybug concurs that the first one is three blocks west of here. Let’s go.”

Vista’s phone rang. She looked around and mouthed “sorry” as she pulled it out of its pouch. Glancing at the display, she frowned then swiped the answer icon.

“Ah, hi, Flechette, what’s the matter?”

<><>

Flechette

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, Lily glanced around. Kid Win had sat down on his hoverboard and was fiddling with one of his laser pistols. As she watched, a spark popped and smoke drifted upward. She dragged her attention back to what she was saying.

“… so if I don’t ask Parian to join the Wards, she’ll send me off to Miami, and if I do, I just know Parian will do it for me but she’ll be unhappy. And I don’t want any of that.”

“Okay …” Vista sounded like she was thinking. “Have you had the chance to look through the rules and regulations that cover Wards, such as quitting?”

“First thing I did,” Lily said. “But the rules are so twisty and self-referential that I’m scared if I try anything, the Director will be able to quote something to override me.”

Another voice cut in. This was a male voice, adult. “Hello, Flechette. You can call me Alpha. I’m a friend of Vista’s. I presume there’s a contract involved, which was signed before you turned eighteen?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, yes, there was. But I’m eighteen now. I looked it up, and once I turned eighteen it became binding.”

“Yes, that’s true in most circumstances.” Alpha sounded like he was smiling. “If you could furnish Vista with a copy of your contract, I would be willing to look it over for a minor consideration. Say, an autographed photo?”

Flechette blinked. “I, uh, sure! Thank you, uh, Alpha.”

“You are entirely welcome, young lady. Once you can furnish Vista with that information, I shall see what I can do. I’m giving the phone back to Vista now.”

With her heart pounding in her chest, Lily exchanged a few more words with Vista then ended the call. She’d picked Vista to call because she was the only other girl in the Wards and had seemed to well and truly have her shit together on the few times they’d spoken, and also because she’d managed to score the liaison position with Team Samaritan. The decision seemed to have paid off in spades.

Taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself down, she got up and waved Kid Win over. “Okay, we can keep going now.”

“Cool, cool.” He began to pack away his miniature toolkit. “Everything okay?”

She nodded and smiled. “I’m beginning to think it might be.”

<><>

Sparx, a Little While Later

Screaming something entirely incoherent though probably quite obscene, Skidmark popped up in the middle of Emma’s area of effect. His hands glowed and he went to throw down a field, but she put a couple of tendrils around his wrists and applied just enough electricity to spark off every nerve from his elbows to his fingertips. His hands were left jittering like ferrets on speed, throwing off purple and blue sparks but nothing coherent enough to matter. A moment later, one of Amy’s nighty-night bugs found him. It took two stings to get past his artificially induced drug resistance, but he crumpled all the same.

More bugs swept the area of the current battle. While Lisa and Riley watched from off to the side, Danny and Alan escorted Amy in to where Skidmark lay unconscious. When they got there, Amy leaned over and reinforced the unconsciousness, then with Alan guarding, they duct-taped his hands behind his back and his ankle to a convenient parking meter. The last thing they wanted was for the foul-mouthed drug dealer to wake up at the wrong moment and skid-field his way out of there.

Emma kept moving, past Mush’s unconscious (and similarly duct-taped) body, and the equally unconscious two dozen or so Merchant mooks who’d thought it was a good idea to get in on the battle. Around the corner of the now sadly-battered main stash house, the battle was winding down.

Squealer, predictably enough, had come roaring in with a large over-gunned invisible vehicle. Some of Taylor’s bugs had ended up inside the cloaking field, and she’d been able to throw up large arrows, pointing directly at it. With that for a cue, Vicky was flying in, ripping bits off and then flying out again. It turned out that Emma wasn’t the only one who could generate electricity; if Vicky stayed inside the cloaking field, she got zapped by something that apparently stung a lot. In addition, it left her hair standing up all over her head.

Finally recognising that yes, the Merchants were screwed, Squealer was now trying to make her escape. Vista had paused from her newfound hobby of using the landscape to beat up the Merchants, and commenced using that same landscape to beat up the tank. In her capable hands, light poles thickened to a grotesque degree then slammed down on Squealer’s creation, dealing great hammer blows to it. Minor potholes suddenly gaped wide and deep, and bumps swelled into monoliths capable of blocking the way of a main battle tank, much less Squealer’s less than impressive ride.

With a final shattering crash, Vicky tore off the entire side panel, then flew in and hauled out a struggling (and almost equally foul-mouthed) Squealer. She flew her prisoner down to ground level, expertly frisked her (relieving her of several interesting tools and weapons) then held her so that Taylor could knock her out with a bug. Rod Clements promptly duct-taped the Tinker’s hands behind her back.

Despite the fact that nothing was moving on the battlefield, nobody relaxed. Danny looked to Taylor. “Clear?”

She took a moment, turning her head as though she were listening. Emma was aware that swarms were covering the area all the way around, sweeping back and forth until no area that a human could hide in was left unchecked. A buzzing drone marked the passage of yet another swarm checking the airspace overhead.

Finally, she nodded to him. “Clear.”

They gathered their prisoners together, and Missy pulled out her phone to call the PRT. As she did so, Riley left off watching as Amy checked all the unpowered prisoners for hidden injuries and turned to Emma.

“This is what you were talking about with all that training, right? No matter what they did, you had a counter.”

“That’s the general idea, yes.” Emma gave the girl about three-quarters of her attention; one-quarter went with the thousands of tendrils she still had spread about the place, keeping tabs on every last downed Merchant in the area. If even one was faking it, she’d know it before anyone else. “Our dads don’t want us getting hurt, so they try to make the training harder than the fighting. This was about as easy as actual cape combat goes.”

“Yeah, but …” Riley shook her head in frustration. “You’ve only got one Alexandria package, and she held back until you said to move in. Nobody went for a grandstanding move. And you still cleaned their clocks in less than five minutes. Without killing anyone. Who even does that?”

In lieu of an answer, Emma raised her eyebrows and gestured for Taylor and Madison to step in. “That’s easy,” said Madison.

“We can, so we do,” Taylor finished. The hum of bugs all around merely emphasized her statement.

“Right, right.” Riley gestured at the secured villains. “You said yourselves that these guys are bottom of the heap. Why did you go after them? Is anyone even going to notice?”

Lisa grinned. “Yeah. The next gangs in line. See, this is more than a simple clean-up operation that should’ve been carried out long ago.” She paused for a dramatic beat. “It’s also a message.”

Part 32