The Slippery Slope Pt 22 (Patreon)

Part Twenty-Two: Everything Goes Sideways

[A/N 1: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: Warning: Empire character dialogue may contain racist terms and views. These views are not shared by the author.]

[A/N 3: As it's been three years since I posted to this story, here's the basic layout of the plot to date:

1: Taylor, backed into a corner by the bullies, has accepted membership in the Empire. Her boyfriend, Peter Ferguson, is Max Anders' nephew. He's been teaching her how to fight.

2: Shadow Stalker was caught red-handed with the locker stunt, and handed over to the cops by the Empire kids. This has caused Director Piggot no end of aggravation.

3: When Taylor and her father were attacked by Lung and the ABB, she triggered with the ability to detect and control machines at a distance. Activating her powers suppresses all emotion. Danny suffered brain damage and went into a coma. Victor also managed to piss off Glory Girl around this time.

4: She has formed ties with most of the team; Crusader, Victor, Othala and Rune especially. Victor has been working with Taylor to build her a set of armour to wear out and about.

5: Coil has been trying (and failing) repeatedly to get a handle on Taylor. He's since hired Circus to recruit Shadow Stalker, had a key to Sophia's ankle cuff smuggled into the PRT building, and used his moles in the Empire to determine where Taylor and the majority of the Empire will be at a particular time.

6: Lung has been informed (by Coil's men) of Taylor's upcoming armour test run through Merchant territory. Circus and Shadow Stalker will be at the same time infiltrating the Medhall building to abduct Danny, who is just recently starting to show signs of recovering from his brain injury, assisted by Othala's regeneration.

7: Lung and Oni Lee hate Taylor because the last time they encountered her, she blew Lung's arm off and beat the snot out of Oni Lee.

8: Skidmark and Squealer are reacting to the incursion by bringing her latest creation out to play. It's basically the worst possible thing they could've done.]

Now, onto the story …

Glory Girl

Vicky got up from where she'd been trying to decipher the chicken-scratches of her math homework and checked her alarm clock. Silently she donned her costume, rehearsing in her mind the excuses she would use if she were to be caught.

"I got bored and decided to go on patrol."

"It's only Friday night ... I've got plenty of time to finish my homework."

"I just heard somewhere that something was going to go down in Merchant territory on Friday night."

('Somewhere' happened to be a casual mention by Dean, but she would never admit that.)

"I'm just going to see what's going on, promise."

And she fully intended to keep that promise in the moment it was made. In Vicky's own mind, she was even-tempered and entirely rational at all times. It was everyone else who caused problems.

Slipping out her bedroom window, she took to the air and set out across the city.

<><>

Taylor

When the Merchants tank came rumbling down the road, I was ready for it. There was a cloaking field to prevent people from seeing or hearing it, but my power ignored that altogether. Thus, I was able to assume positive control and disengage the power source—some Tinkertech affair that I neither understood nor tried to—from the drivetrain, bringing it to an abrupt halt. Likewise, when the driver attempted to attack me with any of the several guns mounted on the vehicle, I found it simple enough to prevent the mechanisms from working.

"Remote to Kaiser. I have a Merchants tank here. I believe there are Merchant capes inside. What should I do with them?"

Over the radio, I heard a very brief consultation. It ended just as the hatch on top of the tank began to open.

"Kaiser to Remote. Feel free to get rid of them."

"Understood. Lethal or non-lethal?" I hadn't intended to kill anyone tonight, but they did bring a tank to the party.

"If you can do it non-lethally, feel free. Otherwise … your choice."

Accordingly, I allowed the hatch to open all the way. A costumed figure started to climb out but when he was halfway out, I slammed the hatch into his back with all the force the hinge could muster. Then I swung the hatch back and did it again. He slid down into the tank limply.

As that was most likely Skidmark, it meant Squealer was in the driver's seat. Someone was still attempting to make the tank move, after all. I noted that there was a second hatch over her seat, as well as ejection mechanisms for both seats. I ensured the hatch would open, then triggered the ejection mechanisms. After they rocketed skyward, I closed and locked the hatches. Skidmark might have a rough landing, possibly fatal, but that would not be my problem.

That was when I 'saw' the new weapons appear in the midst of my allies, on the flying disc of metal. Grenades in a bandolier, as well as a pistol. Had I been capable of it, I would have gasped in horror. Instead, I powered up the Merchant tank's drivetrain, since it could move much faster than the armour I was wearing. As it thundered past, I leaped upward and grabbed the barrel of one of the guns.

In the meantime, I was also concentrating on the grenades and pistol. The latter was easy to prevent from working, but the grenades were trickier. Victor had explained to me that once the pin was pulled and the spoon released, a striker would be propelled down a metal tube by a powerful spring until it hit the percussion cap and start the time fuse burning. My power had no effect on springs, or on burning fuses. My only chance was to try to ensure the spoon didn't fly off or the striker didn't hit the percussion cap hard enough to set it off.

I knew who this was, of course. Oni Lee had once attempted to attack me while I was sitting in a car. I'd used the interior of the car to pummel him fairly convincingly, but now he was back for another attempt. And this time he was attacking my allies.

Decision: Oni Lee is too dangerous to allow to live. Kill him at first opportunity.

I still had more auxiliary units; as I sent the first one swooping back toward the disc, I took positive control of the second and had it latch onto one of the pre-prepared blocks of aluminum. The hatch in my 'shoulder-pad' opened, and the auxiliary unit took to the air. This one had no way of seeing where it was going, so I had it rise above the level of all the buildings in the area and move directly toward the other unit.

In that time, the number of enemy weapons in the area had doubled; I took this to mean that Oni Lee had teleported to beside himself, so that both versions could fight. As I 'watched', one of the Oni Lees began a ballistic arc to the ground below, while the one left behind on the disc activated a grenade. The spring was working hard to push the striker down the little tube (I still had no idea what it was called) to the percussion cap. I couldn't stop it, but I could slow it down. Fortunately, the force of the spring became weaker as it pushed farther down, so I was able to prevent it from striking with full force.

The grenade did not explode, but everyone on the disc began falling out of the sky anyway; not all at once, but in fits and starts. I 'saw' the armour that I identified as Crusader's lift into the air. The radio was alive with confused shouts, but the only one I could make out was Victor's voice: "Othala!"

Assumption: Something has disturbed Rune's concentration.

Assumption: Crusader is being supported by his ghosts.

Conclusions: Oni Lee has injured Rune. Something has happened to Othala.

I could not feel anger in that state, but the notion that Rune (and possibly Othala) had been hurt redoubled my intent to end his life. They were my allies and (when I was able to feel emotions) my friends. Also, they were not direct combatants. Attacking them with lethal force (I suspected Oni Lee knew of no other way to attack) was objectively wrong.

Then the camera unit arrived back at their location and I saw what was happening. The disc was now in free-fall, but nobody was on it. Crusader's ghosts were supporting himself, Kaiser and Rune (who hung loosely in their grasp). Menja, now on the ground, was thirty feet tall and still growing, while Victor was parkouring his way down the side of a nearby building.

"Where is Othala?" I asked. The disc hit the ground and bounced, but I paid no attention to that. There was a metal spike sticking out of the middle of it that hadn't been there before.

"Oni Lee teleported into the middle of us, stabbed Rune, then grabbed Othala and jumped off the disc with her," Kaiser reported. His voice was hard and clipped.

Conclusion: Anger. I could understand that. I suspected I would also feel angry, once I let my powers recede. I swooped the camera drone down toward where Othala lay in the street. It had no way of helping her, but I wished to gain an idea of her condition.

Observation: blood staining white part of costume.

Conclusion: injuries are severe.

Reinforced conclusion: Oni Lee has earned sentence of death.

"Where is Oni Lee now?" My voice was as level as ever. I would not get angry, for I was incapable of it. I would merely deliver justice.

"Motherfucker booked it." Crusader was panting as he had his ghosts lower himself and the others to the ground. "Hit and run. Fucking gook coward."

Observation: inflammatory wording, strained tone of voice.

Conclusion: anger.

I came around the corner and jumped off the tank as Kaiser landed on the ground and moved toward Othala. Victor was already bending over her. "Keep a lookout around!" shouted the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight. "He might come back for a second try!"

"Lung!" yelled Menja, her size-magnified voice shaking the screen I was watching. I swivelled the camera unit to look at her, then turned it again to see where she was pointing. It was indeed Lung, larger than I had seen him before, with flames flickering around him. He was leaping from one building to the next, coming in for the attack.

Observation: This was not a random encounter from Oni Lee. He and Lung are in this area on purpose. This is a planned ambush.

Conclusion: They knew we would be here.

Further conclusion: We have been betrayed. This was a trap.

<><>

Shadow Stalker

Fucking hell, I hope this isn't a trap.

Sophia stuck close behind Circus, her crossbow loaded and ready, just in case. They'd snuck in through the loading dock after Circus had pulled some chicanery with an electronic lockpick. Sophia had wanted to just phase through and open it from the inside, but Circus had vetoed that idea flat. "This is a supervillain base, remember. They know how to deal with power bullshit."

Your power is bullshit, Sophia had wanted to say but not quite been willing to voice out loud. The way Circus wore a skin-tight outfit without any pockets, yet could produce basically anything she wanted with a flip of the wrist was really, really aggravating. It wasn't like she had the stuff stored in her sleeves, which were also skin-tight.

But Sophia didn't want to get into an argument with Circus for several reasons, the main one not being that the smartass cape could make her feel stupid with a single raised eyebrow; at least, that was what she told herself. So she followed along behind, all the while wondering if she could get away with 'accidentally' shooting Circus once the job was done. Several times. Right in her smugly irritating face.

They moved on through the building, Circus consulting some kind of building plan on her phone as they went. This only served to raise Sophia's aggravation level. How did Circus know how to get a building plan? Why hadn't Sophia been given one as well? What if they got separated?

Still, the main aim here was to fuck up Hebert's entire life. Now that the worthless little queef had shown her true racist colours, it proved she'd been entirely justified the whole time she'd been pushing Hebert's face into the dirt, where she belonged. Hebert had been a neo-Nazi criminal all along, and criminals deserved punishment.

Circus stopped just short of a corner, and held up her hand in a fist. Sophia had seen enough war movies to know that meant 'stop', so she came to a halt and reflexively checked behind them. 'Six', or something, it was supposed to be called, wasn't it? She didn't know; she wasn't a soldier. Stupid war movies.

And then Circus was gone, around the corner, almost faster than Sophia could see. There was the sound of a scuffle, and she leaned around the corner herself. Circus had a security guard flat on the floor, with her knee in the middle of his back and his arms twisted up behind him. Shit, I never even heard him coming!

"Hi, there," Circus said in a conversational tone. "You can try yelling for help, but I've got your radio and there's nobody else on this floor, is there? So let's have a nice civilised conversation, where I ask the questions and you give the answers, and nobody gets hurt. Then I cuff you up—with your own cuffs, thank you very much—and we go on our merry way. You've clearly been overpowered by a cape, and you get drinks off your buddies for a few weeks for being tied up by a hot sexy supervillain. I might even get my colleague here to take a picture of us on your phone as a souvenir. How's that sound to you?"

He was a big man, brawny, with short-cut blond hair. Basically, the perfect Aryan type as far as Sophia understood things. But his size and muscle did him no good at all against the hold Circus had him in. Sophia knew how to apply a basic arm-bar, but this was a whole other level of painful-looking. He struggled briefly, then subsided.

"Fuck off, bitch," he grunted, one side of his face pressed flat to the linoleum. It looked smooth and clean, but Sophia knew he had to be finding every little bump and groove, every piece of lint and grit that the cleaners had missed, with his cheek. "Do what you want. You'll get nothing out of me."

"You know," mused Circus. "It's people who say things like that who break the fastest. It's like they think they're throwing an unbeatable bluff. But the funny thing about torture? Everyone breaks. Everyone. The stoic secret agent who endures a hundred volts running from his nuts to his nipples, and comes back with a sarcastic quip about how that was a shocking experience? Doesn't exist. Because he's too busy shitting and pissing himself, and trying to remember how to breathe again. And don't even talk to me about waterboarding. Trained CIA agents have volunteered for that one, to see how long they could go without breaking. Took 'em less than a minute to cry uncle."

The guard didn't even seem to be breathing anymore. Certainly he wasn't offering words of defiance. Sophia couldn't blame him; Circus had a way of speaking that caught the attention and ran away with it.

"I know what you're thinking to yourself," purred Circus. "You're thinking 'She doesn't have a car battery and a set of alligator clips', right? Well, you might be right and you might be wrong. I sometimes lose track of what I'm carrying around with me. Could I waterboard you? Sure, it only takes a handkerchief and a water bottle. But what if I don't have those, either? Whatever could I do?" She leaned close down to his ear, and the knife that was suddenly in her hand tickled his skin just beside his eye. From his violent twitch, he was fully aware of what she was holding. "Well, then," she breathed. "I suppose I'd have to get … creative."

Sophia caught the harsh reek of urine at about the same point as he started babbling, asking Circus what she wanted, literally begging her to ask him something, anything. It wasn't surprising; just the way she said 'creative' put chills down Sophia's back.

"Sh-sh-sh-shhh," Circus murmured, stroking the side of the knife over the bridge of the man's nose, where his eyes frantically crossed in an effort to follow it. "I just want to know one thing. Then you can just lie here and relax and wait to be found. Okay? Okay. So, here's what I want to know. Where are they keeping Hebert? The skinny guy, in a coma? What floor is he on?"

Sophia grinned behind her mask as she watched the guy's eye follow the wickedly sharp tip of the knife while Circus wove it in tiny figure-eights. As much as she disliked Circus, she hated the Empire even more, and watching one of those assholes crumble to pieces was fuckin' amazing.

The guy talked, of course.

<><>

Medhall Building

Peter Ferguson

The worst part about dating a cape, Peter decided, wasn't the power imbalance. Any two people were imbalanced in some way; one would always be stronger than the other, one would always be smarter, and so on. The imbalance would never come up if neither one wanted it to.

No, what he really hated about this was the fact that Taylor would be going out with the rest of the Empire capes and facing danger without him at her side. He knew why it had to be this way; without powers, he would be at best vulnerable and at worst an actual liability as people (specifically, Taylor) put themselves in danger to save him. Even when her powers were active and she claimed to feel no emotions, he knew she would go the extra mile just to ensure his safety.

He was convinced Uncle Max and the others wouldn't let her get hurt—Victor had assured him the armour she was walking around in would withstand anything short of anti-tank ordnance—but still, the idea of her facing off against hostile capes who only had to get lucky once had him tasting bile at the back of his throat. To work off some of his tension, he'd been punishing the bag in the gym for awhile, but that was starting to lose its novelty. There were only so many ways he could hit it and pretend he was smashing in Skidmark's face, after all.

I know what I can do. Taylor read out loud to her father when she got the chance. The book series Peter had loaned her for the purpose wasn't to the taste of most of the Empire, except where it came to Thor and Odin being badasses, but he enjoyed the characterisation and sheer breadth and depth that had gone into the narrative. He'd already read the current one from cover to cover, but that didn't mean he couldn't go visit Mr. Hebert and read some more to him. Besides, Taylor could never get Avis' voice deep enough. In his opinion, anyway.

He took the time to shower off the sweat—just because Mr. Hebert wasn't able to respond didn't mean he couldn't smell body odour—and change into T-shirt and jeans. As an afterthought, he tucked the .380 P3AT in its low-profile holster into the back of his waistband, because it had been drummed into him: no matter how secure you think you are, your safety is ultimately your own responsibility.

This had been emphasized by the ABB attacks on Taylor, before she powered up. Once he got powers of his own (if he ever did) he would probably be able to leave it off. Until then, he'd been told to get used to wearing it.

Humming a tune that had gotten stuck in his head from the heavy metal music Hookwolf preferred to meditate to, he took the elevator to the level where Mr. Hebert had been installed. He wasn't sure whose idea it was to decorate the rooms with some of Hitler's paintings but they gave it a home-like air, even if the man had been more adept at politics than the visual arts.

The whimsical tone of his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he reached the open doorway of the anteroom to hear muffled voices up ahead. Neither of them belonged to Mary, the nurse who'd been charged with Mr. Hebert's care and feeding. And in fact, if he wasn't much mistaken, the foot protruding from beyond the doorframe was wearing the same style of sensible flat-soled shoe that Mary preferred.

"No, lift him from that side. Watch that cord, you'll get it tangled!"

"Fuck the cords, let's just get the old geezer into the chair and fuck off out of here!"

There was a sigh of aggravation. "No, if we just disconnect them, alarms will go off from here 'til Wednesday. I would've thought someone like you understood the concept of 'silent in, silent out'?"

"Well, I'm not a fuckin' nurse. How'm I supposed to know that shit?"

"Perhaps if you hadn't shot the actual nurse, I might've been able to get her to tell us which ones he needs."

"Yeah, and give her every chance in the world to set off the alarm herself. That'd work. Anyway, she's a fuckin' Nazi; what's it to you?"

"News flash, sunshine. Not everyone employed by a white supremacist organisation is going to be a Nazi, or even a racist. Okay, I think that's done it. Now get ready to lift from that side while I get the chair ready."

Reaching behind his back, Peter drew the .380 and backed up alongside the doorframe. Like any other teen, he was able to activate his phone one-handed, but the trouble was, this was happening right now, and God only knew what these people (who had potentially murdered Mary) were going to do with Mr. Hebert if they were left to their own devices. From the sounds of it, at least one of the pair didn't care about his well-being.

At least one of the voices sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He couldn't stop to think about it right now.

And who would he call, anyway? Uncle Max was out on a mission, and even if Kaiser had his phone on him, there was no way he'd be able to get it out from under the armour. Mr. Fleischer hadn't gone along, which meant he was hopefully in the building, along with Bradley, Melody and maybe Jessica. But if he backed off far enough to call for help without being heard, the intruders would have a head start, with a hostage.

Fuck it. It's up to me. Leading with the pistol, he glanced around the doorframe, just in time to see a stern-woman mask looking back at him. Fuck! It's Shadow Stalker! It's fucking Sophia Hess!

"Fuck! It's the boyfriend!"

He dropped into the Weaver stance, lining up with her centre mass. "Stalker! Show me your hands! Tell your friend to come out right now, or I will—"

She brought up a crossbow from behind her cloak. He fired twice, each flat crack assaulting his eardrums; the string twanged at the same instant, and he felt a burning line across the outside of his calf. Shadow Stalker fell backward out of sight, but in the instant before she vanished he saw red blossoming on the shoulder of her costume.

Green smoke billowed across the doorway, cutting off his line of sight. He backed off, pistol still lined at the doorway. Warm liquid ran down his ankle and soaked into his sneaker. Yanking his phone out of his pocket, he woke it up via muscle memory and hit Krieg's number.

"What the fuck?" Over the ringing in his ears, he vaguely heard Shadow Stalker's voice from inside the smoke cloud. "Fucker shot me!"

"Did he shoot you in the legs?" The other voice sounded remarkably unsympathetic.

"No, just the shoulder! Fuck, that hurts!"

"Then you can run. This is a wash. We have to get out of here."

"Not if we kill that little fucker!" Shadow Stalker sounded positively murderous.

Mr. Fleischer's abrupt tones came through over the phone. "Mister Ferguson. I hope you've got a good reason for disturbing me."

"Couple of people trying to kidnap Taylor's dad," Peter gasped. "One of them's Shadow Stalker. Dunno about the other one. I shot Stalker. And they know about the Empire!"

Krieg's voice went from annoyed to disbelieving. "What? What's happening now?"

"They've got smoke bombs. Green smoke. Other one's a woman. Dunno who." Aware he was leaving bloody footprints, Peter eased around the corner of the corridor, leaving just his gun and one eye covering the doorway to the anteroom. "I've backed off a bit. Dunno what—"

At that moment, two black spheres about the size of baseballs bounced out of the green fog. Peter instinctively ducked back around the corner, just before the balls exploded violently. He would forever swear that he felt shrapnel hum past him to embed in the wall opposite, and his ears stopped working altogether. He thought he screamed the word, "FUCK!" but he couldn't even hear that much.

Glancing back around the doorframe, he saw that the green smoke cloud was dissipating, and that the section of the corridor leading up to the anteroom had been utterly trashed. Acrid smoke, of the non-coloured variety, was starting to drift toward the ceiling, but he didn't think anything was on fire. That clearly didn't matter to the fire system, because at that point the sprinklers chose to kick into action.

His leg was really starting to hurt now, but he didn't care. Gun up and ready, he limped back around the corner and headed toward Mr. Hebert's room. He knew what Mr. Hebert looked like, and if anyone else came out of there, he was going to shoot the living shit out of them.

Just as the green smoke thinned enough to allow visibility, there was a thump and purple smoke started to billow in the anteroom. Instead of backing off again, he moved up, keeping off to the side. He couldn't overhear any more talking, but that didn't mean anything. The way his ears were ringing, they could've been playing the 1812 Overture complete with real cannons and he wouldn't have heard a thing.

As he reached the doorframe, there was a stirring in the purple smoke and a woman in a harlequin costume came out in a diving roll. He snapped a shot by reflex, missing high. Steel glinted as knives flew from her hand—where did she get those from?—and he was too busy dodging to improve his aim. One grazed his arm, and the other smacked into the doorframe right about eye level; he fired back twice, but she'd dropped another smoke bomb—blue, this time—and had vanished into the resultant cloud.

He didn't know if she was coming back, but from what she'd been saying before, he didn't think so. In any case, Shadow Stalker was still in there, as was Mr. Hebert, and he didn't trust her not to do something vindictive just to fuck with the Empire. He wasn't sure how many rounds he had left, but a quick check showed there was one in the chamber and that was good enough for him. All he needed was a clear line on her centre mass, and there would be no loss to Brockton Bay at all.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the cloud of purple smoke and out the other side. Stalker was in there alright, the shoulder of her costume shiny with blood, leaning over Mr. Hebert with a razor-sharp arrowhead just touching his throat. He couldn't tell if she was saying something or not, but she seemed the type to enjoy gloating over a helpless victim. I'll never understand why they ever considered her a hero.

He fired, the small pistol jolting back into his palm, but she saw him first and went to her shadow form. The bullet whipped through and punched a hole in the wall, but he wasn't watching that. He was watching the cloud of shadow. Mr Hebert seemed to be unharmed at the moment, but he knew that could change at any moment.

Going under the bed in the blink of an eye, Shadow Stalker reformed more or less in his face with the arrow still in her hand, stabbing upward toward his stomach. He couldn't fire because she was between him and the bed, and if she went to shadow, he'd hit Mr. Hebert. So he threw himself backward and sideways, straightarming the pistol and squeezing the trigger as fast as he could.

Bang. She flickered to shadow and back again. The wall above her head acquired a new hole.

Click.

He assumed her hearing hadn't been as compromised as his was, because the speed at which she reacted to the sound implied she’d heard it as easily as he felt it through his hand. In a motion that she had to have practiced, she whipped out a crossbow and slotted the arrow into place. Time seemed to stretch as Peter looked for an option, some way to get out of this. His gun was empty, and the way he'd fallen, only his wounded leg had leverage. Right beside him was Mary's body, the bloody hole in her chest all that remained of the arrow Shadow Stalker had shot her with. Slowly, almost teasingly, the crossbow came up to point at his face.

"Well, you're a fuckin' Nazi at least." She seemed gleeful at the idea. "I'm gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna kill Hebert's dad. So when your bitch Nazi girlfriend Hebert gets back, she'll see how you totally failed to protect him."

He stared at her unflinchingly. Fergusons didn't back down, and they didn't show fear to their enemies. "I passed on word that you were here. Whether you kill me or not, you're fucked."

"Bullshit." She chuckled grimly. "I've been in the PRT building all this time. You have no idea who I am. You can't fuckin' touch me."

His grin stretched across his face, all the more feral for the pain in his leg. "Emma came to me and told me exactly who you are, Sophia. She sold your sorry ass down the river, just to keep her family safe. The PRT might be able to protect you, but how are you going to tell them to protect your family? Your mom? Your brother? Your sister?"

Even through the eyeholes of the full-face mask, he saw her eyes widen, and realized he'd pushed her too hard. Her hand clenched on the crossbow.

His last thought before she pulled the trigger was to hope that he'd delayed Stalker long enough for his reinforcements to prevent her from murdering Danny Hebert.

The arrow came off the crossbow like a hunting falcon, launching itself toward his left eye. He flinched involuntarily, but after a few seconds with no impact he opened his eyes.

The arrow hung in the air between them, slowly inching its way toward him.

Oh, thank God.

<><>

Circus

Getting out was a lot easier than getting in. Circus had palmed the security guard's swipe card, which dealt with the major problem of passing through locked doors without a lot of fiddling with an electronic device. Ducking into a storage closet, she pulled out an appropriate change of clothing and made the switch from 'hot sexy supervillain' to 'nerdy male computer programmer', complete with glasses and pocket protector.

It was the glasses, he decided as he waved to the security guards on the way out the front door. Nobody ever thought a supervillain would need to wear glasses. That, and they were looking for a woman in makeup and skintight bodysuit. Discreet shoulder padding and loose trousers gave him a totally different look.

Once he was free and clear, he pulled out his phone and texted Shadow Stalker.

Hey.

Nothing.

Hey. You clear?

A long pause, then a message popped up.

Yeah. Where can we meet?

A smirk curled his lip. That wasn't Shadow Stalker. He typed in his reply.

Same place as the first time. Fugly's, remember?

The answer was a lot quicker this time.

Yeah, I remember. I'll be there in half an hour.

He shook his head. They had Shadow Stalker, or she'd dropped her phone; probably the former. Either way, she was burned as an asset. Oh, well. Sucks to be her. Time to give the boss the bad news.

<><>

Coil

Calvert's phone buzzed and he picked it up. It was a text from Circus. Moving unhurriedly, he opened it. With any luck, Hebert senior would've been acquired or killed, but that was a secondary priority to Lung seriously weakening the Empire to the point that Remote could be brought in or killed; whichever was easiest.

Mission went bad. We nearly got the guy, but some asshole interfered.

Hebert was fine, last I saw. SS is probably captive.

Imma go dark for a bit til they forget my involvement.

C

Under his mask, his lips pressed together in a tight grimace. Losing Circus' services for awhile would sting, although he had other resources to call upon. He'd been careful to ensure Shadow Stalker never got the slightest hint as to who was behind her extracurricular recruitment, so the Empire wouldn't think to come harassing his men for payback. It could definitely have been worse.

He hadn't actually given Circus orders to abandon Shadow Stalker in the Medhall building, but that was also a bonus for him. If they decided to go public with her having invaded their space, it would prove a huge PR backlash for the Wards and PRT in general. In fact, the more paranoid minds among them were likely to suspect PRT involvement anyway. And if they simply murdered her and got rid of her body in an unmarked grave, the PRT would be forever wondering what happened to her and the Empire would be focusing more on the PRT than on his own operations.

Whichever way it fell out, he was in the clear.

Life, he decided, was looking good.

<><>

Taylor

Analysis: This is bad.

Observation: Lung is increasing in size.

Conclusion: This is very bad indeed.

Without pausing at the edge of the rooftop, covered in metal scales and wreathed in flames, Lung took a running leap and plunged into the middle of my Empire comrades. Menja sought to intercept him with her spear, but at the last moment, Oni Lee was literally in her face, blocking her view. I saw her lurch backward while I tried to line up a shot with the armed auxiliary unit. My power noted that he'd activated a grenade and shoved it down the front of her armour, so I set about preventing it from exploding.

For a split second, Crusader's ghosts converged on Lung to hold him in one place, but a burst of fire sent him stumbling backward, his concentration destroyed as he tried to beat out the flames on his costume. I strode forward; as the most armoured of all Empire capes there, I was the logical choice to combat Lung. But before I got there, Lung broke free of the wavering ghosts and pounced on Kaiser.

Menja seized Oni Lee and threw him away from her, giving my armed unit the chance to open fire. Five shots hit the tumbling demonic cape, but then he puffed into ash, leaving me to believe he was no longer—

My armour swayed as a weight landed on my back and my helmet. A black-gloved hand clawed at the armoured glass covering where my face would be if I were three feet taller, then a knife came into view, hacking at the clear covering. I swung my arm up and back, attempting to throw him off, but again his weaponry vanished in what I knew would be a puff of ash.

Kaiser screamed, his voice audible even within my armour, as Lung clawed away metal plates from his back. The Asian cape was now over ten feet tall, his flames lighting up the area all around. I took another step forward to put me in reach, then activated the chain. It whipped out across the distance that separated us and wrapped around Lung's arm. Setting myself—despite the disparity in size, I suspected we were much the same weight—I heaved, hauling Lung away from my commander.

Analysis: Based on previous actions, Oni Lee will focus on trying to neutralize or kill me.

Conclusion: He will be back.

Even as Lung tore at the chain, trying to loosen it or pull me off balance, the weight on my shoulders returned. My left arm snapped up, aligning in accordance with what my camera unit was showing me, and I triggered the telescoping spike up past the helmet of my armour. It lashed out, punching through Oni Lee's breastbone and out his back. Acting upon the assumption this was the original Oni Lee and not a teleport-clone, I continued the movement, flinging the man up and forward so that he flew off the spike and collided with Lung then flopped to the ground.

Lung looked around and down, at the feebly twitching Oni Lee. His features at this size were no longer human, and I thought I could feel the heat radiating from him where I was. I watched as his expression changed to one I could not decipher.

Analysis: Either anger or fear.

Further analysis: Fear very unlikely.

Conclusion: Killing Oni Lee has made him extremely angry.

Decision: This is a good thing. Anger leads to poor decisions.

Lung ceased trying to lever the chain loose at that point. Turning fully toward me and away from Kaiser, he started in my direction, attempting to use the chain to reel me in. I pretended to let that work, as Menja moved toward Kaiser behind his back.

Letting out a roar that I heard clear through the armour, he washed flame over me. I started feeling unpleasantly warm, but not painfully hot. Metal, as I knew well, was a good conductor of heat.

Mental note: speak to Victor about better heat insulation.

I pretended to resist being pulled in, right up until he gave a heave that should have dragged me into his grasp. At that moment, I lunged with my right arm outward, fist clenched. Just before I would have made contact, I triggered the telescoping spike from that arm. It met considerably more resistance when punching through his breastbone than it had with Oni Lee, but this time it had all the weight of my armour behind it. He staggered as I stabbed him through the body, but did not go down.

Analysis: Lung's regeneration allows him to survive potentially fatal wounds.

Conclusion: I will have to try harder.

At this range, the air inside the armour was getting unpleasantly hot, and I was beginning to sweat. I attempted to stab him again, with the spike from my left arm, but the angle was wrong and it skidded off his metal scales. He took hold of my armour's helmet with one hand and my right wrist with the other, and started to squeeze. His strength was considerable; I could feel the metal beginning to deform, the carefully machined moving parts losing touch with one another.

Analysis: Danger level increasing.

Conclusion: Disengaging would be optimum.

My camera-equipped auxiliary unit could see that my comrades were making use of my distraction, carrying Kaiser, Othala and Rune from the field. That was good, but now I needed a distraction of my own.

My armed auxiliary swooped down, lined up on Lung's body, and triggered a burst of tungsten darts. He grunted as they struck him, but his grip didn't loosen enough. It fired again, enough to shred an ordinary man from head to toe. Wounds opened in his flesh, but closed again almost immediately. He was now almost twice my height, with wings sprouting from his back.

Observation: Tungsten darts ineffective.

Suggestion: Use chain as an offensive weapon.

The heat within the armour was such that I was having trouble thinking. I took the chain, dropping links where they had been crushed in his fist, and reconnecting them to make a single length once more. Then I wrapped it around his neck and body, turned the tungsten blades, and activated them. Metal screeched and sparks flew, but Lung seemed more durable than a broomstick or a pistol. His regeneration was healing him faster than I could damage him. I attempted to spin up the back-mounted electrical generators, but something was wrong with them, and they could not get up to speed.

The silicone layer inside the armour was beginning to soften and ooze downward. I prepared myself for an all-out attack to get free from Lung. If this continued much longer, he would cook me in my own armour without ever laying a hand on me.

And then, suddenly, with a tremendous impact, he was gone. I found myself skidding sideways, my armour throwing up sparks from the asphalt. Swivelling my camera-equipped auxiliary unit, I managed to get a view of a hovering person on the heat-warped screen within the armour.

Observation: Glory Girl has attacked Lung.

Analysis: She does not know who I am inside the armour.

Conclusion: She believes me to be a fellow hero.

Lung surged to his feet, roaring something incoherent. I suspected that if I recorded it and played it back, it might be possible to decipher it as swearing. The armour remained uncomfortably hot and the right wrist was not responding properly, but I was still able to function. I made the chain leap off Lung and writhe back to me, where it reconnected to the end protruding from the arm port.

Glory Girl said something to Lung that I didn't hear.

Supposition: She's told him to leave or be beaten up.

Analysis: A display of solidarity will help back the threat up.

Stepping forward, I assumed the basic posture of readiness that Peter had shown me. In addition, I had the tank rumble up behind me and aim its guns at Lung as well.

Temptation: Open fire now, before he attacks.

Negation: That might trigger an attack. The armour needs to be improved and upgraded before facing him again.

Conclusion: Forcing him to leave now is the best option. Increase intimidation presence.

I took another step forward and caused the chains to whip around my armour threateningly. Both my auxiliary units took up station above me, aiming their respective cargoes at Lung. The tank moved six feet closer.

Abruptly, Lung turned and leaped to the top of the nearest building, clearing three storeys with ease. His wings spread and helped him glide at the top of the jump, though I could not tell if he was able to fly as yet. I stayed on guard in case this was a feint, but it did not seem to be the case.

Analysis: Lung is leaving.

Proposition: Glory Girl may be open to persuasion to ask Panacea to heal Othala, Rune and Kaiser, as their wounds were caused by ABB ambush.

Glory Girl turned to me. "Well, that was fun. Glad I got here in time to help you …" Her voice trailed off, then changed in tone. "You."

Observation: Eyes narrowing.

Analysis: She is looking past me, toward Victor.

Further analysis: anger.

Conclusion: She still holds a grudge against him for shooting Panacea.

Final conclusion: This fight is not yet over.

Part 23