Earning Her Stripes Pt 26 (Patreon)

In the Crosshairs

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

Taylor

We met for lunch out in the courtyard, between two wings of the main building. The cafeteria had seemed very clean and orderly when I saw it, but I wasn't quite ready to go in there yet. Emma and Madison were willing to take my lead on the matter, so we found a picnic-style table under a shade tree.

Emma looked around after we'd sat down. "Wow, this is nice. Good call coming out here, Taylor."

I wasn't quite sure if she was being one hundred percent genuine or if she was just trying to pay off some small part of the unpleasantness she'd visited on me before Sophia acquired the vials, but I decided not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. "Thanks. It is kind of pretty out here. And I haven't seen one bit of graffiti."

Madison nodded. "I know, right? And the soda vending machines actually work. So do the security cameras."

Neither of which we'd had at Winslow, at least in a working state. Soda machines had been relentlessly vandalised to get at the drinks or the coin storage, and security cameras were invariably wrecked within days (or hours) of being installed. To be attending a school with both was a whole new experience.

"Y'know," drawled Emma, "I'm beginning to think of how Winslow got totalled less and less as matter of destruction of property, and more as a public service to everyone who was attending there."

"It was still a criminal act, of course." I said that as deadpan as I knew how, mainly to reassure the others that I wasn't going to be jumping directly into supervillainy and dragging them with me.

"Oh, totes," Madison agreed, in that same inflection-free tone. At the same time, she rolled her eyes expressively. "Mind you, there's a Faraday cage around the whole building; did you know that?"

"So nobody can browse their phone during class?" I mimed shock, spreading my hand over my heart. "I am thoroughly mortified at the utter lack of respect for teenage rights."

Emma smirked. "Says the girl who doesn't own a phone."

I wrinkled my nose at her. "And you not being able to look up PHO when you're bored in class is my fault how?"

All three of us grinned. The joke was that we all knew damn well how it was my fault, but not one of us was actually going to put a name to the elephant in the room.

"Y'know," Madison mused. "I bet Blockade could build a phone capable of getting through a Faraday cage."

"Ah, yes," Emma countered, "but would it be man-portable?"

She had an extremely valid point. I could totally see any communications device Madison constructed being able to defeat a Faraday cage, quite possibly by melting the wires forming the barrier. However, while such a phone would probably be able to be carried by one person, it would likely need to be lugged around in a backpack.

The thing was, I didn't need a device that could that. If I ended up acquiring a cell phone for use as Monochrome, I just wanted one that made calls and accepted them. Also, text messages.

"For a given definition of the phrase, yes," Madison retorted, confirming my inner suspicions. Loftily ignoring our knowing smirks, she pulled out her own phone and started it up. "But out here, we're good … huh."

Emma paused in the act of taking a bite out of her sandwich. "That didn't sound like a casual 'huh', Mads. What's up?"

Glancing from side to side discreetly, Madison lowered her voice and leaned in toward us. "There's a private message on PHO from the guy with Emma's favourite pointy stick, asking me if we can attend a sit-down meeting with his boss sometime in the next few days."

It took me a few seconds to parse that out. 'The guy with Emma's favourite pointy stick' had to be Armsmaster, and thus his boss was Director Piggot of the PRT. "Does he say why? Is there some sort of problem?"

Madison shook her head. "He does not. But that guy doesn't do subtle or misleading. If there was a problem, he wouldn't be asking. He'd be strongly advising."

"I agree," Emma said. "There's something going that she wants to talk to us about, and maybe clear up, before it gets to the status of 'official problem'."

"And the big question is, what could it be?" I frowned, trying to figure it out. "Sophia would've totally told them everything she knows about us. Think she went ahead and made up some lies, too?"

Emma and Madison glanced at each other, then they both nodded in unison. "Totally," Madison confirmed.

"In a heartbeat," Emma agreed. "Though she's not stupid. She'd spill everything she knew about us, then try to make up something that was at least mildly believable. To anyone who didn't know us now, anyway."

"Which means we've got to go in there and nip whatever plan she's got in the bud, doesn't it?" I grimaced. "I thought that once we put her away, she wouldn't be a problem anymore."

Madison raised her eyebrows. "You have met Sophia, right?"

She had a point, and I knew it. "Oh, ha ha," I grumbled. "You guys okay with going in after school?"

Emma flicked an almost imperceptible salute in my direction. "You're the boss."

And here I'd been thinking that was a good thing.

<><>

Victor

It was a good restaurant in the nice part of town. The waitstaff knew their roles, and were appropriately grateful for a generous tip. While they weren't celebrating any particular occasion, he'd decided that taking Othala out for an early dinner would be a nice thing to do.

Just as he was starting on the main course, his phone buzzed. Ignoring the look of irritation on her face, he took the phone out and checked the screen. It was Kaminsky, one of his more dependable men. Swiping the 'answer' icon, he held the phone to his ear. "Speak."

"We just saw them, sir." Kaminsky didn't have to elaborate on who 'they' were. "Flying in to land on the roof of the PRT building. All three of them."

He loved it when a plan came together. "Good. As we discussed. Inform me of any issues." Ending the call, he slipped the phone away again.

The plan, once anyone saw them in the air or on the ground, was not to engage them. Instead, his men had been given orders to set up a cordon around the location where they had been seen, and then follow them as far as possible once they went on the move again. Each car had a driver, a spotter, and a coordinator; that way, nobody would be overwhelmed with what they had to do.

Whatever the Real Thing were doing at the PRT building, it surely would not be over in five minutes, or even fifteen. Therefore, he saw no need to rush. He smiled at Othala, who looked only slightly mollified that the call had been so short and the phone was back in his pocket. "So, you were saying?"

She didn't return the smile. "I wasn't saying anything, but I thought this was going to be 'us' time."

"I'm sorry." Dealing with unhappy women was more an art than a skill, but he knew enough to start apologising immediately. "It was that thing we were talking about before."

"I know what it was." Her tone had not yet thawed. "Couldn't you have let them pass it on to James or Max instead?"

He tried to go for 'conciliatory'. "Sweetheart, they've got their own things they're doing. This is what I'm handling. We've still got time to enjoy ourselves; I can't see anything happening for a while."

"Well … alright." She applied herself to her meal, but with a slight hitch to her eyebrow and flare of her nostrils that said he hadn't heard the last of this.

He sighed and took the first forkful of his own meal. I'll be so happy when we've got this sorted out and everything's back to normal.

<><>

Coil

Thomas Calvert was not a happy man.

First, the Undersiders had turned down his job offer to get blackmail-worthy dirt on the Real Thing. It wouldn't have been cheap, but he'd learned long ago that genuine mud stuck far more thoroughly and did more damage than fake accusations. Unfortunately, it seemed every freelancer in the city had either seen the footage of the Lung/Hookwolf takedown, or had heard about it. All he had to do was merely mention the concept of gathering information on the Real Thing, and the call was as good as over.

It would also have been good if Piggot had just accepted his word that the Real Thing had had something to do with the destruction of Winslow High School. But she'd done the worst thing she could: she'd asked for evidence. If she'd just decided not to believe it, that would've been something he could roll with. "Okay, yeah, I was wrong." Then he could find something they'd actually done, and his plans would be on track again. But now he was stuck trying to make Tab A fit into Slot B, and they were totally different shapes.

Not helping in the slightest was the fact that Piggot's Internal Affairs department was actually on the damn ball. He'd thus far managed to escape their concentrated scrutiny, though he'd had a few close calls, such as when he nearly got caught selling sensitive information to both the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB. Only his powers had prevented him from walking straight into no fewer than three separate sting operations; even though he'd avoided direct accusations, they'd been further up his ass than his proctologist for the next six months. The chances of setting up any moles in the building for getting him back-channel information had been slim to fuck-all.

In the absence of actual dirt, he was going to have to manufacture some. This wasn't something his powers were particularly useful for, though they made it relatively easy to present such dirt, changing tracks to most readily present it in a way that Piggot would swallow the story. He was just going to have to figure out how they could've done it, then 'find' some witnesses willing to say whatever he would pay them to say.

Firebird, he dismissed almost immediately. As athletic and hard-hitting as she evidently was—she'd made a mess of Oni Lee—punching out a school was unlikely to be her forte.

Monochrome was actually a more likely candidate; while he didn't necessarily subscribe to the popular theory that she was stronger than Alexandria, she was definitely no weakling. The sheer power with which she swung that staff, not to mention how she squeezed Lung's neck until he passed out, had a lot of people making a lot of wild-ass guesses online. But still, Thomas didn't really see it.

Winslow had been an entire high school, four stories high with a footprint covering several thousand square yards. To utterly demolish the structure as it was would've required her to repeatedly run through the entire building, punching support structures as she went. And it wouldn't have created the double booom that he (and half of Brockton Bay) had heard that night.

He wasn't trying to find reasons to excuse her, but he knew damn well that whatever story he came up with would be scrutinised to a fare-thee-well, so it needed to be internally consistent with the facts. So, while he had no doubt she was capable of punching through a brick wall, he didn't think anyone would believe that she'd demolished an entire school in a matter of seconds.

Which left Blockade as his fall guy.

Blockade was a Tinker, which was a point in his favour; Tinkers built the darnedest things. Even better, Blockade's tech was demonstrably bulky (which wasn't overly important), hard to break (a little more important) and powerful (absolutely important). A bomb might have been one way to do it (or rather, two bombs), except that Thomas had trouble envisaging a bomb that Blockade might build.

Instead of a bomb, he was thinking of a mechanical shockwave generator that, when activated, destroyed everything around it, but was itself left pristine. The first pulse to destabilise everything, and the second to shatter the entire school. It was actually (insofar as he was no expert on Tinkers and what they could build) quite feasible, and he took a moment to enjoy the amusement value of 'what if this is what actually happened?'

Moment over, he went back to being professional. Method, motive and opportunity: those were the three cornerstones of any criminal investigation. Blockade would've had method and opportunity nailed down, but what Thomas needed to establish was some kind of motive.

It would've helped to know who the guy was outside the suit, but he had zilch in that regard. However, he thought he knew how he could find out.

Shadow Stalker, the original third member of the Real Thing, had been arrested for attempted murder, and handed over to the authorities by her own teammates. Rumour had it that she was blabbing every secret they possessed—including, presumably, their secret identities—in order to try to get a more lenient deal from Piggot.

Thomas could've told her that she was betting on a dead horse there; as a measure of Director Emily Piggot's susceptibility to blandishments, the woman may as well have had a heart made of tungsten carbide and blood of liquid nitrogen. But if he could just get access to Shadow Stalker, he was sure she would tell all to a sympathetic ear.

Unfortunately, said access was being very tightly controlled, almost certainly because of her attempts to betray her ex-teammates' secrets. The consequences for sneaking in were bound to be extreme.

Thomas smiled. Evading extreme consequences were his very bread and butter.

<><>

Taylor

I could've let go the handle on the back of Madison's power armour and dropped to the roof of the PRT building from basically any height, but I decided not to. Showboating was probably not the best way to start off this meeting with Director Piggot. And so, Emma and I waited until Madison was dropping the last foot or so, then stepped off in unison. Our feet hit the rooftop at the same time as the suit's boots did; dramatic and coordinated, but not showboating as such.

At least, I hoped it wouldn't be seen that way.

I saw Director Piggot standing under the shelter of a pavilion that had been set up in front of the roof entry, flanked by Armsmaster and a couple of PRT troopers. The latter were probably just there for show, but that was fine. Armsmaster appeared to be his usual stolid self, and Director Piggot just looked like a soldier in a business suit. The discreet medal ribbons merely added to the impression; although she was solidly built and might not have been quite as fit as when she last wore a uniform, I suspected there was more muscle than fat under there.

"Hello again, Director," I said, approaching them. "You wanted to meet?"

"I did, yes." If her steel-grey eyes had been any more penetrating, I would've suspected her of having powers. "I appreciate the timely response. We have three options from here, as Blockade's armour is manifestly incapable of taking either the elevator or the stairs to my office. The first is to hold the meeting right here. The second is for Blockade to participate remotely." She paused expectantly, evidently waiting for us to fill in the third option for ourselves.

"And the third option is for me to step out of my armour and come on down to your office without it." Madison didn't sound surprised. "I'm guessing Shadow Stalker already blabbed who I am to all and sundry?"

"She attempted to do so, yes," Armsmaster confirmed. "She's currently under secure holding, and everyone who will be coming within earshot of her signs an NDA first. No uncleared personnel in that area."

"So you know, and the Director knows. How about these two faceless minions here?" Madison gestured to the troopers.

"Lieutenant Harvey and Captain Rogan have both been hand-picked by me, and have signed the NDA," Director Piggot said. "If you choose to vacate your armour, they will guard it until you return."

"You've put a lot of prep into this meeting," Emma observed. "Do you bend over this far backward for every hero who shows up for a chat?"

"No, but the way you handled Hookwolf, Lung and Oni Lee got my attention." Director Piggot's tone was as deadpan as her expression. "Antagonising you would not be in the best interests of the PRT, and I do believe we need to have this meeting."

"Well, you've convinced me." Madison's suit tromped inside the pavilion then went to a kneeling position. As the troopers pulled the cover across the opening, the front of the suit opened up and she climbed out. Director Piggot handed me a domino mask, but when I turned toward Madison, she was already wearing one. She grinned at whatever expression she saw on our faces. "What? I figured this might happen, so I came prepared."

As she stepped away from the suit, it folded up into its compact metal-box form, shimmered slightly, and took on the appearance of a wooden crate with metal bands padlocked around it. A black and yellow sticker with the words TOP SECRET KEEP OUT was plastered across the front.

"So I see." Director Piggot nodded to the two PRT men, and gestured toward the elevator. "If you would come this way?"

<><>

Armsmaster

Finding out that Blockade was indeed a petite teenage girl was still something Colin was having trouble getting his head around. Certainly, Shadow Stalker had told the Director (and thus, him) everything she could in an attempt to mitigate her own punishment, but there was knowing something and then there was knowing. His mental image of the Tinker, right up until the front of the suit opened and she stepped out, had been of a brother in arms, perhaps of a similar age, one with similar life experiences. Alas, it was not to be; while he could still collaborate with her, it would never quite be the same.

He was still working on regaining his mental equilibrium when they entered the Director's office. Three chairs had been set up in a row; by wordless agreement, Firebird and Monochrome took the outer chairs, flanking the now-vulnerable Blockade. Piggot herself sat down behind her desk, leaving Colin to take up his customary place alongside the desk.

Piggot laced her hands together and looked at the three teenage heroes. "To risk a cliché, you're probably wondering why I requested your presence here today."

Monochrome nodded. "We were, kind of. Is it something we've done, or something you'd like us to do or not do in the future?"

"It's all of the above, but not in the way you think." Director Piggot paused for a beat, perhaps to gather her thoughts. Colin knew what was going on, of course, but this was the Director's show. He was merely there to emphasise that the Protectorate was in the loop about what was happening.

"So, what is it that we're supposed to have done?" asked Firebird. "And who's levelled the accusation? Because if it's any kind of legal issue, we are going to get a lawyer in on this before we say anything else."

Director Piggot shook her head. "There have been no credible allegations of wrongdoing. I've asked you here to speak about the gang situation. Specifically, how you very convincingly took down three extremely dangerous cape villains and made it look easy."

The three girls shared a look of confusion, then Monochrome spoke. "I don't follow."

"And here's where it gets problematic." The Director sighed. "Understand that this is not a dressing-down. I am not yelling at you for being heroes and defeating villains. It's more or less your function in society, while in costume. However, there are issues at stake that you would not—could not—have been aware of before you did this."

There was a pause, then Firebird spoke up cautiously. "What kind of issues?"

"Underworld issues. Crime issues. City issues." Director Piggot half-turned and gestured at the polarised window behind her. "When I stepped into this position ten years ago, cape gangs were on the rise, and general crime with them. It wasn't entirely a failing of the city; outside pressures were mounting, and it was bad everywhere. However, in the interim, I've made progress. The Empire Eighty-Eight, even before your encounters with them, were at the lowest ebb of membership they'd been for my entire tenure. Their non-cape membership is down, as is that of the ABB."

Blockade spoke for the first time. "But they still exist, and so did the Merchants and ABB until we took them down."

"This is true. They do." The Director nodded to acknowledge the point. "However, I have been working to starve them of willing recruits, hitting their stash houses, and in general making it harder to turn an easy profit. And each time the gangs—well, in this case, the Empire—have tried to push back, I've gotten assistance from out of town. The Triumvirate are very useful in that regard."

Firebird's expression and tone were that of enlightenment. "You're throttling crime in Brockton Bay. Making it so that cape villains can't make a dishonest living here."

Director Piggot's expression became a very brief smile, showing more teeth than the average. "Precisely."

"But where do we come into this?" asked Monochrome. "We just captured a bunch of villains. Doesn't that help you out?"

"As I have mentioned, the act itself was laudable." The Director tilted her head toward them. "But in the bigger picture, especially if you went after other high-profile villains, it could end up being disruptive. I've been boiling the frog, making it more and more difficult by degrees, so that one day they look around and it's no longer viable to be a villain in my city. You just shook everything up, and villains who are shaken up are unpredictable."

"But in the meantime with your softly-softly approach, people are still suffering from crime," Blockade protested. "Why shouldn't we just capture all the villains we can?"

"There are two very good reasons." Director Piggot held up two fingers. "First, there is a shared illusion which I am carefully fostering, that the cape scene in this city is not unlike a game of 'cops and robbers'. There are rules, or so they think. A cape is captured, he goes away, breaks out of holding, and ends up back on the streets. But he also doesn't go after the civilian identities of heroes, and we don't do the same with villains. Everyone plays nice with each other, which also means that civilians on the street are safer overall."

"They weren't being very safe with that fight," Monochrome observed.

"No, you're right. They were pushing too hard. Note that we will not be letting them get broken out of holding. All three are Birdcage bound." The Director's expression was one of harsh satisfaction. "However, with three major villains captured all at once, the others may well be wondering if the 'rules' are still in effect. And some may just decide to drop them altogether."

"Understood," said Firebird. "So, what's the second reason?"

Director Piggot leaned back in her chair. "Tell me something: have you ever heard of the Boston Games?"

Again, the three girls shared a look of mutual incomprehension. Monochrome spoke for all three. "I haven't, and don't think they have either."

"Not totally surprising. It was a few years ago, and only really got a lot of attention in cape and cape-adjacent circles." The Director steepled her fingers before her. "The heroes and PRT in Boston managed to capture or chase away essentially all cape villains, leaving a vacuum behind. Other villains came in to take their places almost immediately, and there was a lot of upheaval. People got hurt. People died. I don't want that happening in my city."

Firebird nodded. "Which is what's going to happen if we clear them out before they're ready to go themselves."

"Correct." Director Piggot gave her an approving nod. "If the last villains to leave or get captured do so because the underworld here is no longer receptive to supervillain gangs, I will have succeeded. If I try to rush matters, I'll just be sending out an invitation to every villain without a city to come on in, the water's fine. I don't want that happening."

"And so, you're telling us that you'd like us to do … what? Back off a little?" Monochrome tilted her head. "Not to push so hard?"

"Essentially, yes." The Director narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're not Protectorate, or even PRT affiliated, unless you choose to apply for either status. As such, I can't give you orders. However, I am perfectly allowed to make suggestions. Going after civilian crime is good. Stopping cape crime is also good; if they happen to get away, the inference will be that you're now playing by the 'rules'."

"But we shouldn't be capturing them?" Firebird's lips pressed together tightly. "I'm not sure I like the idea of just letting them escape."

"Oh, capture them by all means, if they're asking for it." Director Piggot gave a—for her—expansive wave of her hand. "Some, we'll hold on to. The harmless ones, we won't be so careful with. But not all of them will get away. As Blockade said: softly, softly."

"And like I said, people are still getting hurt while you're playing patty-cake." Blockade didn't sound angry, but she was definitely determined to get her point across.

"They would be getting hurt regardless," the Director reminded her. "If I weren't doing this the way I am, more people would be getting hurt and dying. Crime stats are the lowest they've been in years. It's working. We just need to avoid pushing too hard and upsetting the whole applecart at this juncture." She looked at the three teen heroes. "Do you understand now?"

Slowly, Monochrome nodded. "I think I do, yeah." She stood up. "Thanks for letting us know what's going on. We'll be in touch."

Firebird and Blockade also stood. "I am going to keep catching villains, just so you know," Blockade advised the Director.

"I would expect nothing less. Good day to you."

"I'll walk you to the roof," Armsmaster offered. Together, the four of them walked out.

<><>

Director Emily Piggot, PRT

Emily leaned back in her chair after the door closed.

That went about as well as I'd hoped, she mused. I wonder which way they'll jump. Blockade seems very task-oriented, which doesn't surprise me.

Time, she figured, would tell.

Part 27