Earning Her Stripes Pt 27 (Patreon)

Idiot's Gambit

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

Victor

The timing could not have been much better. They'd finished their meals and drinks (coffee for him, tea for her) and had just paid when his phone went off again. Othala still looked less than impressed, but only slightly so, as he took it out and answered it on the way out the door.

"Speak," he ordered.

"They just took off from the PRT building. Heading north, maybe north-north-east. We're trying to keep up but it's not easy." In the background, he could hear the sound of a car engine revving.

"Okay, keep at it. Call me back if anything changes. We'll be there soon." He ended the call and handed the phone to Othala. "Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" she asked as they got in the car. "And why am I holding your phone?"

"To catch up, if possible," he said grimly, fastening his seatbelt. "Buckle up. We might be taking corners faster than normal."

Her eyes widened, and she didn't argue as she grabbed for her own seatbelt. She'd been in the car when he'd had to drive at speed before. Barely had her latch engaged than he had the car in gear and was peeling out of the parking lot.

He drew on every iota of his impressive driving capability, weaving through traffic as though it wasn't there, and avoiding problem traffic areas as he headed north.

<><>

Monochrome

Taylor didn't think she would ever not enjoy the sensation of flight. Okay, so it wasn't her doing the flying, but even hitching a ride on a multi-ton power-suit as it roared through the sky was a lot of fun. The best bit was, she had no fear of falling to her death from this height. Since she'd gotten her powers, all heights were the same to her.

Looking down at the houses they were passing over, she checked the landmarks then slapped the shoulder of Madison's power-suit to alert her that they were nearly over her house. The suit raised one arm in a thumb's-up gesture, probably because Madison also knew they were in the right place. Reaching over, Taylor tapped Emma on the shoulder.

Emma didn't look thrilled as she clasped Taylor's forearm, but they all knew it was the best way to pull a dismount in the daytime without being positively ID'd. If Madison landed in Taylor's back yard, or Emma's for that matter, it would take far too long and give anyone with the slightest amount of interest the chance to pinpoint exactly which house it was. The Blockade armour was many things, but subtle it was not, especially while in flight.

As they were about to pass over the house, Taylor jumped off the back of the suit, pulling Emma into a close embrace. She wasn't sure how high up they were, but the houses looked remarkably tiny. Then she extended her durability field over her teammate, turning the bright colours into shades of grey. Waiting until she knew she was going to land in her own back yard—tiny steering-fins extruding from her 'costume' made sure of that— she then pulled a stunt that only her powers could manage.

Gravity and inertia were only suggestions when she was fully encased, and while she normally used that to reduce the effects of either one, that didn't have to be the case. This time around, she accelerated them both downward at ten times normal gravity for about two and a half seconds, then decelerated just as fast. The entire descent—two thousand feet—was over in five seconds; Emma finished her involuntary yelp only after Taylor was standing on the ground in her own back yard.

Setting Emma down onto her feet, Taylor let the black-and-white costume vanish to reveal casual clothes underneath. "Come on, let's get inside."

Emma complied, though she shook her head once the back door closed behind her. "I will never get used to that. We went from 'up there' to 'down here' faster than I would've thought possible."

"That was the general idea." Taylor went to the fridge and opened it. "If someone's scanning the skies looking for cape footage, we just want to be a blur on it. Juice?"

"Yeah, thanks." Emma went through into the living room, to where her clothing had been laid out on the sofa. As Taylor located two glasses and poured juice into them, she knew Emma was removing her helmet and good-steel accoutrements and pulling her clothing on over the bodysuit.

"So, what do you think about what Piggot said?" Taylor put the juice away and carried the glasses through into the living room. "About the whole cops and robbers thing, I mean."

"There's two ways to look at it," Emma said as she accepted a glass from Taylor. "One, it's pure laziness and excusing her inaction. Two, it's sheer genius and it keeps casualties to a minimum."

"And which is it, do you think?" Taylor settled onto the sofa.

Since Emma had gotten her powers, she'd ended up with a very … balanced view of the world. She always looked at both sides before making her final judgement call, even if she disagreed strenuously with one or the other. While this could be irritating at times, Taylor had found it quite worthwhile to ask for her opinion on matters like this.

"I tend to favour the second hypothesis." Emma also had a habit of using big words when presenting her judgements. "The Triumvirate have come to town recently, and they took away a couple of the more troublesome Empire capes when they left. All the evidence suggests that Director Piggot has been gradually tightening the screws, making the city less and less hospitable to asshole capes."

"And meanwhile, in the background, she's been doing other things to improve the city," Taylor suggested. "Like getting Alexandria to move that ship at the mouth of Lord's Port."

"Exactly." Emma sat down next to Taylor. "Only, it's not happening all at once, so as to give Director Piggot time to get the cape crime down to a manageable level before the port goes back into full operation. The last thing she wants is a strong cape gang going into the smuggling business with a fully operational harbour at their disposal."

"Ugh." Taylor rolled her eyes. "They were bad enough without regular shipping to draw them in. One of the reasons Dad and the others managed to hold them off for so long was that there's been only minimal profits to be had from having their hooks in the Association. As soon as the Port kicks into gear again, that's going to change in a big way."

"Yeah, I remember him talking about that sometimes." Emma finished off her juice. "I want to thank you again for giving me and Madison a chance to make things right."

Taylor nodded. "Well, I haven't regretted it yet, and I'm actually pretty pleased with the results so far." She chuckled and gestured toward the front door. "And the lawn and garden bed have never looked better."

Emma grinned in return. "We did do a pretty rockin' job, didn't we? So, what's your plans from here on in? How did you want to play it with the Empire?"

It was a valid question. "Well, I think I need to consult with both my teammates before reaching a decision on that one. Because I know Madison has opinions."

The grin turned into a chuckle. "You caught that, did you?"

"I'm pretty sure they caught that in Boston."

<><>

Coil

There were exactly three known ways of getting into the secure holding area under the PRT building where Shadow Stalker was being held. The first was to be escorted there in custody, the second was to fight past all the security measures with overwhelming force … and the third was to have official authority to walk in. Of the three ways, Thomas preferred the third one.

He could've added a fourth way to the official list—sneaking in using powers—but he preferred not to tip his hand unnecessarily. At this point in time, he was using what was technically a fifth method—faking his clearance—though it didn't guarantee him getting out again. Not that this mattered to him, because once he'd gotten what he wanted, he would never have been there.

He'd done his not inconsiderable best to get actual permission to see Shadow Stalker, but the security around the girl was as close to airtight as the cells themselves were. Piggot had heard out his reasoning about how Shadow Stalker could possibly help with inconsistencies in some cold cases he was reviewing, but had decreed that he could submit queries to be conveyed to her. The smaller the circle of people who came into contact with her, the better. It wasn't just him, he'd been told. Nobody who wasn't already connected with the case was getting in to see her.

Most men would've given up at this point. But Thomas Calvert was not most men. He returned to his office and started working innocuously on minutiae such as squad rosters, requisition forms and equipment damage reports. At the same time, in a throwaway timeline, he was busy delving into the computer system, making use of the few backdoors he still had access to.

Even then, he had to burn all his online assets to get to the point where he could assign himself clearance to see Shadow Stalker. The permission itself was transitory; it would need to be reviewed and approved by Piggot to continue, and he knew damn well that was never going to happen. So, he had to get down there now if he wanted the chance to find out what the girl knew before his clearance crossed Piggot's desk and was summarily revoked.

In the one timeline, he stayed at his desk; in the other, he stood up and strode out into the corridor. Armed with the freshly printed (and entirely bogus) clearance form, including the notation that he'd signed the accompanying NDA (it wouldn't matter to him if he had or not), he headed for the elevator that would take him down to the sub-basement levels.

On the ride down, he composed himself. He wouldn't have the luxury of being able to tailor his approach to whoever he spoke to, trading it out for the certain knowledge that he wouldn't be caught doing this, no matter how badly he screwed it up. But he didn't want to screw it up, because Shadow Stalker would be transferred out at some point in the future (another bit of information Piggot was keeping damned close to her chest) and every failed attempt used up valuable time he could be doing something (anything) else with.

The interleaving doors opened on the bottom sub-basement level, and he stepped out into the echoing concrete corridor. Blast doors were positioned at intervals along it, with one poised to drop down in front of the elevator itself. Hit one alarm button, and getting out would become insanely harder.

Entirely unconcerned about the weight of security all around him, and the multiple cameras scrutinising his every move, he marched along the corridor to the security checkpoint leading to the area where Shadow Stalker was incarcerated. The Empire Eighty-Eight and ABB prisoners were also in high-security lockdown, but they were in a different section to Stalker. For her sins, she got to languish in what was effectively solitary confinement.

Thomas didn't judge her for her actions; he'd done much worse in his time. What he disapproved of was her sheer bloody-minded sloppiness. With her capabilities, she could've been so much smarter and more effective about carrying out her aims. It didn't help that said aims were predicated around a stupid and short-sighted worldview. If he'd pursued murderous vengeance against every last person who'd pissed him off, he would've had zero time for anyone else. He preferred to outmanoeuvre them and leave them in his dust.

"Commander Calvert, here to question Shadow Stalker," he reported, halting at the checkpoint and holding up the forged papers.

"Going to need to see your authorisation, Commander," the guard said via a speaker. "Director's orders. Minimum contact." As he spoke, a slot motored open in the front of the checkpoint.

"Understood." He slid the papers into the slot, pulling his fingers back before the cover closed again. "Has she been troublesome?"

"Just noisy." There was a pause, and he could see the guard perusing his documentation. The man seemed to be taking far too long about it, but he couldn't be seen to be impatient. At best, it would inspire the guard to take even more time; at worst, it would raise suspicions. Right now, he didn't need suspicions.

'Noisy' sounded good to him. It meant Shadow Stalker hadn't gone sulky and silent. He wanted her willing to talk, even if that 'talking' was actually her yelling at him. All he truly needed was to learn the names of the members of the Real Thing before Piggot discovered his bogus clearance to see the girl. You can try to suppress the information, but I'll always find it out.

The door buzzed, then clicked open. "Everything looks in order, Commander. Go on in. You have thirty minutes."

He had less time than that, he knew; the moment Piggot got notification of his entry to the secure area, as per the clearance rules she'd set up, there would be the equivalent of a nuclear explosion in her office. The blast radius would reach him sooner rather than later, so he had to get answers now. So, from the moment he stepped through the door, he moved at his best faux-nonchalant pace toward Stalker's cell.

<><>

Victor

It took more time than he liked, but he eventually pulled onto the side of the road behind the three chase cars that had gotten this far. Affixing a domino mask to his face, he got out of the car and went over to where his men were clustered around a map laid out on the hood of the first car. "Report."

"We lost 'em somewhere around here." Burkhalt, a steady and reliable member of the Empire, tapped the map with his finger. "I was watching through the binocs and thought I saw Blockade drop something, but it went out of sight before I could get a fix on it. Then he did a long turn and dropped out of sight. We converged on the area but didn't see anything."

"What about that park?" It was close to where they were on the map. "If I had to choose a landing spot for a power-suit that big, that's what I'd pick. Not my own back yard."

Burkhalt nodded. "Yes, sir. We went there first. No men, no power armour. Just a few moms and kids messing around. They said they'd heard the noise but hadn't seen anything."

"Eight-foot-tall power armour doesn't just vanish into thin air." While this was true, it was also evident that something had happened.

"No, sir, it doesn't." There wasn't much else for Burkhalt to say.

"Well, then. Keep an eye out. Now we know what area they live in. It's merely a matter of time."

"Roger that, sir." Burkhalt nodded and started to fold up the map again.

"Well?" asked Othala as he got back into the car.

"We have a general area, but that's it." He grimaced. "For someone piloting a multi-ton battlesuit, Blockade is remarkably elusive."

She put her hand on his arm. "You'll get them. You're the smartest man I know."

He started the car. "Let's hope Kaiser feels the same way."

<><>

Taylor

Emma's phone rang just as Taylor was locking the front door. She pulled it out and answered it. "Hi, Mads. Yeah, Taylor's right here. Want me to give the phone to her?"

Taylor glanced around; nobody was with in earshot, so she took the phone and put it on speaker. "We're both listening. What's up?"

"Someone's trying to get a line on us." Madison didn't sound overly worried, but she'd been markedly less timid ever since she got powers. "I was just walking out of the park where I leave the suit when a bunch of guys came up and started looking around. One of them asked me if I'd seen a battlesuit fly overhead. I said I'd heard it, but I hadn't seen anything."

A chill traced its way down Taylor's spine. "Shit. Which one of the gangs do you think it is?" She knew it couldn't be the PRT, because they already knew.

"Well, the main suspect has to be the Empire," Emma said at once. "Or this other guy called Coil, supposedly some kind of criminal mastermind, but he's basically a B-rank player. I don't even know what his costume looks like."

"Did you clash with him before Sophia went off the rails?" asked Taylor. "Because I've never heard of him either."

"No. Just the Merchants and the Empire. What are we going to do about this?"

Taylor frowned. "Well, I was going to run the idea past you guys of backing off from the Empire a bit and maybe just doing some PR patrols, but if they're actively coming after us, we need to deal with that threat." Sophia's attempt to kill her father was still fresh in her memory, and she never wanted to go through that again.

"Also, if they find out how Sophia specifically targeted your dad and my parents, they might start wondering why." Emma was definitely thinking along the same lines.

"So, my whole thing of not backing off was actually the right course of action all along?" Madison wasn't quite gloating, but she was treading a very narrow line.

Emma pursed her lips. "Well, in fairness, we technically provoked them into this by taking in a whole bunch of their members at once. If they were used to Director Piggot's 'cops and robbers' concept, I can see why they'd feel threatened."

"They should feel threatened. They're criminals. Some of them are murderers. I'm not exactly feeling any sympathy for them."

Taylor intervened before the incipient argument could really get started. "Okay, so we're agreed that the Empire is a threat that needs to be addressed. The first thing we're going to do is alert Director Piggot to what they're up to, and give her a heads-up about our intentions. And the second thing … is do something about it."

Emma nodded, a satisfied look on her face. Madison was a little more definitive than that. "Fuck, yes. Let's make those Nazi assholes sorry they ever burned a cross."

"They're the Empire Eighty-Eight," Emma pointed out reasonably. "Not the Ku Klux Klan. They're still the bad guys, but I'm pretty sure they don't actually burn crosses. Though I could be wrong."

"They're racist assholes either way. And Nazis, which makes it even worse. We going out tonight?"

Taylor considered the question. "I'd say we are, yeah."

"Good."

<><>

Coil

"Hello, Shadow Stalker." Thomas approached the cell with a confident stride.

The girl in prison orange, sitting with her feet up on the bench, looked up at him sourly. "Who are you supposed to be, asshole? The good cop, just because they managed to dig up a black guy? Fuck off."

Hmm. Tough audience. "No, I'm not the 'good cop'. Or the bad cop, either. I'm not here about your case at all. I was hoping you could enlighten me about something."

She sneered at him. All told, it was a pretty good sneer. "What, so you can add another bogus charge to my sheet? This whole thing's a bullshit put-up job from beginning to end, and everyone knows it. They were just jealous so they forced me out of the team."

This was it. He was so close. "Who did, Shadow Stalker? Who pushed you out of the team? What were they jealous about?"

Even as she opened her mouth to tell him, a calculating look crossed her face. "What's it worth to you? And how come you don't know, anyway? Piggot for damn sure knows, and most everyone else who comes down here to laugh at me. So how come you don't?"

He thought fast. She was actually smarter than he'd given her credit for, to pick up on that little nuance. "No, you're right. I'm being kept out of the loop. Personally, I think the Real Thing is overreaching way too far and they need to be reined in. Director Piggot considers them beyond reproach, but they're dangerous. Don't you think?"

This time she laughed out loud, a harsh and bitter sound. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Piggy hates every cape she's ever known! What the fuck are you really here for?"

The alarm that blared through the secure cell block made him jump. He knew exactly what it was about. Piggot had been informed he was down here. "I just need their names," he said urgently. "Firebird, Blockade, and Monochrome. Who are they?"

Her jaw took on a stubborn set. "Get me out of here and I'll tell you."

"Tell me and I'll get you out of there!" He was lying, of course. The clearance he'd managed to get didn't include opening the cell for her.

A siren started up, overlaying the alarm bell. Red lights flashed along the length of the corridor.

"Okay, fine!" She stood up from the bench and came over to the polycarbonate panel that made up the door to her cell. On one wrist was a metal cuff that Thomas hadn't seen before. "Firebird's name is—"

As Thomas leaned close to listen over the blaring siren and clanging bell, confoam sprayers activated and covered him with globby yellow foam, cutting off Shadow Stalker's words. "What?" he yelled. "What?"

But he couldn't hear a thing, apart from the dull, distant sound of the alarm bell and the siren.

Muttering a curse, he dropped that timeline.

Okay, so a slightly different approach is required.

Unfortunately, it was getting close to the time he was due to leave for the day, so he wouldn't be able to stay back without at least raising eyebrows.

I'll try again tomorrow. Dammit.

<><>

■

PRIVATE MESSAGE

To: DirectorPiggot

From: Monochrome

Subject: The Empire is Playing Stupid Games

Hi, Director.

This is just to let you know that the Empire Eighty-Eight tried to trail us home from our meeting with you. They got within about one minute of outing Blockade.

I was going to back off a little, but this is far too dangerous to let slide. We need to hit them hard enough that their Nazi great-grandparents feel it.

I know we might have started it by being a little enthusiastic about smacking their capes around and capturing them, but going after our civvy identities is not cool. So we're taking them down hard before they start kidnapping or killing our friends and relatives. Because you know that's where they'll go.

PS: the talk this afternoon was good. Thanks for listening to our side of things.

- Monochrome

■

<><>

Deputy Director Renick

PRT Building ENE

Paul heard the cursing before he opened the connecting door. Emily was normally moderate in her speech, but her time as a field officer in the PRT had given her an exceptionally broad vocabulary. He paused and knocked, to give her warning that he was there.

The swearing stopped, and he could almost hear her taking a deep breath and composing herself. "Come in," she called.

"Sorry to bother you," Paul said as he brought a file with him. "I just needed your signature on something. Is there a problem?"

"Give," Emily said bluntly and pulled out her pen. Taking the file from him, she scrawled her signature, then handed it back. "Yes, there's a goddamn problem. Kaiser's playing fuck-fuck games, and the Real Thing caught him at it. So that whole chat I had with them earlier, about moderating their approach? Out the fucking window, because Kaiser can't stand losing so many people to a three-person team."

Paul raised a finger. "Uh, I understand the term, but …"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Sorry. He had men try to follow them home after the meeting. One of them nearly caught Blockade out. So now the Real Thing is actively gunning for the Empire."

"And with their track record …" Paul shook his head. "I don't think I'd be betting on Kaiser."

"I don't want to be betting on anyone." Emily's expression was intensely unhappy. "Betting means gambling, and I prefer a sure thing. And they were on board with it, too. Fucking capes!" She slammed her fist down on her desk.

Paul wasn't sure if she was referring to the Empire Eighty-Eight, the Real Thing, or both groups, and he didn't want to ask.

Either way, he knew, things were about to heat up rather than cool down.

Oh, joy.

Part 28