by wildbow
I should have been terrified, my hands cramping, unable to see or hear, knowing I could tumble off at any second, but I was elated. Even when Angelica crashed into something hard enough to nearly knock us off, it didn’t kill my enthusiasm. I hooted, hollered and cheered our victory, barely hearing the noise myself as the darkness absorbed it.
We’d done it. I’d done it. We’d escaped without killing anyone. The only ones who’d really been hurt at all had been the Wards, Glory Girl and Panacea, and that would be fixed when Panacea came to, for sure. Any property damage had largely been the fault of the Wards and Glory Girl. I’d maybe made some enemies, I’d scared some innocent people, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that could’ve been avoided. In short, things couldn’t have gone better.
Okay, they could have gone a lot better, but the way they ended up? Pretty damn good, all in all.
Aegis would have climbed out of the rubble by now, flown up for a bird’s eye view. If Grue was doing what we’d planned, he was filling every street and side street we passed with darkness. Aegis couldn’t see where or if we doubled back or what streets we took, so he could only identify our location by the places where fresh darkness appeared. If he tried to close in to get us, though, we’d be gone by the time he reached us. All he could do was follow our general location.
Just when I thought I might not be able to hold on any longer, we pulled to a stop. Tattletale and I slipped off of Angelica. Someone, probably Grue, pushed a backpack into my arms. Even working in total darkness, I managed to change into the set of civilian clothes we’d hidden away before we headed to the bank. I was handed an umbrella and gratefully unfolded it with my stiff hands.
It was tense, waiting in the darkness, with only the feeling of the rain on the umbrella to give me a sense of the world beyond myself and of time passing.
It was a long time before the world came into view again. Grue said his darkness faded after twenty minutes or so, but it felt like far longer than that. As the darkness cleared away, I saw Lisa sitting on the steps at the front of a shoe store, holding a leash in one hand and a paper shopping bag in the other. Angelica, as normal as she ever was, was on the other end of the leash, sitting patiently. All around us were shoppers and pedestrians, each with their umbrellas and raincoats, looking around with scared expressions and wide eyes. The sounds were refreshing after the silence of the darkness—falling rain and the murmur of conversation.
Lisa stood, and winked at me as she tugged on the leash to get Angelica following at her side. We joined the crowd of disoriented shoppers.
Assuming things went according to plan, Alec would be dropped off next, without a dog, and he’d change into civilian clothes the same way we had. Bitch, Brian and the two dogs would make the final stop at a storage locker near the Docks. Inside, they would change into their civies, relax for a few hours inside, and leave the money there for the boss to pick up. After taking a long enough break that the heroes would have abandoned pursuit, they would make their way back much as we were.
“Everyone came out of this unscathed?” I asked Tattletale in a low voice. I was sharing my umbrella with her, so speaking together in a kind of huddle wasn’t strange looking.
“No injuries or deaths for us, for the heroes or for the bystanders,” she confirmed.
“Then it’s a good day,” I said.
“A very good day,” she agreed.
Arm in arm, we walked leisurely through downtown. Like everyone else, we craned our heads to follow the police cars and PRT vans that were rushing to the scene of the crime with sirens wailing. Two girls who just finished their shopping, walking their dog.
Interlude 3
The building housing the local Parahuman Response Team division didn’t really stand out. The exterior was all windows, reflective enough to mirror the mottled dark gray of the sky overhead. Only a shield logo bearing the letters ‘P.R.T.’ marked it apart from the other buildings of downtown Brockton Bay.
Those entering the lobby would find a strange juxtaposition at work. On the one hand, you could see the various employees in suits, hurrying in and out of the building, talking in groups. A team of four PRT officers was on standby, each stationed at a different area of the lobby, outfitted in the best equipment money could buy. All had chain mesh and kevlar vests, helmets that covered their faces, and firearms. The equipment differed, however, as two of them had grenade launchers hanging from straps on their shoulders with bandoliers of various specialty ammunition across their chests, including a fire extinguishing grenade, an EMP round and various stun grenades. The other two had what appeared at first glance to be flame throwers; were they to pull the triggers, they would eject a thick, frothing spray of foam, enough to contain all but the strongest and fastest villains.
In stark contrast to this, there was the gift shop that would be thick with youths when school ended, sporting a selection of action figures, posters, video games and clothing. Four-foot tall pictures of the various Protectorate and Wards team members were placed at regular intervals around the lobby, each backed by bright colors.
There was a cheery tour guide waiting patiently by the front desk, smiling handsomely at anybody who happened to glance his way. On schedule, he would introduce tourists and children to the PRT offices, the armory, the training area and the parking lot with the parahuman containment vans, showing them what it took to manage the local heroes. For those willing to pay for the premium tour, wait up to two hours and suffer a PRT squad escort, there would be an additional stop on the tour—a glimpse of the Wards’ Headquarters.
As a beleaguered team of young heroes staggered into the lobby, however, there was no tour, only a heavyset woman with a bob. She wore a navy blue suit jacket and skirt, and waited with a pair of stern looking men in suits just behind her. Wordlessly, she led them through a door behind the front desk and into a meeting room.
“Director Piggot. Ma’am,” Aegis greeted her, his voice strained. His costume was in shreds, and was more crimson with his own blood than it was its original white. It was bad enough his civilian identity might have been revealed, if it weren’t for the matted blood and the chunks of meat that had been taken out of him, some of the wounds nearly a foot across.
“Good god, Aegis,” her eyebrows raised a fraction, “You look like hell. What’s wrong with your voice?”
“Punctured lung, ma’am,” Aegis rasped. “I think there’s a hole in my front and back.” As if to demonstrate, he stuck his fingers into his chest cavity.
Director Piggot didn’t look away, but one of the men standing behind her looked a touch green around the gills, “I can take you at your word. You don’t need to stick your arm all the way through your chest to demonstrate.”
Aegis grinned and removed his hand from his chest.
Her expression hardened, “I wouldn’t be smiling right now.”
Aegis’s grin fell. He glanced over his shoulder at his teammates. Gallant, Kid Win, Vista, Browbeat and Clockblocker were all wearing suitably somber expressions.
“This was a fiasco,” she told them.
“Yes ma’am. We lost,” Gallant admitted.
“You lost, yes. That’s the least of it. You also caused horrific amounts of property damage. I’m afraid any and all destruction caused by New Wave’s golden child is also your responsibility, since you invited her along. Without my say-so.”
“I invited her,” Gallant spoke up, “I’ll take the blame, and you can take the costs for the property damage out of my trust.”
Director Piggot offered him a thin and utterly humorless smile, “Living up to your name, I see? Yes, I’m sure that’s the best way to get the message across. Your teammates and I know who you are under the mask. Of everyone here, myself included, you’re the one most able to handle a fine of tens of thousands of dollars.”
“I won’t deny it, ma’am,” Gallant choked out the words.
“I’m afraid I’m a believer in punishment, when punishment is due. Taking money from so
meone with money to spare is not going to mean anything. All of you will share the fees between you. Since I can’t touch the trust funds the PRT established for you, I’ll have to settle for docking your pay. Maybe next time, the rest of you can talk Gallant out of inviting his girlfriend along.”
The protests overlapped. “It was her sister in the bank! She would have gone in anyways!” “I start college next fall!”
Director Piggot simply weathered the arguments and complaints. A more cynical person might even suggest she enjoyed hearing them. When a minute or two passed and it was clear she wasn’t going to reply or get dragged into the arguments, the young heroes fell into a sullen silence. She cleared her throat and spoke again.
“Kid Win. I’m very interested to hear about this weapon you deployed on the battlefield.”
“My Alternator Cannon?” Kid Win asked, cringing just a bit.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” Piggot smiled. “The paperwork gets to be a bit much sometimes. Maybe you know where to find the documentation from our military and science teams, for this Alternator Cannon?”
“Christ, Kid,” Aegis groaned under his breath, with his ruined voice.
Kid Win looked more upset about Aegis’s reaction than anything else, “I, uh. I didn’t get it officially cleared, yet. I just thought it would be better to use the cannon and do what I could to stop the robbery.”
“That’s where you’d be wrong,” Piggot told him, “Fact of the matter is, the money that was taken from the bank falls very low on my priority list. You might even go so far as to suggest I don’t care about it.”
“Director—” Aegis started. He didn’t get to finish.
“What I care about is the public perception of capes. I care about ensuring that we get enough funding to keep you Wards, the Protectorate and the PRT squads paid and equipped. Without that, everything I’ve worked to build falls apart.”
“What are you going to do?” Kid Win asked her.
“The cannon gets dismantled, first off.”
“No!” Aegis and Kid Win spoke at the same time. Director Piggot looked briefly surprised at the defiance.
“I started on the Alternator Cannon so I’d have something to bring out in case of a Class A threat,” Kid Win said, “Getting rid of it would be such a waste. I don’t care if I never get to use it again. Give it to your PRT squad. I’ll teach someone how it works. You can mount it on one of your trucks or something.”
Director Piggot frowned, “The amount of time and money that would require, for an event that might never occur… no. I suppose you can keep the cannon.”
Kid Win practically sagged with relief.
“But whatever the power source is, you’re removing it, and I’m keeping it under lock and key. If a Class A threat does come into play, I’ll hand it over to you. And the cannon still goes through the standard review process for all tinker-created material. If it doesn’t pass the review, if you were putting people and property at undue risk with what you pulled today, I’m afraid you could face a substantial fine or jail time.”
Kid Win paled.
“Director!” Aegis grunted out the word, taking a step forward.
“Be quiet, Aegis,” Piggot snapped. “Your trying to speak with a punctured lung physically pains me, and as much as I admire standing up for your team, your one lungful of breath is wasted here.”
Kid Win turned to Aegis and offered a small apologetic smile.
“Kid Win, you’re coming with us for a disciplinary review. Everyone else is dismissed. The tour group is going to be coming by your quarters in an hour, and there’s likely to be more than a few reporters peering in the window. Try to clean yourselves up for the pictures that are undoubtedly going to appear in tomorrow’s papers. Please.”
The two men in suits marched a miserable Kid Win out the door after Director Piggot. Kid Win shot a worried look at his team before he was taken out of sight.
“We debrief,” Aegis grunted. “Gallant or Clockblocker handles it. You two decide.”
The team trudged out of the meeting room and made their way to their reserved elevator. It was tinker-designed to impress the tourists as well as be far more secure. Interlocking sections of metal unfolded and slid apart as they approached, then closed behind them. The ride down was so smooth that it was nearly impossible to tell the elevator was moving.
They exited into a long corridor of chrome steel.
“I’m going to have nightmares,” Clockblocker groaned, as he tenderly touched the welts around his nose and mouth, “Nightmares with lots and lots of spiders.”
At the far end of the corridor, they came to a security terminal. Aegis pointed at Clockblocker.
“Don’t you usually do it?”
“Retina maybe detached,” Aegis admitted in his halting voice, “Don’t want to fail scan.”
Clockblocker nodded hesitantly, then leaned forward to let the terminal scan his eyes. Steel doors clicked, then whisked open with a barely audible whirr, letting the young heroes and heroine make their way into the main area of their headquarters.
The room was roughly dome-shaped, but there were sections of wall that were able to be dismantled and rearranged on the fly. Some had been set up to give the various team members their individual quarters, while others framed the doorways that led into the showers, the filing room and their press/meeting room. A series of computers and large monitors were networked at one side of the room, surrounded by a half-dozen chairs. One of the monitors was displaying a countdown to the next tourist group, while others were showing camera images of key locations in the city. The Central Bank was one of them, a dark image punctuated by the red and blue of police sirens.
“Shadow Stalker is AWOL?” Gallant asked.
“Couldn’t make it in time,” Aegis grunted. “Told her to stay put.”
“She’s going to hate that. Doesn’t she have this huge hate-on for Grue?” Clockblocker asked.
“Part of the reason,” Aegis grunted out the words, “I told her to stay. Don’t need that. I’m going to shower. Patch myself up. You guys debrief.”
“Sure thing, Chief,” Clockblocker saluted. “Take care of yourself.”
“Fucking mutant dogs,” Aegis muttered, as he made his way to the bathroom. He was stripped out of the top half of his tattered costume before he was through the door.
“Vista? Can you go grab the whiteboard? Grab two?” Gallant turned to their junior member. Vista almost skipped in her rush to follow the order.
“What’s going to happen to Kid?” Browbeat spoke up for the first time, “I don’t know how all this goes. Is it serious?”
Gallant considered for a moment, “Could be, but my gut tells me Piggy just wants to scare him. He needs to stop testing the limits with the people in charge, or he’s going to get in real trouble at some point.”
“So, not exactly the best start to your new career, huh?” Clockblocker turned to Browbeat.
“Fuck, I wouldn’t mind so much if I knew what happened,” Browbeat stretched, and his muscles began to dwindle in size, “At least then I could figure out what to do better next time. All I know is that I was suddenly blind and deaf, and when I tried to move, everything bent the wrong way. Then I think I got tasered.”
Vista returned, dragging a pair of whiteboards on wheeled frames behind her.
“Hold that thought,” Gallant told their newest member, “Hey Clock, you don’t mind if I take point?”
Clockblocker was still using his fingertips to explore the raised bumps on his face, “Go for it. I’m going to procrastinate as long as I can on the leadership thing.”
“You’re next oldest, after Carlos. It’s only going to be what, three or four months, before you’re the senior member?”
“And I’ll hold that position for not even the rest of the summer before I graduate and pass the mantle to you,” Clockblocker smiled self deprecatingly, “No worries. Take charge.”
Gallant took off his helmet and held it in one han
d, running his fingers through his sweat-damp blond hair. He smiled winningly at Vista as she positioned the whiteboards so everyone could see them, “Thank you.”
Gallant didn’t need to use his power to get an emotional response from the thirteen year old heroine. She turned a bright pink. There could be no doubt for anyone present that she had a major crush on her senior teammate.
“Okay guys,” Gallant said, “before we get started, I think it’s important to make some things clear. First off, most importantly, today was not a failure. I’d even say that today was a win for the good guys, and we start establishing that here and now.”
He took a second to gauge his audience’s disbelieving reactions, then smiled.
“The Undersiders. They’ve flown under the radar so far, but more recently, they’ve started pulling higher profile jobs. They hit the Ruby Dreams casino five weeks ago, and now they just robbed the biggest bank in Brockton Bay. This time we were lucky enough to get in their way. That means we finally have intel on their group.”
He turned to the whiteboard and wrote the names of their opponents. Grue, Tattletale and Hellhound went on the first board, with lines separating the board into three columns. He wrote Regent on the second board, drew a line and then hesitated at the fifth and last column. “Did he name himself? The guy with the bugs?”
“Girl,” Clockblocker corrected him, “I was talking to the hostages after the Undersiders made their getaway. He said he was afraid to move because she was going to make it bite him. It took me a bit to realize exactly what he meant. Poor fella was in shock.”
“But we don’t know what she called herself?”
Nobody had any answer to that.
“Then we need to agree on a name for her, or the paperwork’s going to be inconsistent. Suggestions for a name for the bug girl?”
“Maggot? Worm?” Browbeat offered, “Stick her with a crappy name?”
“We don’t want to do that,” Clockblocker sighed. “Maybe if we’d won, we could get away with it, but it doesn’t look so good if the press reports that we got our asses kicked by someone called maggot.”
