Kapitel 2441: 24
Chapter 24: Interlude 3-b: Pathos Dichonoia (Lament)
Trust 3.b: Pathos Dichonoia (Lamentation)
It was a tired, sore, and beaten Wards who dragged themselves into their base inside the PRT Headquarters. They were all in varying states of "tired," "defeated," and "wounded," none more so than their leader, Aegis, who had come off the battle with the Undersiders worse than any of his teammates, or indeed all of them combined.
None of them, however, had come away completely unscathed. Vista was perhaps the best off out of all of them, with a couple of bruises and a single black eye that Gallant was pretty sure one of them had given her on accident. Gallant and Clockblocker weren't quite as well off, but Clockblocker had avoided the worst by freezing himself inside his own costume, and Gallant's armor had protected him from more than some bruises and maybe a few cracked ribs — unlike Aegis, who Hellhound's dogs had used as a chew toy.
Perhaps they would have fared better if Vicky hadn't gotten caught up and had been able to actually help them, but for all that Dean appreciated his girlfriend and had to acknowledge the advantages of an Alexandria package, he rather doubted it. Most of the fight had been fought in Grue's darkness, with the Wards blind and deaf to the enemy, and even the few hits Vicky got in on the dogs had only temporarily stunned them.
Likely, Dean thought, Vicky would have wound up doing more damage to them than to the Undersiders. That was certainly one of the problems they'd had; more than once, they'd hit each other in the confusion, and Dean wouldn't be surprised if someone told him that most of the damage done to them — aside the obvious bites, scratches, and dents caused by the dogs — had come from each other.
There was a reason, it seemed, why the Undersiders were called masters of the escape, and the Wards had discovered firsthand exactly what that was today.
"What a wonderful day this has been," Clockblocker groaned as he pulled off Aegis' mask. "We respond to a bank robbery and get chewed on by a couple of giant bitches, then we come back to HQ to get chewed on by another giant bitch."
"You know better than to say something like that," Dean scolded. "If Piggot heard you say that —"
"She'd what? Put me in charge sooner?" Dennis asked humorlessly.
"Or stick you on console duty for the rest of your career as a Ward," Dean said. "You really want to be stuck doing that until you graduate?"
"No."
"It's not like he's wrong," Missy piped up. "We did our best while the adults were out schmoozing it up at that fundraiser or whatever. It's not our fault the Undersiders have five or six different ways to kick our damn teeth in."
"Language," said Dean. Missy flushed, but didn't offer a rebuttal.
"Anyway," she went on, "it's not like the Protectorate has ever done any better. The Undersiders have gotten the better of them a couple of times, too. It's not fair to pick on us for letting them get away, too."
Dennis made a sound in the back of his throat. "It's 'cause she doesn't have as much authority over the Protectorate. She can't tell them off whenever she's feeling pissy, because they can quit whenever they want."
"That's enough," Aegis grunted. "Complain later. I'm gonna shower. Get patched up. You guys debrief."
"Aye, Captain!" Dennis offered a sarcastic salute. Aegis — Carlos, now, with the mask off — shook his head and left.
Dean didn't quite catch what he mumbled as he went, but the sour notes of annoyance that roiled around him made it clear they weren't very polite. Dean sighed. They were all smarting after the fiasco that the fight with the Undersiders had been.
"Missy?" he said, addressing their youngest. "Could you go and get a couple of whiteboards for us to use?"
Missy, who had by now taken off her wig and her visor, blushed again and nearly ran off in her eagerness to do as he asked. Dean watched her go as the swirls of affection and excitement wafted off of her like steam.
That…might have been a mistake. Missy's crush was obvious, but Dean had done his best to pretend he didn't notice it and quietly discourage it without being mean or cruel.
"Is Kid Win gonna be alright?" asked Browbeat. "I mean, is it really serious?"
"My gut says she just wants to scare him," said Dean. "This isn't the first time he's tested the limits, and it's better he learns now, before he does it with someone stricter or tries to do it when he's graduated to the Protectorate. The punishments are a lot more serious, then."
Kid Win probably wasn't feeling that optimistic, though. That Alternator Cannon was one of his most successful projects; it must've stung really badly to have it taken away after having barely gotten to use it.
The regulations were there for a reason, however, and Dean thought maybe it was high time Kid Win learned that. Using untested gear in the field was profoundly reckless.
"Oh."
"One hell of a way to start your career as a Ward, huh?" asked Dennis.
"Fuck. If I knew what even happened, maybe," said Browbeat. "I was down and out before I even had any idea what was going on. I think I must've gotten tasered, but I didn't see or hear whoever got me, so I dunno." He grimaced. "Least I didn't get turned into a giant chew toy."
"You and me both!" Dennis laughed.
"Just be glad they didn't have a Shaker that messes with gravity or a cloner or something. That fight could have been a whole lot harder."
Missy came back, then, wheeling two whiteboards with her.
"Thanks, Missy."
Missy flushed again and smiled a pleased little smile as she returned back to where the rest of them were standing. Notes of satisfaction-pleasure-affection floated around her head like butterflies. Dean acted like they didn't exist.
"Mind if I take point, Dennis?"
"Fine by me," Dennis replied, waving it away. "I'm putting the whole leadership schtick off for as long as I can. 'Specially since I'll only be leader for a month or two before it's your turn, anyway."
Dean sighed and reached up, pressing the release on his helmet, and lifted it off his head. "Thanks anyway."
He reached over and picked up a marker, then turned to his teammates. "Alright. So, before we get started, I just wanted to say that no matter how much today felt like we lost pretty badly, we did manage to score some very important victories. I'd even go so far as to say we scored some of the most important victories."
He took a minute to let the swirls of confusion and curiosity percolate, then offered them all a winsome smile. He'd gotten rather good at those since he'd gotten his powers.
"Up until now, the Undersiders have gotten away from every job they've pulled almost entirely without a fight. This time, however, we got there quick enough that they had to fight us, first, and that means we finally have intel on what they can do and how some of their powers work."
Dean turned around to the whiteboards and separated each one into two columns with a thick, black line, then wrote Grue and Tattletale on one, and on the other, Hellhound and Regent. Each had their own column.
"What about that other girl?" asked Browbeat. "The one who was fighting Glory Girl?"
"She was a civilian," Missy answered. Something between relish and vindication threaded through what Dean could only think to call her aura. "Glory Girl jumped the gun when she saw her put Panacea in an arm hold."
Browbeat just looked more confused. Dean didn't need his powers to see it in his body language.
"All the hostages I talked to said that girl was in the bank with them when the Undersiders dropped in," said Dennis. "Tattletale apparently held her at gunpoint and forced her to help her out with whatever she was doing in those back offices."
"Why did she have Panacea in an arm hold, then?" Browbeat asked.
Dennis shook his head.
"No idea. You'd have to ask Panacea that."
"For now," said Dean, steering them back on track, "we'll leave any theorizing about our mystery girl for later. Let's talk about the Undersiders: what did we learn? What did we find out that will help us when we fight them again in the future? No detail is too small here, guys."
"Those mutant dogs that Hellhound makes," Vista started off, "they're not Mastered. She doesn't use her mind to control them. They're trained. She tells them what to do with whistles and gestures and stuff."
"Good." Dean wrote it down in Hellhound's column. "Yeah, I noticed that, too."
"Grue," offered Browbeat, "his power isn't just darkness. You can't hear inside of it, either. And it was strange moving around inside of it, there was some kind of resistance, like being underwater."
"Yes, that's great!"
Dean put that down in Grue's column, playing up at the excitement to get the rest of them going. Make them forget about just how badly they'd gotten thrashed, get them to focus on finding ways to fight the Undersiders better next time.
"Shadow Stalker could have told us that ages ago," muttered Dennis.
Everyone stopped. Dean, halfway through writing the word "resistance," froze up, too. Dennis had just spoken the forbidden word, the taboo name that the Wards had all been avoiding for nearly two days. Everybody had been afraid to mention her, afraid to broach the subject, like to say it was to make it somehow more real. Even Dean hadn't wanted to try and tackle the complicated pile of emotions that was now attached to Sophia's very name.
"What do you think actually happened?" asked Missy quietly.
Dennis snorted. There wasn't any amusement in it. "Knowing her, she went on one of her solo patrols and ran into something too big to handle on her own."
"Dennis," Dean said sharply. It was bad form to speak ill of the dead.
But Dennis just shook his head. "You can't tell me you didn't think it, too," he said. "That she was gonna wind up seriously hurt or killed if she kept going off on her own, like that." Under his breath, he added, "Or do it to someone else."
Dean grimaced, but couldn't deny it. No one had been under any illusions about why Sophia was a probationary Ward, and if they had been when she joined, her abrasive personality and her disdain for them and how they worked would quickly have changed that.
Dean had tried to help her, but she'd rebuffed him at every chance. Some people just didn't want to change, to resolve their problems. Some people were fine with wallowing in the dark. He'd still tried. If he'd succeeded or if he'd tried a little harder, then maybe…
But there was no use in that, now. You couldn't save the dead.
"I never really liked her," Missy admitted, "but that doesn't mean I wanted her dead."
"I don't think anyone really did," said Dennis. "She tried her hardest not to make any friends, here."
"And that makes it okay?" asked Missy, standoffish. "Just because nobody liked her?"
"No," Dennis replied. "But you're not going to see me bawling my eyes out over her. She was a bitch and she didn't respect anyone here. Being hot doesn't make up for the fact that she had the personality of a particularly angry crocodile."
"Guys," tried Browbeat.
Missy ignored him.
"So, you're happy she's gone, then? As long as you could…could stare at her ass, everything else could go?"
Dennis bristled a little. The room began to fill with the sickly black-red of their anger and pain, and Dean had to blink as his eyes watered from the sight of it. It was like looking at a festering, cancerous growth.
"You know what? I think I am. I'm glad to be rid of that 'I'm better than you' pain in the ass. I'm glad I don't have to listen to her talk about how we're all wusses who don't know how to tie our own damn shoes. I'm glad I don't have to listen to another lecture from Piggot because the great Sophia fucking Hess decided to abandon her assigned route to go off and play Batman with whatever poor sap she could find!"
"Guys," Browbeat tried again.
"I'm glad," Dennis went on, "that I don't have to put up with her surly glares and her insults and all of that anger and hate she carries around like she's the only one who's ever had a goddamn Trigger Event!"
"At least she had a fucking spine!" Missy yelled back. "At least she —"
"What's all the shouting about?"
Missy stopped, and they all turned to see Carlos, freshly showered and clad only in a pair of sweatpants. He'd stitched up the wounds he'd gotten from Hellhounds dogs, but clumsily; they were still grotesque and stomach-turning, and if it wasn't for his powers, very much fatal.
Both Missy and Dennis turned away. "Nothing," they said almost in unison. Their anger and resentment and a whole host of negative emotions were still swirling around them like circling sharks, but they'd shrunk down to more manageable levels.
"Alright," Dean said into the silence that followed, trying to project the image of calm and control that he thought a leader ought. "Let's get back on track."
For a moment, another silence persisted. Browbeat radiated hesitation and Carlos looked between them all, very obviously confused. Finally, at last, Dennis broke it.
"Regent," he said quietly. "The renfaire guy. His scepter's got a taser built into it."
"Good," Dean said. "Alright, good. That's good."
He wrote it down in Regent's column. He pretended that he couldn't see the feelings still orbiting Missy and Dennis, tamped down, but there all the same.
"Okay. What else?"
They went around for another several minutes, haltingly and slowly. They never did pick back up the pace that they'd started out with, and it took them probably twice as long as it should have, but they did, in the end, manage to fill out the Undersiders' columns — at least as much as they were able, anyway. Tattletale's was still basically a gigantic blank.
Every monitor in the room suddenly flashed yellow, and a grating alarm sounded — the notification system to let the Wards know that someone was going to be coming in, soon, and they had thirty seconds to prepare. They all scrambled to put on their masks, and Carlos had to grab one of the cheap, spare masks that was lying around for just such a reason.
A few moments after Dean had gotten his helmet back on, the entrance whirred open, and in stepped Armsmaster, with Miss Militia and Panacea behind him.
"Armsmaster," said Dean respectfully. "Good to see you, Sir. You as well, Miss Militia."
"Your manners are as refreshing as always, Gallant," said Miss Militia, eyes crinkling in a smile. She stepped aside to let Panacea through. "We brought a guest you might be familiar with."
The Amy Dallon who entered the Wards area was a jumbled mess of frustration and anxiety, with undercurrents of confusion, curiosity, and anticipation of the sort Gallant might expect from a young girl on Christmas Eve, waiting to unwrap her presents, or a scientist on the verge of discovery, impatient to get back to the lab and do her tests. It was…a little different from how he was used to seeing her.
Ah, but there was the flash of jealousy and resentment when she laid eyes on him.
"She was kind enough to volunteer to come and patch up your wounds," Miss Militia explained. "Can't let you go home with horrible injuries and looking like you went a round with Alexandria, can we? It'd give away the show."
"It's the least I could do, as thanks for you guys rescuing me," said Panacea.
"You two are okay?" Gallant asked. It was more a formality than anything, because neither of them had been hurt, but Dean wouldn't be Gallant if he wasn't…well, gallant.
"Fine," Panacea told him. "I wasn't really part of the fighting, and Glory Girl didn't really get the chance to do much herself, so neither of us was actually injured."
"Good."
Gallant turned around to watch Armsmaster, who had gone up to examine the whiteboards. "I like this," he said. "This is good. But this one…" He tapped at Tattletale's column. "Nearly empty."
"None of us ran into her," Gallant explained. "And the hostages couldn't offer anything substantial."
"What about the mystery girl?" Browbeat piped up.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"Mystery girl?" asked Armsmaster.
"Well, yeah," said Browbeat. "Panacea's here, now, and she's the one who saw her, so…"
Something swirled in Panacea, and it was there and gone so fast that Gallant almost missed it. "I'm…not sure I know what you're talking about."
"The one who was fighting Glory Girl," Browbeat clarified.
"You mean Taylor?" asked Panacea.
At once, both Miss Militia and Armsmaster stiffened. Gallant saw what he could only describe as alarm quickly consume both of them, and they shared a look with each other that he couldn't quite decipher.
Something was up, he realized. What was so special about this girl that two Protectorate heroes apparently knew her by name?
"She's the one Tattletale held at gunpoint, right?" Browbeat went on, oblivious to the adults' reactions.
"Um. Well, yeah…"
"This girl," Armsmaster began, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "This Taylor. About five-ten? Lean, thin, with long, very wavy dark hair? Wears glasses?"
Surprise rippled through Amy, and Gallant saw her blink, astonished. A strange feeling of foreboding kindled inside him, but he had no idea what it meant.
"Um, yes, actually," said Panacea.
Armsmaster and Miss Militia both shared another look, Miss Militia's brow drawn tight and Armsmaster's mouth pulled into a thin line. He turned back to Panacea, again.
"And did she say what she was doing at the bank?"
"She said she was depositing some cash her friend gave her," Panacea answered. "Said her friend had some luck at a casino and gave her some of the winnings."
Armsmaster's lips twitched as though he'd just caught on to some kind of joke, but any sign that he might have started to smile was gone an instant later. The flash of amusement was there and gone so quickly that Gallant was almost sure he'd imagined it.
"How did she react when the Undersiders showed up?"
"She had a panic attack," Panacea told him. "Froze up. She was hyperventilating so bad she nearly blacked out. Almost broke my hand from how hard she was gripping it."
The two heroes exchanged another look, this one something that Gallant couldn't quite figure out. Not…confusion, exactly, but…
"She was holding your hand?" asked Miss Militia.
"We were sitting next to each other," Panacea explained. "We, uh, kind of got to talking while we were waiting for the line to thin out. She grabbed my hand when Grue covered the lobby in darkness."
"And what happened afterwards? There was something about Tattletale holding her at gunpoint?"
Panacea nodded.
"Um, yes. Tattletale, uh, came back while Grue and…Hellhound? They called her Bitch. Tattletale came back while Grue and Hellhound were loading up in the vault, said she had some business of her own to handle and she needed an 'assistant.' She picked Taylor, then forced her down the hall and into one of the offices. I don't know what she had her do, in there."
Miss Militia hummed thoughtfully.
"And how did this lead to her fighting Glory Girl?" she asked.
"Well, uh, once the fighting started, I…kind of got out of the way and picked up a fire extinguisher to defend myself with," Panacea said a little sheepishly. "Um, since I couldn't find anything else. When I heard Tattletale coming back down the hallway, I hid around the corner and waited for her to pass by."
"And you tried to hit her with the fire extinguisher," Miss Militia concluded.
"I tried to hit her with the fire extinguisher," Amy agreed. "But, um, Taylor was right next to her or something and disarmed me, put me in one of those submission holds. She said she reacted without thinking when she saw the fire extinguisher, and she was about to let me go when, well, when Glory Girl…jumped to conclusions."
"That's when Glory Girl broke her arm?"
"Not, um, not exactly, no," said Amy. "Vicky tried, several times, to…to knock her out, I guess, but Taylor just kinda…dodged all of them."
Gallant watched the surprise ripple through both adults. Armsmaster leaned forward a little with clear interest.
What was so special about this girl?
"She dodged Glory Girl?"
"Yeah." Amy nodded. "Quite, um, quite expertly, too. I thought she must practice some kind of martial arts to be that good, although it didn't look anything like what they show in the movies."
There was a thready undercurrent of guilt that Gallant watched snake its way through her aura, and he felt his lips pull into a frown as he realized what it meant: she was lying. Or at the very least, she wasn't saying everything.
"How did she break her arm, then?"
"They traded punches," was Amy's answer. "I…don't know why Taylor tried to punch Glory Girl, but she did, and Glory Girl wasn't holding back maybe as much as she should have. Taylor's arm broke when they hit each other's fist."
Armsmaster and Miss Militia traded another look, this one grim and serious, and then Armsmaster gave a nod and said, "I'll inform the Director."
"I'll stay here and see Miss Dallon out," said Miss Militia.
Armsmaster gave her another nod, then swept a glance around at the gathered Wards, and left. The door opened, then whirred shut behind him.
"What was that about?" Dennis asked.
"I'm sorry," Miss Militia told him, "but I'm afraid it's not something we can discuss with you Wards, just yet. The situation is too sensitive to bring you in on it. Most of the Protectorate hasn't been brought in on the fine details."
She offered them a smile. Gallant could only pay attention to the swirl of dread, sadness, and shame that clung close to her like dew on a cool morning.
"Now," she said, changing the subject, "why don't we get all of you patched up? Amy, if you would, please?"
Panacea hesitated for a moment, then she stepped forward and offered everyone her own smile. "So, who needs it most? Aegis?"
"I'll live," Carlos grunted. "I can go last."
After a moment, Gallant raised his hand. "I got slammed by one of Hellhound's dogs. Paramedics cleared me, but I think I might have a broken rib, and I want to be sure."
Panacea looked at him and frowned, then she gestured to the far end of the room, where they'd have some privacy. "I'll take a look at you over there?"
Dennis laughed and gave them a grin. "Of course, Glory Girl's boyfriend gets the special treatment, right?"
Gallant didn't bother saying anything; he just shot a smirk back at Dennis.
Gallant and Panacea walked over, and Panacea sat him down on the bed (so she had an easier time checking him over, probably), then set her hand on his shoulder. A moment later, her brow furrowed.
"No broken rib," she announced. "It's barely more than a hairline fracture, really, but you're not even in that much pain. Why would you—"
"I lied," Gallant admitted shamelessly. "I just wanted an excuse so I could talk to you, alone."
He reached out to grab her hand, but a sour burst of anger-disgust-frustration flared through her aura and she snatched her hand away, then folded both beneath her armpits so that he couldn't try again. He should have expected that.
"You know sensing emotions is part of my powers," he said, undaunted. "It's not something I can turn off, either, so I always see how people are feeling around me."
"Victoria's mentioned it, yes," Amy replied coolly.
"So you probably already know what I see whenever Victoria and I are together," he went on. "I've been meaning to talk to you about it, actually, but I didn't want to discuss it when she was nearby. And I could never really find a good moment to broach the subject, but…"
Amy's voice was flat, unimpressed. "What?"
"Are…you okay?" he asked. "With us, I mean. Victoria and I. I know you have some rather strong feelings about me, and if it's something you're comfortable with talking about, I'd be happy to —"
"No," she cut him off harshly. "No, I don't want to talk about it."
"I'm sorry," he hurried to say. "I know it's a difficult subject, and maybe I shouldn't have brought it up —"
"No," she interjected again, "you really shouldn't have."
She turned and started to walk away, but Gallant reached out and grabbed her shoulder, first.
Backing down was how he'd lost Sophia. He'd let her drive him off, and he hadn't been persistent enough to get her to open up. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
"Amy," he said sincerely. "Amy, look. I know that's not the only thing bothering you, either. You've got stuff on your mind, stuff I don't think you've talked to anyone about, and maybe it's stuff you don't want to talk to me about, but if you do… If you do, I'm always willing to listen. My door will always be open. Just…keep that in mind?"
He wasn't sure he'd gotten through to her — just like he'd never gotten through to Sophia — and he worried, maybe, in his efforts to head off another person dying who he could have helped, if he hadn't pushed a little too hard.
"…Okay."
Thankfully, however, it seemed he hadn't.
Gallant gave her a nod she couldn't see and let go of her shoulder, but her hand came up lightning fast and took his. She held it for a moment, and as she did, Gallant felt something inside his chest shift and the aches and pains left over from the fight with the Undersiders disappear. A few seconds later, they were all gone, and Amy let go of his hand, again.
"There," she said quietly. "That takes care of those bruises and that fractured rib. You're all fixed up."
"Thanks," he told her sincerely.
She started to take another step and go to rejoin the group, but she hesitated and turned her head to look back at him from over her shoulder.
"Take care of Vicky, okay?" There was something… strange in her voice. A dark pattern of sadness-resignation-longing swam around her head. "Make her happy?"
Dean gave her his most solemn, honest smile. He hoped it was befitting of the name he'd chosen, the image he'd been trying to live up to.
"Of course I will."
— o.0.O.O.0.o —
There it goes. The last time I borrow from canon until Legend's speech at the Leviathan fight.
In truth, I borrowed a bit more than I wanted to, and I'm pretty sure I've said that several times, now. But, this is a bonus interlude, and I wanted to explore how the Wards are reacting to Shadow Stalker's death and get into Gallant's head, a little.
Next chapter is the beginning of arc 4. No Pendulum, this arc.
As always, read, review, and enjoy.
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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