Chapitre 1768: 63
Chapter 63
A Darker Path
Part Sixty-Three: The Big Reveal
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Relevant Side-Story: A Brilliant Fool, by Masterweaver
Missy grumbled as her parents started arguing over what to do with the government-granted credit cards. "It's free money, and you're wasting time trying to prove you're right and the other one's wrong," she muttered to the ceiling of her room.
Her thoughts turned to the recent changes in Brockton Bay. Sure, the lack of supervillains made things boring, but the city was getting better every day. And training with the firefighters was pretty cool, no matter what Dennis said. She had even shed the burden of being the youngest Ward, with Miss Medic getting all the 'you're such a cute girl!' attention these days.
Well, most of the attention. Cultural inertia was still a thing.
The point was that Missy felt life was, overall, getting better. She got the respect she deserved, the chance to show off her powers, and the knowledge that she could really make a difference. So why, when it came right down to it, did she still have to live with these assholes?!
Like, seriously! Even if she got traded to another city-and Missy was cognizant enough of her own potential to realize she was pretty much the one most likely to be passed to a place she was needed, now that Brockton Bay was relatively peaceful-the god-damned Youth Guard would make sure her parents followed her. Oh, she needs a healthy childhood, she can't just be a cape all the time, they'd claim, all while ignoring her parents screaming their heads off about each other. How the FUCK was she supposed to have a healthy childhood in THIS environment? Didn't the Youth Guard understand anything about trigger events? But nooooooooo, the two people responsible for all the suck in her life were OBVIOUSLY the best family she could POSSIBLY have!
Missy growled up at the ceiling. "God, I wish I could just arrest them. Find something really criminal in the house and get them locked up." She sighed. "Or maybe Atropos could come in and have a chat." For a dark, idle moment, she entertained the image of the serial killer just showing up and sharpening her shears, terrifying her parents into compliance with nothing but presence. She didn't want them dead-she wasn't that far gone-but the idea of summoning the local devil just to scare them straight was...
...actually, strangely compelling. Atropos gave warnings, and as far as she knew her parents hadn't received any. She could probably menace them into behaving themselves. Granted, she had no reason to come to Missy's house personally, it wasn't like anybody here was... a threat... to her...
Missy sat up slowly.
"That's it," she murmured in realization. "That's how she always knows. She can sense threats." An incredulous giggle escaped her throat. "Of course she can! We've been focused so much on the combat thinker aspect we missed the preparations! If somebody actually intends to kill her-"
Her mother screamed something about her father being a corporate whore. Her father loudly replied by questioning her mother's own virtue.
Missy bit her lip.
"...screw it, it's worth a shot," she muttered.
She pictured herself fighting Atropos. Using her power to isolate her, to warp her weapons away from her grip. She pictured herself, imagined herself, pinning the girl against a wall-towering over the black figure on a patch of warped sidewalk. In her mind, her hands wrapped around the serial killer's throat-
"I have. No words. For how disappointed I am."
Missy's eyes snapped open.
"You are the first person to have figured out that part of my powers," Atropos said, crossing her arms. "And instead of deciding, hey, maybe it's a good idea to keep this a secret-or even just doing the 'responsible' thing and reporting your realization to the PRT-you decide to try to summon me. I mean, really?" She half-waved a hand in a gesture of incredulousness. "I kill people! In extremely gorey ways! I have traumatized literal protectorate members with the aftermath of my murders! What could possibly have made you think that this was a good-?"
More accusations wafted up from downstairs.
"...You can not be serious."
Missy shrugged. "I mean, you're solving a lot of problems already-"
"No, nope, you are REALLY stretching there," Atropos insisted, shaking her head. "I handled the drug trade because it was bad for the city. This is a domestic dispute. It's terrible, sure, but it's not my problem."
"You know who I am, right?"
Atropos rubbed her temples with a sigh. "Are you seriously playing the cape card-"
"Vista? Youngest and most experienced Ward? Shaker nine, and that's with me holding back." Missy cocked her head contemplatively. "I wonder what would happen if a girl with those powers suddenly snapped one day, maybe because of a horrible home situation. Is the city insured for a traumatized space warper going on a rampage-?"
Something cold and sharp was suddenly pressed right under her chin.
"I could just kill you right now," Atropos pointed out. "Save myself the trouble."
Missy didn't move anything but her eyes, though she stared defiantly at the blank mask. "You could, sure. And then the PRT would have to label you as a villain who killed a Ward, probably get a kill order on you automatically, and you'd have to deal with basically everyone constantly coming after you instead of just the most idiotic villains, and it would take up a lot of your time and be so tedious to kill all of them..."
"...do you actually have no fear?"
Missy shrugged. "I fought Hookwolf once."
"You know, that's not actually a good thing-"
Something shattered in the other room. There was even more hateful screaming.
"...Look, I triggered when I was eight. You know how bad a trigger event is, right? I've spent the last five fucking years living with the people who caused mine. And the damned Youth Guard doesn't do a thing, they won't even let me move out of the house." Missy sighed. "I just want it to stop. I just want them to... stop, to make up or just move on already instead of dragging this out. And it might not be doing a lot to help the city, but... it couldn't hurt, could it? Every little bit counts."
"You actually want me to kill your parents," Atropos deadpanned.
"I mean... I thought you could just talk with them?" Missy offered hesitantly. "You do that, right? Two warnings?"
Atropos stared at her for a long moment.
Then she pulled back her shears and sheathed them. "I'm a fucking serial killer," she muttered. "The scariest person on the east coast. Why the hell do I keep saving little girls from terrible situations?"
"Because we're the future and you want what's best for the city?"
The cape threw her head back and let out an aggravated, exasperated groan that Missy took as confirmation of her actual age. "UUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUuuuuugh... Fine. FINE."
Missy grinned vindictively.
"But you're not getting off that easy," Atropos warned. "First of all, that summoning trick? Don't do it again. Don't even think about doing it. And don't tell anyone, got it? I came here because it was a step in a larger plan. That's all."
"Oh, totally."
"Secondly, this absolutely counts as your first warning. You get on my bad side, you get one more warning, and then you die. Understand?"
Missy nodded. "I can live with that."
"Thirdly, since I'm doing this for you, you owe me a favor." Atropos held up a hand. "No, it won't be illegal, or even unethical, but when I call it in I expect you to do exactly what I say."
"...Yeah, that's fair," Missy conceded.
With an annoyed grumble, Atropos opened her door and stomped down the hall. "Can't believe I'm doing this, a social worker should be handling this crap... HEY! YOU TWO! Knock that shit off! I don't actually care what you think about each other, but the noise complaints I've been getting have been going through the roof!"
Missy smiled as she laid back down, snuggling happily under her sheets.
"Either get some damned marriage counseling or a fucking divorce already! Also, I'm stealing your booze. Because you don't deserve any alcohol, that's why!"
"I wonder if Brian's sister is accepting members into the fan club," she murmured to herself as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
Relevant Side-Story: Concerned Mother, by Masterweaver
Vicky tossed aside her phone with a groan.
"What is it?"
"There's this thread on PHO debating the economic specifics of the B3C. Basically it boils down to a lot of people saying 'this is how economics works so X will happen or Y won't happen' and a bunch of other people saying 'Atropos has everything under control because FUCK LOGIC SHE'S ATROPOS.'" She groaned as she flopped onto the couch. "It really flared up after the Simurgh thing and now it's just..."
"A flame war?" Amy offered sympathetically.
"A very long-winded and overly polite flame war," Vicky replied. "God... I know PR is important but some people on the internet are just so full of themselves."
"You don't have to keep up with that," Carol pointed out dryly. "I understand that teenagers of this generation are very internet dependent, but you could easily look at a far more healthy material. Like digital pornography."
Vicky snorted in surprise. "Holy shit, was that a joke? Amy, I think Mom just made a joke!"
"Should we call master/stranger protocols?" Amy asked, the seriousness of her tone betrayed by her twitching lips.
Carol rolled her eyes. "I suppose I'm feeling a little more cheerful after hearing about the Simurgh's demise. Although I am somewhat annoyed the offices decided to suspend their operations for the day," she admitted. "I understand why, but I was right in the middle of arranging files for a very important case."
"Mom, has anybody ever told you you're a workaholic?"
Carol gave Vickey a Look. "I'm simply dedicated."
"Ahuh." Vicky stretched her arms above her head. "Well, maybe we'll be lucky and Atropos won't be killing any S-class threats in the next week."
"I'll ask her about it the next time she comes to visit," Amy quipped.
Vicky froze mid-stretch.
"...What," Carol said carefully, "exactly, do you mean by that?"
Amy was silent for a moment.
Then, very slowly, she let out a sigh. "Right. So... you know that favor Atropos wanted?" At Carol's nod, she shrugged. "Bonesaw rigged herself to release so many super death plagues if she died, so Atropos knocked her out and asked me to, uh, disarm her so half the state didn't get wiped out."
"She shot her in the head-"
"Reinforced skull. The headshot was for show, the needle to the ear knocked her out."
"And Atropos brought an unconscious Bonesaw to the house?" Carol demanded with a scowl.
"No! No. She had me meet her in a park." Amy grimaced. "Please don't ask how I disarmed Bonesaw. I've seen some extreme things healing people after cape battles, and that-that was so much fucking worse, I don't even want to think about it."
Carol frowned, but accepted that with a nod.
"So, was that the only time she visited?" Vicky asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
Amy cringed. "...Weeeeeeeeeell-"
Carol facepalmed.
"You know how she killed Bastard Son's powers? There was this Case 53 who wanted the same thing done, so Atropos swung by to pick me up and reconstruct her body after that-"
"Amy," Carol ground out. "Why did you not tell us about this?"
Amy took a deep breath.
"...You, as Carol Dallon, are one of the most accomplished lawyers in the business. You, as Brandish, are a very experienced and formidable hero. But in both cases, you're rather quick to judge and stubborn to act. And as... rough as our relationship is, I don't actually want you to die."
"That's not the point-"
"Mom, I say this with all due respect to you as a lawyer, a cape, and a mother." Amy looked her in the eyes. "What. Exactly. Can you do. To the woman. Who killed. The Simurgh."
Carol Dallon stared at her for a long, long moment.
Then she got up and marched to her office, shutting the door behind her.
PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Brandish
Subject: Appropriate use of doors
My daughter has just informed me of your collaberations with her. I do not appreciate being left out of the loop for such significant events. The next time you visit my house, I would like for you to knock on the door before entering, so we can discuss exactly what the two of you intend to do.
PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Brandish
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Appropriate use of doors
That is absolutely fair. Actually, you know what? Not only will I knock on the door, I'll bring a couple bottles of apology wine.
PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Atropos
From: Brandish
Subject: Re: Re: Appropriate use of doors
And where exactly did you get wine?
PRIVATE MESSAGE
To: Brandish
From: Atropos
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Appropriate use of doors
Vista's parents. Long story.
We now return to the approximation of a narrative ...
Cherish
Cherie was doing her homework at the kitchen table when Taylor teleported into the living room. Dropping her pencil, she jumped up immediately. "Wow, that didn't take long at all."
"Nope." Unplugging the phone from the bullhorn, Taylor dropped them both on the sofa. "It got a little hectic, but that was always the plan."
Heading into the living room, Cherie caught the smells of dust, of gun-smoke, and of burnt cloth. "Why does it smell like your coat's on fire?"
"It's not on fire, but there's a few holes in it." Taylor took off her coat and shook it out. When she spread it wide, Cherie was just able to see the tiny, scorched laser holes around the lower end, where it had flared out. "The Machine Army got a little trigger-happy, but I got my message across. 'Panache' has been delivered." That was what Taylor had called the virus.
"That's the thing that tells them to die, right?" Cherie took the coat and carefully draped it across the sofa, then gave her a heartfelt hug. "They got awfully close to you, this time."
Taylor hugged her in return. The human contact was nice. "Nothing I couldn't handle. All they hit was cloth and air."
"But they got closer than anyone else ever has." Cherie let go and stepped back half a pace, her hands on Taylor's upper arms. She tried to put her concern into words, because Taylor was someone she actually cared about. "I don't want you being all overconfident and getting shot because someone's a bit better than you think they are."
"There were a lot of bullets and a lot of lasers, but I knew exactly where to step so they didn't get me." Taylor took her hat and mask off, then pulled Cherie in close and pressed their foreheads together. "Though I'm truly touched by your concern. Thank you."
Cherie could tell she was being sincere, and the warmth from that spread through her whole chest. "Well, you've literally done more for me than anyone else in my life, ever. So, you'll excuse me if I'm just a bit protective of you." She sniffled, trying not to let Taylor hear it or see the tears standing in her eyes.
"Well, it's all good." Taylor hugged her again. "They're not going to get that close again. I promise."
"I'm glad." Cherie totally meant it. Trying to change the subject so she could wipe her eyes and blow her nose without being obvious about it, she nodded toward the kitchen. "The lasagne's looking good, I think. I mean, it's looking like when you do it. Smells like it, too."
Neither by word nor gesture did Taylor give the impression that she'd figured out the tiny subterfuge, but Cherie knew that she knew. However, she was nice enough to not call Cherie out on it. "Well, let's go have a look at it, shall we?"
Taylor
Dad got home about half an hour later. I'd been for a shower, and Cherie was just setting the table when I came back downstairs. It was almost heartbreaking (pun intended) to see how well she responded to even mild praise for doing a minor chore like that.
"Hi, girls," he said as he came in the back door. "Is that lasagne I smell?" He'd known, of course, that Cherie was cooking dinner, but his appreciative sniff was as genuine as my own.
"I hope it's okay." Cherie hunched her shoulders. "Taylor says it is, but I'm scared I did something stupid and it'll taste terrible."
"Well, we'll see." He gave her a genial smile, then took off his coat and hung it alongside the door. "It smells good, so that's a great first step. How did you go at school today?"
Cherie beamed. "Mrs Engels gave me an A for my math work today. Oh, and Greg Veder came and talked to me at lunch. He told me he was sorry about Sparky bothering me, and said to come see him if anyone gives me problems and I can't find Taylor."
I raised my eyebrows a little. I hadn't known he'd say or do that. Not that Cherie would ever be unable to find me—my power would tell me if she was upset—but I definitely approved.
"Well, that sounds nice of him." Dad evidently agreed with me. "And congratulations on the A. It shows you're working hard. What do you think, Taylor? Next time we get some free time, we should go to the movies to celebrate?"
"Can't think of a better reason," I said honestly. It was actually a pretty good idea. I'd gone to the movies a few times with Cherie already, but going specifically as a reward for doing well in school would be a first for her.
Dad went and washed up, then we sat down for dinner. The lasagne was delicious, something Dad and I both made sure to comment on. Positive reinforcement was the name of the game, and though Cherie absolutely knew what we were up to, it didn't stop her from feeling good about the compliments coming her way.
"I'm going to have to skip dessert," I announced as I got up from the table. "It's time to go out again, but I didn't want to miss your lasagne."
Dad watched curiously as I went to the fridge and took the two bottles of champagne that had been chilling nicely at the back for a few weeks now. "I've been wondering about those," he ventured. "I don't drink wine, and I'm pretty sure you don't either."
"It's kind of a payment for a favour and kind of a being-a-dick tax," I explained cheerfully. They went neatly into the shopping bag I had ready, and I left them on the table while I went and collected my costume. My teleporter had been sitting on charge since I got home, so I put that on as well, the little green lights indicating that it was full up and ready to go. This was good; I was going to need it.
Dad frowned, trying to figure that one out. Cherie, who'd already heard the story from me, smirked. "Okay …" said Dad eventually. "You … did someone a favour, but they were a dick to you so you took two bottles of wine instead of one?"
"Oh, I took more than that." I waved in the general direction of the basement door. "There's a few more bottles down there, in case we needed one for a rainy day. I'm gonna be bringing one to Director Piggot's farewell party."
The expression on Dad's face was amusing. "You know," he said to Cherie, "one of these days I'm going to learn not to ask questions like that. The type where the answer just involves more questions."
"That does seem to happen around Taylor a lot, yes," she agreed gravely, trying to hide the lurking grin and the amusement in her eyes.
"I'll let you explain it," I said to Cherie as I pulled on the mask, then put the hat on top. "Time to deliver some apology wine."
"Don't ask me about that one," I heard Cherie say to Dad as I tapped in my destinations and set the timer. "I have no idea, either. But she got it when Vista contacted her—"
Dallon Household, 06:40 PM
Brandish
Carol was leaning back in her study chair, going through the details of a witness statement, when there was a brisk one-two-three-four knock on the front door. She ignored it; Mark was watching TV, Victoria was doing the dishes and Amy was upstairs in her room. Someone else would get it.
The knock came again. She tried not to frown and accentuate the wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Could someone please get that?" she called.
There was no repeat of the knock; she relaxed, getting back into the flow of the document. This lasted just long enough to get to the end of the page, when there came a gentle knock on the door of her study. "Mom?" It was Victoria.
Slowly, Carol turned. "What is it?" she asked, doing her best not to sound angry or impatient, while at the same time trying to project I-am-busy-here vibes.
"There's someone here to see you." She'd never heard Victoria sound so subdued before. "I really think you should come out here."
"Well?" Carol mustered her best cut-through-the-bullshit tone. "Who is it?"
"Atropos."
That one name took Carol's concentration, dragged it around the back, and shot it in the head. She stared at her daughter. "What, here? Now? In this house?"
"Yes, here. Yes, now. Yes, in this house." Victoria gave the impression of someone holding on to sanity by their fingernails. "She says she's here to talk to you about Amy. Right now, she's discussing TV shows with Dad."
Because of course she is. Carol jumped to her feet and smoothed her dress down, then snarled inwardly at herself. Why am I worried about looking good in front of a mass murderer? Taking a deep breath, she strode out of her study and into the living room.
Atropos was indeed there, sitting in an armchair while Mark explained some point about a show Carol had never watched. They both looked around as she entered, and Atropos stood up again. She was holding a shopping bag with something long and heavy in it.
"Hello again, Mrs Dallon." Atropos might've been smiling from the tone of her voice, but Carol couldn't really tell. She held out the bag. "Apology wine, remember? I said I'd bring some over when I came to talk to you about what I was doing with Amy next."
"Oh." A lot of pieces fell into place at once. "Ah. Yes. You didn't have to, really." But her hand went out to accept the bag anyway.
"Yeah, I did." Atropos turned to address Mark. "Sorry, Mr Dallon. I'm on a little bit of a time crunch right now, but we can definitely get back to this discussion at a later date." She even managed to sound sincere about it.
"Absolutely." He smiled up at her. "It's been an interesting conversation."
Carol wasn't interested in small talk. "We can discuss matters in my study, unless you've got a better place in mind."
"Your study's fine," Atropos agreed. "Lead the way." The morph mask made it just as hard as before to figure out her attitude merely from her voice. Carol was used to being able to pick out tells, but Atropos had none.
"Victoria." Carol handed her the bottles. "Put these in the fridge." The last thing she wanted to do was needlessly offend Atropos by neglecting the gift. The idea that it might be poisoned crossed her mind briefly, then was dismissed equally as quickly. Atropos didn't do anything as subtle as poison.
"Yes, Mom." Victoria accepted them, but lingered as though she, too, wanted to be in on the conversation.
That was absolutely not going to happen. "No disturbances," Carol ruled. "None."
Turning, she led the way back to her study. Atropos followed exactly two steps behind her, and closed the door without being prompted once they were inside the study. Carol mentally debated remaining on her feet, then decided that sitting in her study chair would give her an air of authority that was currently missing from the situation.
She lowered herself into the chair while Atropos stayed standing, near the door. "So …" she prompted, mainly to see what Atropos would say.
"So, I suppose you're wondering why I got champagne from Vista's parents." Carol hadn't been wondering anything of the sort—or rather, it had been the lowest priority matter she'd been wondering about—but Atropos barely paused before launching into the tale.
"Her parents fight, and when they drink it gets worse and they drag Vista into it. She asked me to intervene, and so I took their booze away and gave them an ultimatum. They're both in counselling now, which is a good thing for all concerned." The hint of a smile under that damn morph mask was even more sinister than a fully visible one would've been. "Now, I can tell you've got a question about that."
Carol had many questions, but there was one that was more urgent than the others. "Yes. Why did you help Vista? I didn't even know she knew you."
"Oh, she doesn't. She just … called out, and I answered. But why would I, a confessed serial killer, intervene with her parents, especially when I've never met her before? It's simple. She's young, and she's powerful. If someone like that, especially stuck in a rough home situation, ever became disenchanted and discouraged by the situation she finds herself in, she might act out. Turn villain. With parenting comes a certain responsibility to be a parent, especially when the child is someone who could devastate the entire city with ease if they were ever deprived of a good role model. Don't you think?"
Atropos' voice was steady, almost hypnotic. Carol stared at the mask, somehow knowing that the eyes behind it were fixed on hers. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the uncomfortable implication behind her words.
She went to speak and found her throat dry. After swallowing, she tried again. "We are still talking about Vista here, right?"
"We're talking about whoever you think we're talking about." Which didn't help Carol's state of mind one bit. "But anyway, on to the reason I came over tonight. There's a supervillain who's in need of a certain amount of … repair, shall we say. I'm moderately confident that once this is accomplished, with the help of Amy and a couple of others, I'll be able to talk this villain into giving up crime and setting out on the straight and narrow."
"A supervillain can't just stop being a criminal!" Carol's outburst was almost reflexive. "They've got to undergo restitution for their crimes!" It was one of her most deeply held beliefs.
A moment later, she flushed as she recalled exactly who she was talking to. Atropos had committed more crimes than most, and she was almost certainly going to escape any kind of meaningful punishment for her many murders. Whatever the opposite of 'preaching to the choir' was, it applied here.
"After a certain point, punishment for past criminal activity goes beyond rehabilitation and becomes an exercise in sadism and vengeance." Atropos shook her head. "What better restitution than allowing them to use their powers for good, to build a better world?"
"So, who is it?" Carol wasn't sure why she asked the question, save as a way to garner as much information from this conversation as possible. "Which supervillain are you seeking to miraculously convert into a hero, and who else do you have helping?"
"Not a hero." Atropos chuckled. "Rogue at best. Edgy rogue, at that. But with any luck, no longer a supervillain. As for names, I think I'll keep those to myself for the moment. Remove any temptation you might have to try to throw a spanner in the works somehow."
Carol frowned, displeased at the flat denial. "I haven't yet given permission for Amy to leave this house with you." It was, as Victoria called it, the Mom card, her best power move.
As a trump card, it fell flat. "I wasn't asking permission. You said to knock on the front door and talk. I've knocked, we're talking. You now know as much as I'm willing to tell you. The only person who has a say in whether Amy leaves this house tonight is Amy. I'm not going to force her, and you can't stop her."
The absolute assurance in every word, every syllable, took Carol's breath away. Worse, thinking about it, Carol knew Atropos was correct. She hadn't made any particular stipulation about Amy's assistance, just that Atropos tell her what they intended to do. And if Amy had already gone out without Carol's knowledge before, she'd be all the more likely to defy Carol's word now if Atropos asked her to. Because teenagers were like that.
To Carol's credit, at no point did she consider escalating the disagreement from the verbal to the physical. Cape, normal or Endbringer; nobody who had faced Atropos in a physical confrontation had won. The ones who'd survived quite likely wished they hadn't.
She rose from her chair and went to the door. Atropos politely stepped aside for her, showing no signs of worry. Opening the door, Carol looked out to see Victoria loitering not all that far down the corridor. Normally she would've been irritated at the potential for eavesdropping, but right now she had other matters on her mind. "Victoria, please fetch Amy for me. Immediately."
"Yes, Mom." There may have been an element of guilt in how quickly Victoria left the scene, but Carol wasn't worried about that.
Leaving the door open, she went back and sat down in her chair. "When she gets here, we will speak to her and, as you say, she gets the final decision whether she goes or not." It wasn't the best move she could think of, and it wasn't the move she wanted to make, but it was the only one available to her.
"Works for me." Atropos had the air of someone for whom time limits did not apply. She stood there while Carol watched the doorway; for all the impatience she showed, she could've been a statue.
"A question, while we're waiting?" The query had bobbed up in Carol's mind, and now she couldn't get rid of it.
Atropos gestured gracefully; go right ahead. "Sure."
"The number of people you've killed. Do you … see them? In your dreams?" Carol had had nightmares from time to time, following her traumatic trigger event. Even now, decades later, she had to sleep with the lights on.
"No. My power is literally about Ending things. People, legacies, Endbringers. They're all the same to me." Carol could've sworn Atropos raised her eyebrows. "If I kill someone or something, it's because I needed them to die. But I never kill for nothing. It's never casual for me. There's always a reason."
Carol had her mouth open to ask another question when there was a rush of running feet, and Amy came into view. Oddly enough, she was in full costume. This normally only happened when she was going out for … oh.
"Mom," Amy panted, briefly out of breath. "Hi, Atropos. Vicky said you were here."
"Did you know she was coming here?" asked Carol. If Amy lied now …
"Well, I didn't know she was gonna walk in the front door, but yeah, she messaged me last night and asked me if I wanted to help with something." Amy shut up then, which was what Carol didn't want her to do.
"And that something was …?" Carol prompted, in her best courtroom manner.
She didn't miss the flickering glance Amy shot Atropos, nor the fractional nod Atropos returned. The good news was that Atropos was willing for Amy to reveal all. On the other hand, the bad news was that Amy was looking to Atropos for guidance in that matter.
Victoria was loitering in the doorway, nonchalantly pretending to be invisible, but Carol didn't have the time or inclination to send her away. Besides, a witness was probably best in a situation like this.
Amy took a deep breath. "There's some supervillain, Atropos hasn't told me their name. They need something done to them that I've never done before, so she's bringing in a team to help me out. Once we're done, she wants to rehabilitate the villain to be a rogue. And that's all I know."
Which added exactly zero to the sum total of the knowledge Carol already had about the matter. "Victoria!"
Eyes widening as though she'd been actually caught out listening at the keyhole, Victoria straightened up. "Yes, Mom?"
"Do you know anything about this?" It was her last chance to find out anything more.
There was no hesitation, no furtive glances at Amy or Atropos. "No, ma'am. First I've heard of it." She gave Amy a moderately disappointed look. "You could've invited me along. It sounds pretty cool."
"Sorry." Atropos didn't sound apologetic. "I specifically didn't mention you because of potential problems arising from power interactions. Also, it's likely to be mostly boring except for Amy and her team."
"Gotcha." Victoria looked enlightened, which was more than Carol was. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. Just take care of her, okay?"
"When have I not?" Atropos, it seemed, could be as snarky as any other teenager. "This will be a non-combat situation. There is a mild element of danger, easily avoided. Amy's actions will assist in mitigating the danger. That's one of the reasons I'm bringing her along."
Carol blinked. "Oh." This was sounding less problematic all the time, save for the original confrontation. "You could maybe have led with that."
Atropos turned and gave her the most deadpan gaze she'd ever seen, clear through the morph mask. "You didn't ask."
"Ah. So, is there anything else you can tell me?" Information was better late than never.
"No, that was it." She was almost sure Atropos was doing this on purpose. "Amy, you ready to go?"
Amy blinked at being put on the spot, then hastily nodded. "Um, sure."
"Wait." Carol held up her hand. "Amy … I know this is probably a little sudden, but when you get back, I'd like to talk. Mother to daughter, if you're willing."
Slowly, Amy nodded again. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Excellent. I'll have her back in an hour." Atropos waved toward the other side of the study, and a shadowy doorway faded into view there. She linked her arm through Amy's, and they stepped up to the doorway. "Toodles." Another step and they were gone, then the doorway faded again.
Victoria dropped into the guest chair that Atropos had chosen not to take. "Well, that happened."
Carol sighed, going back over the conversation with Atropos and not liking the direction some parts of it had gone. "It did indeed."
Panacea
Amy wasn't sure where they were heading to; Atropos had given her zero clues beyond 'a team'. It took her a moment or so to get herself oriented and recognise the layout of the Wards base in the PRT building. It didn't help that there were more capes present than usual, including Armsmaster and Tenebrae.
Also present, for some reason, was the Deputy Director, Mr Renick. Amy had spoken to him a total of three times, and shaken his hand once that she could recall. He seemed a nice, grandfatherly type, or what she imagined to be a grandfatherly type.
"Atropos!" Miss Medic, whom Amy knew by another name altogether, came barrelling across the room and launched herself at the black-clad cape in a full-on glomp. Far removed from her Slaughterhouse Nine origins, she seemed happy and outgoing, truly thrilled to see Atropos.
"Hey, kiddo." Instead of being offended or angry at the pseudo-assault, Atropos went with it; her greeting sounded like she was amused. "All ready to roll?"
"Sure, sure!" Miss Medic let go Atropos and held up her arms. One of the Tinkertech bracers she was wearing, which Amy understood could pop out any surgical tool Miss Medic needed, flicked out a single scalpel then retracted it almost faster than the eye could see. "They're all charged up and the anaesthesia and antiseptic reservoirs are full. But I just wanted to introduce you to my teammates. They're amazing cool, and they've made me totally welcome here."
Atropos nodded. "Sure. I'd love to meet them. I've heard they're really nice people."
Amy watched in mild disbelief as Miss Medic led Atropos by the hand to the group of Wards standing off to the side. It appeared that Atropos had a soft spot for Miss Medic, something any number of people Amy knew would've utterly disbelieved even if they'd seen it with their own eyes.
"Hello, Panacea." She looked around to see Deputy Director Renick approaching her.
Tenebrae and Armsmaster seemed to be having a conversation, so there was nobody listening in on the two of them. "Mr Renick, it's nice to see you again."
"Likewise." Renick nodded toward Atropos and Miss Medic. "I presume you're coming along with Miss Medic and Tenebrae on this mission of Atropos'?"
"That's the idea." Amy wondered how much she should say, then figured that if Atropos had wanted her to stay quiet, she would've said something. "Apparently there's some kind of surgical thing that I've never done before, but Atropos said I'd have competent people along to help. I've heard Miss Medic is really good?" She knew she was pushing the boundaries a little with the semi-question, but it was a good idea to plant the idea that they'd never met.
Renick answered with a definitive nod. "We've brought in experts, and they say she's the best surgeon they've ever seen. I personally can't imagine a medical problem that the two of you couldn't handle between you."
"That's good. She seems like a nice kid. Enthusiastic." Amy was curious to hear Renick's views on Miss Medic's antics. "So how does she know Atropos, do you know?"
"Ah." The Deputy Director smiled. "They met through Atropos' fan club. Miss Medic is a member but doesn't advertise it, as are several other members of the Wards. You're probably aware that the PRT is quietly going along with whatever Atropos says. However, our public face requires us to not actually side with supervillains. So, while we don't forbid them from joining, we ask them not to put that membership up on social media in their cape identities." He seemed pleased with the solution.
"That makes sense." The sudden glare of a camera flash caught her eye, and she frowned. "Is that … does Atropos have a Polaroid camera?" Thinking back, she seemed to recall something like that from the first disastrous meeting with Atropos, but her concentration had been on other matters at the time.
"Oh, yes." Renick let out a paternal chuckle. "Ironically, they aren't going to be able to show those selfies off, especially if she signs them. But I don't think they care."
"No, I don't think they do." Amy saw that Atropos was heading back their way after having taken what looked like a group shot, with Miss Medic at her side. Tenebrae, too, had finished his conversation with Armsmaster and was moving to join them. "Whoops, looks like time to go."
Deputy Director Renick nodded. "Good luck."
"Thank you, sir." She looked up at Tenebrae, who was a good foot taller than her. He was also wearing a discreet body-camera. "Hi. I don't think we've met. Tenebrae, right?"
Tenebrae's voice was rich and deep. "Correct. And you'd have to be Panacea." He shook her hand, carefully. While she didn't think he was a Brute, there was still a lot of strength in that grip.
"That's me." She recalled Deputy Director Renick's words. "And you're coming with us?"
Atropos answered for him. "That's right. Now, I need to warn you of this. We will be picking up two more people before we get to our final destination. The portal will only stay open for a maximum of four seconds each time. When it closes, anything caught halfway through will be cut off. Six people can hustle quite a ways in four seconds, but you do not want to dawdle. I'll be going through last, so if I don't think someone ahead of me can make it, I'll pull you up, and if the portal closes without me, sit tight for the next couple of minutes. I will be coming through. Does anyone not understand?"
Amy glanced at the other two. Tenebrae looked doubtful but determined, while Miss Medic just looked eager to be on the way. When Atropos glanced her way, Amy nodded. "I got it. Four seconds from go to whoa." She would not be dragging her feet.
"Exactly." Atropos pointed at an empty section of wall. "Portal to PRT New York Director's office in three, two, one, now."
Right on cue, the shadowy doorway formed, up against the wall. Tenebrae went through first, at a fast jog, with Miss Medic right behind him. Amy was already keyed up so she basically jumped through, with Atropos beside her.
Atropos
It was a nice office.
I'd been here twice before, the first time explaining to Wilkins why she really shouldn't try to uncover my secret identity. Her next step would've been undoubtedly to try to target Dad and my (then non-existent) friends, which was why I'd put an End to that shit hard. The second time, I'd been notifying her that Flechette was coming to Canberra with me. She hadn't taken that visit well either.
Deputy (currently Acting) Director Henderson was standing by his desk, along with Legend, a teen wearing medieval-style armour, and Flechette herself.
Henderson came across to me as a paper-pusher who'd been elevated several layers beyond what he was comfortable handling. I had the distinct suspicion that Wilkins had deliberately picked him so he wouldn't second-guess the way she did the job. If that was the case, he was in for an interesting four months under Emily Piggot.
They seemed a little taken aback when four of us showed up instead of just me, but honestly, I couldn't be expected to explain every detail of my plans to them, right? A girl's gotta have an air of mystique about her. Otherwise, it just gets boring.
I waved cheerfully. "Oh, hey, Legend. Good to see you again, Flechette. Nice to meet you, Acting Director Henderson. Have you told them yet?"
Legend gave me a searching look. I could tell he'd figured out what I meant straight away. "Not yet. We're waiting on the announcement. Please don't spread it around willy-nilly." The look on his face asked me, how do you know?
"Wouldn't dream of it." I strode up to the last guy and stuck out my hand. "Hi. Atropos. You'd be Flechette's team leader, correct?"
"Ah, that's me." He flickered a glance at Legend, then hesitantly shook my hand. "Jouster. Are you really the one who put March in the hospital?"
I shrugged. There was no point in denying it. "Well, she hadn't used up her warnings yet, so yeah. I just needed her out of the way so Flechette could come do her thing at the fundraiser. I'm pretty sure that alone accounted for maybe ten, fifteen percent of the donations, so it was effort well spent." I gestured to Brian, Amy and Riley. "Have you met Tenebrae, Panacea and Miss Medic yet?"
"Well, no. I actually haven't." Taking the hint, he moved in their direction.
I switched my attention to the girl of the hour. "And how are you doing, anyway? Fame got to your head yet?"
She chuckled as she shook my hand. "Sometimes it feels that way. Before the Simurgh, to most of New York I was 'that girl with the crossbow', no matter how many times I explained it was an arbalest. Now, they all greet me by name and ask me to sign their trading cards. Image is planning a gold foil holographic version. I'm still getting my head around it."
"Just so long as they don't do one of me." I raised my eyebrows inside my mask. "Or if they do, just make it dead black on both sides."
"Seriously, why not?" She frowned, looking honestly puzzled. "I think it would go like absolute wildfire. You'd outsell everyone."
She wasn't wrong, but I still had my reasons for saying no. "Point one, trading cards are there to improve your visibility and get your name out there, right? If someone only ever saw you in the distance, they can get a trading card and learn more about you. People know who I am and what I can do. Point two, it commercialises your name. The people making them feel like they own a little bit of you. They can request that you don't change up your costume if they've got a popular run of cards, or that you do change up your costume if their run is starting to lag." I gestured at myself. "Not going to happen. Also, you know where I'd require all the profits to go to."
"Brockton Bay," she agreed with a nod. "Right, yeah. I don't even know if I get any return from trading cards. Even action figures only bring in about five or ten percent to the cape."
"Exactly. Not worth the effort. And you know I'm not in it for the fame." Becoming well-known had happened anyway, of course, mainly because I'd ganked some seriously infamous assholes. I wasn't averse to using it for my own ends and amplifying it over social media, but the fame had always been a byproduct and a tool, not an end in itself.
"Well, true." She looked over at where Jouster was chatting with the other three, the ice well and truly broken by now. As far as I could tell, he was asking if they knew what this was about, and they were replying with variations on 'I have no idea either'. "So, did you need me to bring anything along, like weapons?"
I considered the question. "Like I told you over the phone, it's a non-combat situation, but one dart could be handy." I knew I was being irritatingly vague, but I honestly didn't care. The big reveal was always fun.
Legend approached us, while Henderson hung back. I suspected he felt more than a little intimidated by me, probably because of Wilkins' attitudes. My strong impression was that she'd done her best to control the narrative coming in about me, so nobody under her would end up sympathetic to my goals. Unfortunately for her, that attitude had bitten her in the butt. It remained to be seen if Henderson could unlearn it in time.
"Atropos," Legend said as he came up to me. "Is there anything more you can tell me about what you're doing?"
"Not right this second." I gestured toward Brian. "As you can see, Tenebrae is wearing a body camera. He'll be recording the entire thing from beginning to end. But if this works out, and I think it will, a potentially troublesome villain will become a useful rogue, and isn't that the name of the game?" I had my reasons for the secrecy, of course. The wrong word in the wrong ear inside the PRT or the Protectorate, and my target might draw an erroneous conclusion and become even more uncooperative than normal.
"Hmm." He didn't quite glower at me. I could tell that he wanted to push harder but knew damn well it wouldn't do any good at all. "Well, good luck then."
"Thank you, sir." I held out my hand to shake. "Just so you know, I'm a big fan of your work."
He shook it. "As I am, of some of yours."
I grinned under the mask. "That's fair. If you'll just excuse me for a second?"
"Certainly." He stepped back as I took my phone out.
I sent two texts, then put it away again and I raised my voice. "Everyone coming with me, get ready. We're going to a suburban street. Same order as before. Flechette, the portal will last four seconds. You'll be following Miss Medic." I pointed at a wall of the office. "Three, two, one, go!"
On 'go', the shadowy doorway formed. Brian was already on the move, with Riley on his six. Flechette's power-based aptitude for timing showed up well here; she ducked through less than half a second behind Riley. Amy and I moved in unison, and made it through with more than a second to spare.
Flechette
Lily looked around with interest as the portal dissipated behind them. "Okay, where are we now? And is this where the villain is?" As Atropos had said, it was a quiet suburban street in a moderately affluent neighbourhood. Not exactly where she'd expect a villain to be hiding out.
Of course, she told herself a moment later, that would be exactly where a villain might choose to hide out, for that precise reason.
"Nope. We're picking up our last person here." Atropos gestured toward a house across the street. "Right there. Oh, and to answer your question, we're in Philly."
Lily was curious as to why Atropos had dropped them on the street rather than into the living room of the person they were going to take along. She didn't give the impression of someone who spent a lot of time worrying about what other people thought of her. There was a reason for it, she knew that much. What the reason was, she still wasn't sure.
They crossed the street, Atropos in the lead, and trooped up the front path of the house in question. In their range of costumes, from mostly black in Atropos' case, through purple for Lily, grey for Tenebrae and pastel camouflage for Miss Medic, to Panacea's white with red crosses, they looked dramatically out of place. A dog barked, several houses down.
Atropos pressed the doorbell; the chimes sounded inside the house. A moment later, too quickly for someone who hadn't been expecting visitors, the front door opened. With a shock, Lily recognised the bespectacled lady; Atropos had said there'd be someone she already knew, but she hadn't been expecting her Wards therapist. "Mrs Yamada?"
"My goodness," Jessica Yamada said. "Hello, Atropos, Panacea, Flechette. This is a pleasant surprise. Would you like to come in, or should I go out?"
"'In' is probably better." Atropos gestured to the neighbourhood. "We don't need everyone knowing what's going on."
"Very true." Mrs Yamada stood aside as they entered the house, then closed the door behind them. She turned to Miss Medic and Tenebrae. "I don't believe I've met you two before. Are you associates of Atropos?"
"Kinda," said Miss Medic, at the same time as Tenebrae shook his head. "Not really."
Mrs Yamada chuckled. "Well, that clears it all up."
Atropos sounded amused as she explained. "Miss Medic and Tenebrae are very new additions to the Brockton Bay Wards, but I also know them out of costume."
"Oh!" Mrs Yamada sounded enlightened as she looked again at Miss Medic. "I'd heard your name, but I didn't make the connection until now. I've heard good things about you. I apologise for the misunderstanding."
Atropos dusted her hands off in a businesslike fashion. "Well, that's the introductions out of the way. We'll be heading onward in a moment. Mrs Yamada, a portal is going to form in the middle of your living room, leading to a somewhat run-down street. Tenebrae and Miss Medic will be going first, followed by Flechette, yourself, and then me and Panacea. As soon as Flechette starts moving, follow her as quickly as you can, because the portal only lasts four seconds. Do you understand? If you don't think you can get through quickly enough, I can have Tenebrae pick you up and carry you."
Mrs Yamada looked up at Tenebrae, who certainly seemed buff enough to do exactly that. "I believe I can manage," she decided. "I follow Flechette through the portal."
Atropos may have smiled; Lily couldn't quite tell. "Exactly." She pointed to a spot on the floor. "Portal forming in three, two, one, go!"
Tenebrae and Miss Medic were definitely getting used to this; again, they were moving before the portal even opened. Lily matched her movements to Miss Medic's, following through exactly one-quarter of a second behind her. She kept moving on the other side to give Mrs Yamada room. Last came Atropos alongside Panacea, then the portal shut behind them.
Atropos
"Okay," said Brian, looking around. "'Run-down' is definitely the phrase I'd use, too." He wasn't far wrong; the asphalt was cracked and potholed, and random trash had accumulated in the gutters. "So, where's our villain?"
I held up a finger for silence, then led the way toward the nearest building, a dilapidated double-wide with a lawn that was mostly dirt. As we got closer, I heard the sound I was waiting for: a combination of a hollow boom and a screech not unlike fingernails on chalkboard. This was followed up by a vocal screech of frustration and a tirade of profanity that would've made even a hardened Dockworker raise an eyebrow in appreciation. Riley literally put her fingers in her ears.
The door that we were approaching was unlocked; or rather, the lock had been forced so many times that it was no longer useful as one. I knocked anyway, the sharp raps threatening to force the door to give up the ghost altogether.
"What the fuck?" Footsteps approached the door from the other side. "Who the fuck knocks around here? If you've come about the noise, you can fuck—"
The door opened, and Damsel of Distress stared at me. Her eyes went wide with horror.
"Hello, Ashley," I said politely. "May we come in?"
End of Part Sixty-Three
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone