章 2542: 4
Trump Card
Part 4
I did some thinking on the way home. A solo career was right out; unpowered, I would not be able to depend on there being someone with powers nearby.
So I would have to join a team of some sort, and soon; once word got out that a powerful Trump was in Brockton Bay, some would want to hire me and some would want to put me out of the way. Maybe permanently.
I could see why Director Piggot wanted me in the Wards; with my insights, I would not only be able to double-up on any powerset in the team, but I could help train new capes in the use of their powers.
But that wasn't going to happen; mainly it was about not wanting any sort of proximity to Sophia Hess, and partly about not wanting any part of the team that allowed her to get away with it for so long. But also partly because going into yet another rules-heavy environment loaded down with teen politics and drama was exactly what I didn't need at the moment.
"Kiddo?" Dad's voice broke into my reverie.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Any thoughts yet?"
I came to a decision. "Yeah, actually. Can we stop at a phone booth?"
I paged through the phone book, which was still surprisingly intact, until I found the number. Picking up the handpiece, I checked it for bubblegum or more noxious substances, then dialled.
"Hello, Mark Dallon speaking."
"Mr Dallon, hi. I'm calling about New Wave business."
His voice showed a little interest, but not much. "Very well. You have my attention. What's the problem?"
"Well, it's not really a problem as such. I, uh, I want to join New Wave."
That seemed to get his attention, all right.
"You are aware, are you not, that New Wave is not in the habit of taking recruitment?"
"Sure, I know that. But I figure that it's better to try and find out than to never try at all."
"Hm. You're also aware that you will be required to reveal your identity to the public as part of your membership?"
I was aware of this. I was also aware that this policy had led to the death of Fleur, and of Lightstar subsequently leaving the team, back in 2000 or so. Fleur's murderer had never been officially arrested, but some people had their doubts about whether the surviving members of New Wave would have bothered turning him over to the authorities. Certainly, no-one else from New Wave had been targeted since.
But that would be of little comfort to Fleur.
I looked out of the phone booth, at Dad. Could I risk his life? Did I dare take the chance that no-one would follow up my identity, decide to take out on Dad what they couldn't do to me? Heck, might they even hit me at home, take me out when I was unpowered?
The more I thought about it, the less I liked it.
"Are you still there, miss?"
I sighed. "Yes, I'm here. Sorry, I think I've been wasting your time. Thanks anyway."
"Have you considered the Wards?"
"I ... have my own reasons not to want to go into the Wards."
"Oh well. Best of luck then. Have a nice day."
"You too." I hung up, then looked at the phone.
Wow, I thought. He just didn't really care, did he?
Dad was waiting outside the phone booth, having heard my side of the conversation.
"So, didn't go so well?"
I shook my head. "No. I kind of forgot about the whole public identity thing, and how it would impact you."
He ruffled my hair. "That's okay, kiddo. I'm sure we'll have better luck elsewhere."
Mark Dallon put the phone down and leaned back on the couch. He felt vaguely as though he should have been more helpful to the girl, but he couldn't think how. I should really take my medication, he told himself.
But he didn't do that, either.
Hours later, when Vicky and Amy got home, he was still watching TV.
He had totally forgotten about the phone call.
Dad took me home, and started putting together a cold lunch, while I sat on the couch and brooded. There were three superhero teams in Brockton Bay; I was too young for the Protectorate proper, I didn't want to go into the Wards, and joining New Wave would mean outing myself and putting Dad in danger.
And I wasn't about to go out there on my own, for obvious reasons.
Worse, if any of the criminal groups heard of me, I'd be vulnerable. The truth was, I was too powerful to be let alone, but not powerful enough to force people to let me alone. And even if the PRT opted not to force the issue, I could not be certain that Emma and her cronies, or even Sophia on her own, might not 'accidentally' let something slip. How could I know for certain that someone wouldn't come after Dad, or even me, when I was unpowered?
The answer was, I couldn't.
When I first got these powers, I had thought them to be a boon. Now, I saw them for what they really were; a white elephant. Far more trouble than they were really worth.
It was a conundrum and a puzzle; a two-edged sword.
How do I get out of this mess?
Dad called me into the kitchen for lunch. We sat, and ate, and made desultory conversation. Dad carried the most of it, while I continued to try to work out a way out of the dilemma, only paying occasional attention to his words.
" ... TV spot," he finished saying, and I realised that I'd missed everything else he had said.
"Sorry, what was that?" I asked apologetically.
"Well," he repeated, "if we wanted to get damages out of the school for all the crap they let those girls put you through, I have a friend in the media, and she might be able to swing us a TV spot. Maybe something on Youtube. Raise public awareness."
"Unless we outed Sophia, our position would look pretty weak," I pointed out. "And if we outed her, her family would be in danger, and we'd be in deep legal trouble."
"We could run it as a straightforward bullying case," he suggested. "Let Blackwell try to squirm her way out of that."
"Mr Barnes is a lawyer," I reminded him; from his grimace, he hadn't needed the reminder. "If we start saying things about Emma ..."
"He's a lawyer, but he's also my friend," Danny objected. "Surely he'd be able to see reason?"
I pointed at the phone. "You could call him, see what he says?"
He nodded; while I ate and thought, he got up to go to the phone. There was something that was nagging at me, something Dad had said. Something significant. A clue to a solution.
The phone call was short and to the point; Dad did not do much talking. When he put the receiver down, his face was pale; whether with anger or with something else, I wasn't sure.
"Not good?" I asked.
He shook his head. "That slimy, two-faced, double-dealing ..."
Anger. It was definitely anger.
"Lawyer?" I suggested.
"That sonofabitch!" he exploded. "He threatened me with court, with bankruptcy, if I ever tried to make a thing of it! I thought he was my friend!"
I nodded sadly. "Welcome to my world, Dad," I told him. "Welcome to my world."
Slowly he sat back down in his seat, looking slumped, defeated. "What do we do, kiddo?" he asked quietly. "He's got the game rigged; no matter what we do, we'll lose."
And that was the final clue that I needed. About ten seconds later, the pieces fitted together behind my eyes with an almost audible click.
"Nothing, Dad," I replied, slowly. "We do nothing. Because there's nothing legal we can do."
He looked at me oddly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I got up, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and headed into the front hall.
"Where are you going?" he called after me.
"Just to my room," I reassured him as I trotted up the stairs. "I've got to get online. I need to check something out."
If I'm right, I may just have solved both my problems at once. If I'm wrong ...
I didn't want to think about how badly it could go if I was wrong.
End of Part 4
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