Capítulo 1769: 64
Chapter 64
A Darker Path
Part Sixty-Four: Rehabilitation
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Relevant Side-Story: When Taylor's Not Home ... by Masterweaver
"Hey Dadny, Danny, I said Danny, you, uh, want to watch a movie while we wait for Taylor to get back?"
Danny looked at Cherie, raising an eyebrow.
"...Cause like..." Cherie gestured. "Lotta movies. And stuff."
"Sure." Danny nodded. "You know you can talk with me about anything right?"
"Anything I want?"
"Yep."
"Which means if I don't want to talk about anything," Cherie clarified, "I don't have to?"
"Nope," Danny agreed.
"Good. Uh. Movie." Cherie looked through the selection. "Oh! Hey, here's something, 'The Little Mermaid.' I remember a lot of us would get mermaid dolls. And outfits."
She paused.
"...let's not watch this one, actually."
"Alright." Danny nodded, and Cherie pretended to ignore the brief flare of protection/fury/grief she felt from him. "Hmmm... How about Beauty and the Beast? It was one of Annette's favorites."
"Yeah okay, that sounds good." Cherie located the appropriate movie and put it in. "What's it about?"
"The transformative nature of love. And geeks."
"...what?"
Danny smirked. "Just watch..."
We Now Return You to Your Unreal Life ...
Damsel of Distress
Life sucked hard, in all the wrong ways.
Ashley had managed to scrounge an actual working microwave she just found sitting on top of a dumpster, and there'd been a stack of frozen pizzas left on her doorstep for some reason (she wasn't going to think too hard about it, because that would just piss her off). She'd put the first pizza in the oven and watched it going around and around, her stomach grumbling harder and harder while she anticipated her first bite of real hot food in actual fucking days. Just the smell alone had her almost drooling.
And then, after it had finished, she'd opened the microwave and gone to take the pizza out carefully, but a drop of melted cheese had stung her finger. Her hand spasmed, and the power surge took out the pizza plus half the microwave, and blew a hole in the wall beyond. Lying against the opposite wall of the kitchen where the unexpected blast had thrown her, she wanted to cry, but Damsel of Distress did not cry. Instead, she channelled that energy into rage; swearing, ranting and denying the hot prickly feeling behind her eyelids.
The worst thing was, unless she could get hold of a working stove, or fluke another microwave, the pizzas were useless to her. The last time she'd just tried to thaw a microwave pizza and eat it raw, she'd been stuck on the shitter for three days, in between throwing up so hard she tasted blood. She was tempted to destroy the whole house and move along, taking only her few knick-knacks and her precious TV, but right now she didn't think she could even carry that too far.
And then came the knock on the door. Who the fuck knocked around here, anyway? If it was the PRT, they'd kick in the door and spray her down with containment foam. The cops wouldn't bother. And she didn't have any neighbours. Still ranting, she threw the door open … and stopped.
It was Atropos. The one person Ashley was legitimately scared of. Other people pissed her off, but only one person had ever stuck a gun in her face and made her back off. Even then, she might have gotten over that feeling and gone looking for revenge … right up until she saw the footage of Atropos just fucking casually murdering the Simurgh. That was a whole new level of 'fuck no'.
"Hello, Ashley. May we come in?"
Instinctively, even before she saw the strap of the shoulder holster under Atropos' coat, Ashley crossed her arms, putting her hands under her armpits. Atropos didn't have a gun in her hand, but Ashley recalled all too vividly how fast she'd pulled one out and put it to Edict's head. The microwave was a distant memory, the pizza entirely forgotten. Ashley's entire thought process right now revolved around not dying, which meant not giving Atropos even the shadow of an excuse.
"I haven't done anything!" She was not going to beg for her life, but pointing out that she hadn't broken Atropos' rules was just fine. "If someone says I did, they're lying!"
"Nobody says you did," Atropos said. She still wasn't pointing a gun at Ashley. Her goddamn shears were still in their sheath. Maybe she wasn't here to kill Ashley just yet. "I'm here to help. May we come in?"
The 'we' bugged Ashley until she dragged her eyes away from the blank-faced spectre before her and took in the other people behind Atropos. Big guy, little girl, purple costume, white with red crosses. And some woman with glasses. She knew of Panacea, but that was about it. The rest of them—wait. The girl in the purple costume was the one who'd helped Atropos kill the Simurgh. Ashley began hyperventilating all over again.
Atropos had asked a question. Ashley didn't want to piss her off any more than she was right then. Something about … coming in? Fuck it, Atropos could kill her just as easily inside the house as outside. "Yeah, uh, come in or whatever you want." She stepped back, trying not to trip over anything because there was no way in fuck she was taking her hands out from under her arms.
"Thank you." Atropos stepped inside the front door and started moving into the house, moving her head like she was looking around. Ashley wasn't one to give a fuck about what other people thought of her lifestyle, but right then she felt intensely judged. "Everyone, meet Ashley Stillons, otherwise known as Damsel of Distress. Ashley, meet Panacea, Tenebrae, Flechette, Mrs Jessica Yamada, and Miss Medic."
Panacea actually seemed to give Ashley a sympathetic look as she went past. Tenebrae nodded gravely. They understood, at least. She got half a smile from Flechette, the purple-costumed girl who'd helped kill the Simurgh, but that was it.
The Yamada woman had a friendly expression; she didn't say anything, but she definitely didn't look like she was here to kill anyone. Last came the little girl wearing the pseudo-military scrubs. "Hi! Are you the one we're here to help?"
"She is," Atropos confirmed. "Panacea, Miss Medic; Ashley here has power incontinence. Her blasts can erase basically anything from existence, but she can't always control when they come out. What I've brought you here to do is look at her arms and hands, and see if you can't figure out something between you to give her the control she needs. Tenebrae, make sure you get all this, okay? Mrs Yamada, Ashley's got a strong case of what I call supervillain fixation. I'm certain she could benefit from whatever assistance you could give her. But first, let's give the healers some room to work."
"And what about me?" asked Flechette. "I'm not a surgeon, a healer, or a powers expert. CPR's about my speed, and I doubt I can do better than Miss Medic or Panacea in that regard."
"Oh, I'm sure we'll find something for you to do." From the tone of Atropos' voice, she'd already figured out what that 'something' was, though Ashley had no idea what it might be. It made her feel a little better that none of the others knew either.
Under Atropos' coaching, they dragged the one good table to a spot under the one good light, then Ashley sat down next to it on the one good chair. And there she sat, with her hands still under her arms.
"Uh … you're going to have to take your hands out for us to look at them," Miss Medic ventured.
"Not until Atropos says it's okay." Ashley didn't need anyone's permission to do a goddamn thing, but she had no desire to die over a stupid fucking misunderstanding.
"One at a time," Atropos ruled. "And only point them at that side of the house. Everyone else, stay away from that side of the house." She indicated the grungiest side of the living room, where Ashley didn't go anyway. "Left hand first."
Cautiously, Ashley leaned forward and placed her left elbow on the table, then eased her hand out from under her armpit, trailing her hand across her chest and face until it pointed straight up, then laid her forearm and hand palm-up on the table. She didn't give a damn if anyone thought she looked like an idiot. There were more important things at stake, like her own survival.
Panacea leaned over the table from the right, Miss Medic from the left. "Can you handle blood flow and pain?" asked Miss Medic. "I want to open it up and see." For a moment, Ashley thought the girl was addressing her, then she felt Panacea lay a hand on her arm.
"Sure thing. Hold still, Ashley. This might feel a little strange." Her arm lost a little sensation as Miss Medic's bracer flicked out a scalpel.
The first cut looked like it should have hurt, but all she felt was a little tugging. More cuts followed, each precise, opening her forearm open like an anatomy lesson. "Hmm," murmured Miss Medic. "See that? I think the channels get a little wonky going into the wrist." She indicated with a needle-sharp probe that still only felt like dull pressure to Ashley.
Having no desire to watch this anymore, Ashley focused on the far wall. She really wanted to close her eyes, but her ego wouldn't allow her to go that far.
"Now that you mention it, I think you're right." Panacea had barely moved, but her hand remained on Ashley's bicep. "If I'm reading this right, it gets worse as it goes inward. All those cramped joints and flex points."
"Let's see, now." The scalpel flickered again in her peripheral vision, and Ashley guessed that her hand had been opened up as easily as her arm had. Miss Medic nodded. "You're right. It's a mess. As it is, I'm not sure how we can fix it. It's either zero or one hundred, but the pressure has to be a hundred all the time to make that work."
"Like evolution," Panacea said. "Every living creature today comes from genes that were just barely good enough to survive to breed. This setup was just barely good enough for the power to work, so that's what it went with." She frowned. "There's got to be a way to make this work better."
"If there is, I can't see it." Miss Medic prodded with the probe. "See that? If her hands were immobilised or only had two or three positions, we could set it up so the energy channels didn't get kinked or blocked, but hands are the most flexible things on the human body. I can only think of two ways to do it, and I'm not sure that the second one is even possible."
"Well, what's the first one?" Panacea's tone of voice indicated that she was here for the duration. "Maybe we can make that work."
Miss Medic took a deep breath. "If I was doing it quick and dirty—which I'm not in favour of—I'd amputate her hands and install prosthetics. Stretch her skin over them so she has feeling, and rejigger the energy channels so they have a straight run. Her power would work every time."
"But she'd have prosthetic hands," Panacea noted. "Which would require regular maintenance. Let's not go there. What's the other way?"
"Yes, please," Ashley said, trying not to sound too sarcastic to the people talking about amputating her hands. "What is the other way?"
"The other way is to somehow salvage the current energy channels." Miss Medic bit her lip, apparently thinking. "But the only way I can see to make that work is to install some kind of wave guides, to make sure the energy doesn't get lost or absorbed, so it would go straight through the channel every time. The trouble is, her blasts destroy everything. There's nothing we can make wave guides out of."
Ashley blinked. "Yes, there is." She normally wouldn't have been talking this much, but they were wrong. "Sometimes when I destroy something, there's a little tiny remnant left behind. My power doesn't destroy it. I collect them." She nodded to the bag containing her keepsakes and trinkets, stashed in the corner. "They look like twisted bits of rock and wood." Then her heart fell again. "… shit."
"What?" asked Miss Medic. "What's the matter?" She honestly seemed to care, which was weird. Nobody had cared about what happened to Ashley for years now.
"They're really, really hard. I don't know of anything that can cut them precisely enough to use that way." Ashley's shoulders wanted to slump, but she refused to let them. "If you can't shape them, you can't make these wave guides out of them, and we're back to no good options."
Flechette smiled. It was the smile of someone who finally knew their purpose in life. "We'll see about that."
With a few of the chunks of blast-condensed material on the table, Miss Medic and Panacea began a lively discussion on the exact shape and distribution of the wave guides within Ashley's wrist and hand. Flechette could apparently, using just a normal blade, slice off a piece of the normally intractable material then shape it according to the specifications given by the two healers, down to the fraction of an inch.
The first few took a couple of false starts, but after that they got into the groove of it. Flechette became better and better at carving the condensed matter to the correct specifications, and before Ashley knew it, they were closing up her left hand and arm, all the 'wave guides' in place. She stared at her skin; it looked no different than before. Thanks to Panacea, there weren't even any scar lines.
"Well?" prompted Atropos, and gestured at the target wall. "Something small, if you don't mind. I already know you can do big."
"Uh … right." Ashley held out her left hand and tentatively flexed it through its normal range of motion. Nothing fired off unexpectedly. She tried it again, more violently, with the same lack of result. Then she pointed her fingers and deliberately exerted her power, trying for a low-end result.
A tight beam of energy erupted from her fingertips and punched a quarter-sized hole out of the wall. She barely felt the recoil.
Ashley was vaguely aware of Miss Medic, Panacea and Flechette giving each other high-fives behind her back as she cupped just the fingers of that hand and summoned a ball of destructive energy, holding it with ease. There was no awkwardness, no feeling of barely held control. It was smooth.
"Nice," Atropos said, as Ashley dismissed the ball. "How does your hand feel?"
With growing confidence, Ashley flexed her hand again; part of her mind insisted that she could detect the wave guides in there, but she was pretty sure that was just her imagination. "Good. Great. Doesn't hurt." She looked sharply up at Atropos. "What's the price for all this?"
"Price?" Atropos made a go-on gesture.
"Yeah, price. You don't do shit for nothing. Nobody does, but you do it even less than everyone else. When you offed the Simurgh, you got two billion out of it. What's your price for bringing everyone here and doing this?" Ashley knew there had to be a catch. Whatever it was, she'd be comfortable saying no, even if it meant using her left hand for everything for the rest of her life.
"That you listen to my offer." Atropos raised a finger. "Not that you take it, just that you listen to it. Okay?"
Just listening to an offer was something Ashley could totally do. "Shoot." A moment later, she winced, considering who it was she was talking to.
Atropos may have smiled. "The last time you came to Brockton Bay, I sent you away at gunpoint. Once both your hands are fixed, I'll be inviting you back and offering you a job. Good money, good accommodation."
Ashley blinked. "A job? Doing what?" She held up her hand. "I blow things up, remember?"
"Why, yes. You do." Atropos' tone was somewhat facetious by now. "Brockton Bay is undergoing a multi-billion-dollar renovation, from the ground up. There will be structures galore that need demolition. We'll have wrecking balls and shot-firers, but there will also be a niche for someone who can just point their finger and get it done. Now, where can someone who blows things up get a job in all that, I wonder?"
"Ah. Right. And you can pay me?" Money was always nice. It was kind of why Ashley had gone into crime. That, and the feeling of power.
When Atropos spoke next, the facetious tone was entirely absent. "Take the correct safety courses, and you'll start at a shot-firer's wage. That's good money. You can live in free assigned accommodation, which is comfortable but unimaginative, or you can splash out with your own cash and rent your own." She shrugged. "It's all up to you. All you have to do is follow the rules. Oh, and if you do decide to come into Brockton Bay, you will be assigned a therapist and you will have to attend sessions." She indicated Mrs Yamada. "She'll be able to give you an idea of what that's like, going forward."
"Um." Well, damn. "Can I think about it for a bit?" Being her own boss and doing crime was something she'd wanted to do for quite some time, and once her hands were fixed, that would be a real possibility. On the other hand, though, a guaranteed well-paying job in what was rapidly becoming the richest city in the northeast US also rated thinking about. Especially if the job involved doing what she was really good at.
"Sure. Get that other hand fixed while you're thinking." Atropos stepped back, metaphorically removing herself from the conversation.
Slowly, Ashley placed her right hand on the table. Just as the back of her hand touched down, she must have hit the wrong nerve because energy shredded the end of the table and flared across the room to blow out most of the wall on that side. Knocked backward by the recoil so she landed heavily on her back, she lay there frozen as the night breeze flooded in, waiting for the bullet in the face.
"And that is why we don't stand on that side of the table," Atropos remarked into the silence that followed. She reached down and grasped Ashley's left hand—Ashley's right hand was tucked under her arm again—and helped her to her feet. "Carry on."
The surgery went a lot faster this time. Panacea and Miss Medic knew exactly what they were looking for, and Flechette was carving out blanks for the wave guides ahead of time, shaping them to fit with her knife and a metal lawn-dart looking weapon. The teamwork and cohesion was impressive, each of them fully aware of their role. Ashley, morbidly fascinated, watched them lay the wave guides into place and lock them down, aware that it was her arm and hand they were cutting apart and putting back together but unable to emotionally process it.
"And that should do it," announced Miss Medic happily. "Panacea?"
The New Wave healer nodded, a smile beginning to break out across her face as well. "I think so. It all feels right, anyway. Flechette?"
"Wave guide count matches, left to right." Flechette gave a thumbs-up. "I think we're done here too."
"Closing up now," Panacea announced. One by one, the incisions came together and vanished. Even watching it, Ashley could not see where they'd been. "Okay, give it a try."
Drawing a deep breath, Ashley held out both hands. Left hand, then right hand, then both; energy blasts shot from them out through the hole in the wall. Her fine control was astonishing, compared to what it had been like before. And when she flexed both hands, nothing happened.
I've finally got my life back. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but once more she refused to let them fall. She still had her self-esteem, and she was not going to cry over this, damn it!
And that was when she smelled the most heavenly odour she'd ever experienced. Or perhaps that was just the hunger speaking. Turning, she saw Atropos stepping out of a shadowy doorway that didn't exist in the house, carrying a couple of bulging shopping bags.
"My father always advised me to never make important decisions on an empty stomach." Atropos set one of the bags down on the table in front of Ashley. "I made a food run. The nearest gas station had pizza pockets in their warmer. Thought you might like some."
Ashley tried to stay strong, but her stomach audibly growled at the smell. Pride be damned, she was starving. Yanking open the bag, she grabbed the first pizza pocket, not caring that it scorched her fingers, and took a heavenly bite out of it. The cheese was still hot, but she didn't give a good goddamn; she made a keening noise of pure pleasure as she swallowed.
As she gorged herself on pizza pockets, Ashley was vaguely aware of Atropos handing out snacks to everyone else. She didn't care: these were her pizza pockets. At some point, a large bottle of Mountain Dew ended up on the table in front of her, seemingly abandoned to its fate.
"So, let me see if I have this straight," Mrs Yamada was saying once Ashley surfaced from her feeding frenzy long enough to pay attention. "You walked into a gas station, in costume, and they sold you the food?" She sounded both bemused and amused, all at the same time.
"Absolutely. They were actually willing to just give it to me, in return for a selfie." Atropos was just amused. "But I paid them anyway. Setting an example, you know."
Ah. Ashley had lost track of the number of times she'd used her powers to terrify convenience store owners to hand over food and empty the till, and walked out laughing. Atropos had the power to do that ten times over, and still chose to pay.
She didn't feel ashamed, exactly. Shame was one of those things she didn't do. But she did feel that she was being measured, judged, against an arbitrary scale of not being a horrible fucking human being, and that she herself was the one doing the judging.
Grabbing up the bottle of Mountain Dew, she unscrewed the cap and drank from the neck, not caring if anyone saw her. She could even hold it with both hands and not have to worry about her fucking powers destroying it mid-gulp. That had totally happened before, but not anymore. Not ever again.
When she lowered the bottle, she saw Atropos looking at her. She let out a gassy belch that made her sinuses sting, then set the bottle down and screwed on the cap. "What?"
"You probably haven't come to a decision yet." Atropos sounded fine with that. "But I'm going to have to start getting the others back in about five minutes. So, I'll be taking Panacea and Miss Medic and Tenebrae and Flechette outside so you can have a one-on-one with Mrs Yamada before we go. Also, I'll leave you the number for the Betterment Committee for if you decide to accept the job. Okay?"
"Sure. How do you know I won't just go back to being a villain?" She felt greatly daring when she said this, but Atropos hadn't shot her for the accidental blast, so she took the gamble.
"If that's what you choose. You won't be killing people accidentally, not anymore." Atropos lowered her voice slightly. "Just remember: villains aren't welcome in my city." Turning, she gestured to the four people she'd mentioned and led them outside.
The second-best chair had a wobbly leg, but Mrs Yamada carried it over to the table anyway and sat down. "So," she said. "What did you want to know?"
Atropos
"Do you really trust her not to hurt Mrs Yamada?" Lily sounded worried.
"I trust her self-preservation instincts," I said dryly. "She knows I'd kill her in a heartbeat if she did anything stupid like that. And Mrs Yamada is very good at talking to capes. This is Ashley's best chance to break out of this cycle, and make something of herself. I can't talk her into it, but she can talk herself into it, with the right motivation."
Riley gave me a cynical look that belonged on a much older face. "You knew we'd need wave guides, didn't you? That's why you brought Flechette along."
"I have no idea what you mean." I was lying through my teeth, but that was fine; they knew damn well I was lying. "It was a total accident. Absolute fluke."
Tenebrae snorted. "I'm just the guy with the body camera, and even I know that's bullshit. You knew every move that was going to happen, before it happened."
I made as though to answer, then held up a finger as a car rolled down the street and stopped opposite us. The doors opened, and Edict and Licit got out. They started across the street, looking worried.
"Hi," I said cheerfully. "Everyone, meet Edict and Licit. I see you got my texts." I kept my voice down, so Ashley wouldn't hear what I was saying.
"What's going on here?" asked Edict. "Why are you standing outside Damsel's place?"
"And why is there a hole in the wall?" added Licit. "What have you been doing? Did you come all this way to finish the job?"
I sighed. "Geez, kill off a few dozen criminals and all of a sudden, everyone thinks I murder every criminal I meet. Guys, she's not only alive but she's better off than ever." I would've rolled my eyes if anyone was able to see them.
Edict looked at me suspiciously. "What, exactly, does that mean?"
"It means," Brian interjected crisply, "that under Atropos' direction, Miss Medic and Panacea, with Flechette's assistance, fixed her power incontinence problem. Her power works just fine now. Right now, she's having a brief talk with a counsellor to see if she's willing to come work in Brockton Bay for the Betterment Committee. She's arrogant and snarky, but I'm pretty sure that's her natural state of being."
I mentally nodded; I was pretty sure I couldn't have put it better myself.
They both focused on him for the first time. For someone who was seventeen going on eighteen, he stood a good head (and sometimes shoulders) over most grown men. "And you are?" asked Licit.
"Tenebrae, Brockton Bay Wards. This is Miss Medic, same." Brian put a protective hand on his cousin's shoulder.
Lily raised her chin. "Flechette, New York Wards."
Amy put her hand up. "Panacea, New Wave. We really did fix her hands."
"Okay, then." Edict frowned. "So why exactly did you text us to come in when it was all over?"
"So you'd know about it." That part should've been obvious. "I'd advise you to leave her to think about her options over the next few days. I gave her some foodstuffs so she won't run out for a day or so. She, uh, blew up the microwave you left for her to find."
Licit facepalmed. "Goddamn it."
"But her hands are okay now?" asked Edict. "She doesn't blow stuff up accidentally anymore?"
"No, just on purpose." I grinned behind the mask. "With a healthy dose of luck, she'll decide to come to Brockton Bay to work. And then you'll be able to transfer elsewhere, whee." Neither of them looked thrilled at that concept, but it really wasn't my problem. "So anyway, it's about time I went and grabbed Mrs Yamada, and we got out of your hair. Have a nice night."
"Right," muttered Licit.
I headed back to the house and knocked on the door-frame. "Coming in!" Giving it a three-count, I pushed the door open and walked in.
Ashley and Mrs Yamada both looked around at me; from the body language, they'd been deep in conversation of one sort or another before I interrupted. "Time to go?" asked Mrs Yamada.
"It's getting on to eight, yes," I confirmed. "The others have a curfew of sorts, and I don't want to get them in bad with their bosses." The PRT was more likely to cooperate with me on the big stuff if I didn't screw them over on the little stuff. Also, I had dessert waiting on me.
"Understood. Well, Ashley, you have my number." Mrs Yamada rose from the table. "I've actually been offered a job in Brockton Bay, which I'm still considering. It may well be that we'll end up doing this on a regular basis."
"And here's the Betterment Committee number," I added, skimming another card across the table to Ashley's hand. "Call anytime. They'll pay for your bus ticket."
Ashley snorted. "Better deal than I got last time." Her self-esteem, I could tell, was still recovering from the way I'd just walked in and overturned her life; or rather, set it back on its feet. This was the closest I'd ever get to a 'thank you' from her.
"You're welcome. Take care." Waiting just long enough for Mrs Yamada to exit before me, I left Damsel of Distress behind.
Whichever way she jumped, I knew I could handle it. She wouldn't dare approach Brockton Bay as a villain, but if she came in as a rogue, she would truly be able to make something of herself.
It was all up to her, now.
Panacea
The return trip had been a mirror of the outbound one, but somewhat in reverse. Atropos had dropped Mrs Yamada off first, then Flechette, then Tenebrae and Miss Medic. It had been nice to talk to Miss Medic, to get to know the person she'd been before she became Bonesaw. The longer they spent chatting, the less she resented the semi-extortion Atropos had used to get her to do the work she'd done on the Slaughterhouse Nine villain.
However, instead of teleporting into the living room of her house, or even into her bedroom—God knew, Atropos had never had a problem with that before—they ended up on the sidewalk outside the house. "What's up?" she asked.
"Remember that stuff I asked you to make?" Atropos paused as Amy frowned, unable to make the connection. "The metal and plastic eating bug?"
"Oh. Yeah." Amy remembered now. It had been a long night. "I've made a few tiny samples, but we've never had the chance to get together and work out safety protocols."
"I know." Atropos sounded unfazed by that. "I've figured out exactly what I need it to do." In a few brief sentences, she outlined her requirements. "Can you do that?"
"Oh, that's easy." The best bit was, it didn't have a long lifespan. "That's it? How much?"
"Won't need a lot." Atropos told her why.
Atropos
It was with profound relief that I teleported into the living room. I'd known Dad and Cherie were on the sofa, so I showed up out of the way of the TV for them. "Hi, I'm home."
Dad paused the DVD of what looked like Beauty and the Beast. "How'd it go?"
I took my hat and mask off, and shook out my hair. "Well, either I just unleashed a new and improved version of Damsel of Distress on the New Hampshire criminal underworld, or the Betterment Committee will be getting a new cape on their roster. Time will tell."
Cherie stood up from the sofa, and gave me a hug. "I have faith in your ability to persuade."
I returned the hug, enjoying the closeness. It was nice to just relax and be me. "She's pretty headstrong. Just saying. Now, I've been waiting on my dessert for the last hour."
"Sorry." Cherie grinned broadly. "You took too long, so I ate it."
I raised my eyebrows. "You do realise that I am armed and dangerous, right?"
She stuck her tongue out at me. "It was delicious."
Dad sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's in the fridge."
"That's better." Pretending to mutter and mumble to myself, I headed into the kitchen. "You just wait. Next time, I'll eat your dessert."
She giggled and sat back down on the sofa, leaving room for me. "I'd like to see you try."
It was good to be home.
End of Part Sixty-Four
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