Awakening 1.05
The evening had not ended as pleasantly as it had began for one Director Emily Piggot. The Hebert situation was finally looking that it would be handled in the near future, and things were back to operating well enough despite the loss of Shadow Stalker. It had been with this knowledge that she had gone to bed.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Murphy had decided to revisit his vile existence upon her, as she had been woken up in the middle of the night to the news that the E88 had made an attempt to recruit Hebert.
Why they had done that was still up for analysis, but the fact that they had was something that she needed the answers to – yesterday. Up until last night, Hebert had rated rather low on any recruitment scale Emily could think of, because there didn't exist enough information to form an adequate basis for her power set; and, of course, she'd been publicly outed. For the E88 to possibly risk open warfare with the ABB by deploying Crusader and Hookwolf into their territory for something that, on the surface, seemed like a propaganda play made no sense whatsoever. Kaiser was not an idiot, and he didn't take risks unless he felt like they were worth it. So what had the E88 known that the PRT did not?
That wasn't even the biggest problem – it was only one facet to the shit crystal that had been tossed into her lap. The other was why she was back in her office, barely refraining from giving into the urge to verbally tan the hide of the team leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.
What Armsmaster did had not been wrong, in the grand scheme of things. If she were to be honest, in any other circumstances, she would be applauding him for his involvement in the capture of Victor and Othala. Unfortunately, this wasn't any of those other circumstances: while the ends justified the means, it was the related cost that was causing far too many complications.
But there was a reason why she had been put in charge of arguably the worst Protectorate district—too many villains, not enough heroes, and a slowly collapsing economy—and that was because she was a survivor, both in the physical and political sense. She understood what was necessary in the face of a difficult situation. It was why in the face of the likes of Lung, Kaiser, and being horribly outnumbered in the ratio of capes and villains, she had held the line far better than she'd had any right to.
Of course, those successes came at a cost. Politically, she had few allies in and out of Brockton Bay, with only her successes earning her the leeway to operate as she has been. Furthermore, her health, which was already poor as a result of Nilbog, suffered further as the long and fraught hours of her job consumed almost all of her time.
Regardless of success and cost, what mattered now was deciding upon how to defuse this situation, especially since it had already gone live on PHO. It was disgusting how easy information proliferated without restraint in this technological age. More often than not the entire world knew what was going on before she heard about it in briefing. Such was the power of modern telecommunications.
Despite her misgivings on the ease of informational dissemination, in this case that her job was made easier. While there were some questions marks on PHO about Armsmaster's actions, much of the condemnation seemed to be focused upon the E88 – they'd come to Hebert's house, they'd brought the guns, they'd started using them, and that was enough for the average Joe. So any public relations response was merely a matter of reinforcing this condemnation by framing it with the right amount of emphasis.
Handling Armsmaster's actions was the easy part. It was the other half of the equation that was the reason she was considering her options: Taylor Hebert.
She actually felt pity for the girl. Parahuman or otherwise, Hebert had gotten the raw end of the stick: being exposed as a cape to the entire world and her father being claimed by the insanity that had permeated this world since Scion had appeared. From everything Miss Militia had said, the girl had seemed to be pleasant, and decently intelligent, even if she did seem jaded to the world, but that was understandable if the reports from Winslow High were to be believed. A much better person than Shadow Stalker; if Piggot could have swapped them, she would have.
Nonetheless, Taylor Hebert was the crux of the current issue. While she now had a significant degree of interest in recruiting Hebert into the Wards thanks to the revelations of several new abilities, it would have been far easier if she had the leverage of Danny Hebert in order to gain it. Unfortunately—for everyone involved—Mr. Hebert had been the only casualty last night, and that made it significantly more difficult to recruit Miss Hebert… or, at least, it'd take a lot longer than she'd like. Acquiring the girl was not in doubt—it would happen, as soon as possible—but the how of it was a little more complicated. Even if it was in the girl's best interest.
Nobody should suffer through a loss like that alone. The military certainly hadn't been that cruel when Emily had lost her whole team to Nilbog.
Back to the point, the reason it would be more difficult to recruit her now was because of cape law itself: even nearly thirty years after the first cape had appeared, it was still an extremely murky field. There were rulings here or there, but the problem was law was an accrual of individual cases that built a foundation for further rulings. Individual cases that were missing in several instances they couldn't be if you wanted to provide a core superstructure that could field various facets of law as necessary. Sure, there existed laws in the realm of normal citizens, but when there were a class of citizens who could also be classified as weapons, existing case law wasn't necessarily applicable until directly challenged and clarified.
As a result, there was no doubt in her mind that she could get an injunction in the custody of Hebert; while the young woman had grandparents on her paternal side, the courts were not going to award custody of a cape to them due to their age. With that established, it was only a matter of applying the right amount of pressure and legal finagling, while keeping a facade of being only interested in Hebert's best interests.
Not that it was a facade, exactly: in Emily's firm opinion it was in the girl's best interests if she lived life as a hero under the Protectorate's support structure—including the psychologists the Youth Guard would no doubt insist on and that Taylor Hebert would desperately need—rather than lose herself to villainy or waste her powers and potential as a rogue (which strayed onto the side of villainy fairly often anyway, in her experience). Recruiting Hebert was the best possible result for both of them. Best possible, not best actual, of course; that would be if her father was still alive.
The only issue that might crop up was the state. The relationship between the Protectorate and the state was tremulous at best. It all came down to power, and, unfortunately, governments were rather jealous and stingy about retaining power. They had only unwillingly given it to the Protectorate in the first place as they were poorly equipped for villainous capes at the time, and it just so happened the Protectorate had been ina position to deal with them. Now, though, the state had begun chafing at the bit that there was a paramilitary organization of capes and their supporting staff that did not necessarily fall under its jurisdiction: their charter rested with the federal government instead.
That meant the question was this: would they intervene in an unforeseen way, or would they simply provide her the means to succeed? She was honestly unsure, especially considering some of the mutterings out of the capital as of late.
Cupping her chin as she considered her options, she eventually came to a decision, springing to action as she began typing several memos to forward both up the chain, but also to several of her contacts in the government.
It was just as he began his third review of the footage from the battle at the Hebert household that Colin Wallis finally found himself with a visitor who could provide him with a fresh perspective on his actions.
"Dragon," he greeted, as he accepted the video call from the one person who probably understood him best.
"Hello, Colin. I heard what happened."
Grunting in acknowledgment, he began playing the video again, a whisper in the back of his mind telling him he was missing something all of this.
"Colin. Talk to me," Dragon insisted, bothered by her best friend's behavior. While she knew that Colin would view the success of capturing Victor and Othala—despite the tragic circumstances—as something he would be proud of, this was not what she had been expecting when she had decided to call him.
"About what?" he asked after a moment, pausing the video as he focused solely upon Dragon.
"What happened at the Heberts'?"
There was a silence for a moment, Colin obviously organizing his thoughts on the matter. He shifted slightly, perhaps in discomfort about having to explain his actions; considering all his successes in his body of work, he probably wasn't used to it.
"I misread the situation," he admitted, his expression like he was biting into a bitter fruit.
With her silence enticing him to explain himself further, he reactivated the video. Dragon watched on as video-Armsmaster charged the gunmen arrayed in front of the car. Colin himself was studying the expression of the first gunman's face as he began talking further.
"When Miss Militia alerted us that Victor and Othala were at the Hebert household, I knew there was an opportunity to capture them. I had read the briefing from Miss Militia and knew Hebert was interested in a career as a hero. With Victor and Othala venturing that far out from E88 territory to meet with her, I believed there was an easy chance to take them in that we may never get again."
"You made an informed assumption." There was no accusation in her tone; she probably would have made the same decision based upon the information she did have at the time. It was extremely unfortunate—for the Heberts more so than anyone else—that it hadn't worked out flawlessly.
"Yes," he confirmed, irritation coloring his tone. "I believed that Hebert would have at least slowed Victor and Othala's attempt to retreat, allowing me to disarm the E88 gang members. Once that had been done, it would have just been an easy matter of mopping up."
"But she didn't."
"No," he agreed, massaging the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes, "she didn't."
As he watched the rest of the video, he couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration and anger at the teen as she stood there and did nothing. If it hadn't been for her inaction, then everything would have worked out perfectly. Instead, the capture of Victor and Othala had been marred by the death of Danny Hebert. If only she had simply done what she should have. Everything could have been perfect, if only she hadn't decided to screw it up.
He froze, eyes blinking as he caught sight of something that shouldn't be, before reaching forward, pressing stop on the video, and quickly rewinding it by a few moments. He then let it play again, leaning forward expectantly and watching as he found himself sprawled out by the paper that had wrapped around him. Once it had firmly ensnared him, a head began coming out of the paper, and he paused just as light added definition to the features.
"Can you clean this up, Dragon?" he asked, his expression focused, body tense, almost daring for what he was seeing to be further revealed for him. If what he now suspected was confirmed, there was an even larger issue that would have to be punted highed up the chain – one that could be exceedingly worrisome.
"Certainly Colin, though I'm not sure what you are looking for," Dragon replied, digitally working over the image. A few minutes later, she finished.
"Orange eyes," Colin murmured, eyes narrowing at the image before him. "Miss Militia mentioned in her encounter with Hebert that at one point she had orange eyes. But Taylor Hebert has green eyes."
Dragon was silent, already accessing files pertaining to Taylor Hebert. When she finished, she frowned. "Velocity also mentions orange eyes in his after-action report as well. A side-effect of more impressive displays of her power, or do you think it's something else?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted, "it could be nothing. It doesn't make sense in my experience of Breakers and Changers, however."
He rested his chin upon his first, staring at the image before him. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, and he was unsure if it was related to his irritation with Hebert, something else, or both.
"What's bothering you, Colin?"
His eyes left the image to look to Dragon for a moment on the vidcall, before they wandered back. After a few moments, he saved it and ended the video, instead opening up a recreation of the crime scene, his expression pensive. It was watching his expression that she found herself becoming further worried with her friend. He was usually so professional, but here it was almost like he was...obsessed.
"Colin."
"I just can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something, Dragon," he muttered, shaking his head as he stared at it, "something that shouldn't be here."
"Well, why don't you walk me through all of this, maybe all you need is an extra set of eyes."
"Right," came the response, "When I arrived at 2216, the six armed thugs were arrayed in a guarding position, allowing enough room for Victor and Othala to approach Hebert without being threatening, but close enough to provide protection if things were to go poorly. As for Victor and Othala, they were just short of the steps of the household with Hebert standing about five feet away from them."
"After I demanded that they surrender, Mr. Harter," he indicated the first gunmen he incapacitated, "immediately opened fire. Engaging, I disabled Mr. Harter before taking down Mr.'s Miller, Johnson, and Brooks, only then recognizing that Hebert had allowed Victor and Othala to run."
"So you pursued them."
He hesitated a moment, before reining in his irritation at the events that followed. Nodding, he finally continued.
"With the recognition that if I did not pursue Victor and Othala, they would be able to get away, I disengaged, leaving the last two suspects and immediately began pursuit of Victor and Othala. The rest is in the report."
He was met with silence from Dragon. He wondered just what she was thinking, while a little part of him was satisfied that she agreed with his decisions. There were too many people who did not understand the job that they did and would simply judge them.
"That's strange," Dragon finally spoke, bringing him from his musings. "Taylor Hebert has no experience, correct?"
"As far as we know, yes."
A window was brought up onto his computer, this time of the video taken from his motorcycle, giving an excellent view of where Hebert's paper clone was standing as one of the remaining gunmen slowly walked toward it, weapon at the ready. Just as he approached, Hebert sprung into action, and Colin watched as the gang member was disarmed, before grabbed with one hand, lifted up, and then slammed down. That was before she then broke apart, immediately targeting the rest of the gang members and then moving on to what he knew what was next.
But it also served to cause the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, as he realized exactly what Dragon had found.
"How many teenaged capes do you know on their first night would have this advanced a sense of threat recognition, and act so decisively in response, Colin?"
"None," he responded. Even Vista or Shadow Stalker wouldn't have been so fast, so polished - he knew adult capes who weren't.
"That's something you only learn through experience. Where did she get hers?"
It's all my fault.
Such a simple statement that meant so much more. Just acknowledging it made me sick to my already thrice-emptied stomach. The demons of what if flitted around in my thoughts as they drove their barbed pitchforks wherever they could, reminding me that I had been the one to make the phone call that ended up with my father dying.
I hadn't been thinking. No, scratch that, I had been thinking, only I had been thinking wrong. I could have saved Dad. All it would have taken was changing the density of my paper while I had shifted. I could have paid more attention to where he was. I could have told him that it was handled.
I could have prevented him from being shot.
I could have prevented him from being killed.
I could have prevented all of this.
My stomach roiled at the thought, churning what little contents were in there as I continued my self-castigation. I had been the one to set the stage for the events that transpired, and I had been the one who had stupidly believed that everything would work out in the end.
It seemed I now had another thing in common with her.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips, tears refusing to respond to the urge to empty themselves from already-dry ducts.
I had no doubt in my mind that the only thing that was preventing from completely shattering was the influence of her experiences. Just as I now realized that it hadn't truly been me that had fought and captured Armsmaster, Victor, and Othala. I had been a witness, but it had been all like I was on the outside looking in on someone else's life.
I knew who Konan had been. That was quite different to understanding what that meant.
But that was all immaterial right now, I thought to myself, taking a breath and trying to reign in the flagging emotions that were vying to drive me into a depression I couldn't afford. What mattered now was what I was going to do. I could dwell upon all of this later.
While my paternal grandparents were still alive, I knew it was unlikely they would take me considering I was responsible for Dad's death, so where I was going to end up was outside of my control. Unless I ran, but what good would that serve? I could never again wear my face or use most of my powers if I didn't want to be arrested or abducted off the street by the first hero, villain, or PRT squad to recognise me.
The point was I knew enough about parahumans to know that my situation was rather unique, thanks to my unmasking. I was firmly in the grey area of the law, if there were even any properly related to my case, and so it was likely that I would default to becoming a ward of the state, or—I ground my teeth—a Ward of the Protectorate. The former was more attractive than the latter, especially since I didn't trust the Protectorate's interests. Furthermore, I didn't think I could bring myself to being a part of the organization that was responsible for Armsmaster.
That didn't mean I was going to take any sort of revenge on him, or Empire 88, for that matter. I knew enough from Konan how revenge ends. But that didn't mean that I would not make it personal if I had the opportunity.
I shook my head. That was not my focus, not right now. I needed options, and there were scant few that I could think of that were palatable. Too many unknowns, too many options predicated on information I just didn't know.
The only thing I did know, however, is that I needed to be stronger. In everything. So this would never happen again.
But that again came back to a similar problem: how could I become stronger? Especially in my current situation.
All I needed was an opportunity. One that I could grasp with both hands. And if that opportunity did not come, then I would make it. There was no way I was going to allow this to be the end. I'd failed once, in a life that wasn't even mine. Then I failed again, this time in my own. A third time? Not now. Not ever.
My gaze fell to my hand, where a single paper crane lay in it – I couldn't even recall when I'd created it. Still, I found myself staring at it, mesmerized for a few moments as I then willed it to shift, watching as it changed through several animals, before coming back to a crane. I clenched my hand, feeling the paper reabsorb itself into me with nary a sound.
Time had become my enemy and ally both, I realized, more so than anything else. With time, I would have options, but none I could control. What would Konan do? I wondered to myself, as I looked out the window at the sun that was rising on the horizon.
The silence had no answer.
Meanwhile, another person maintained their vigil upon the rising sun, the almost zen-like permanence of the celestial body being met by equally brilliant blue eyes as they stared impassively into it.
For Max Anders, the previous evening had been one of inconveniences bordering on irritation. When he had set into motion the plan to recruit Taylor Hebert, it had been with the intentions of doing it quietly, based upon his sources in the Protectorate. Nowhere in that plan did it include the comedy of errors that he had been served with.
He had been explicit in his orders that there would be no fighting to Victor and Othala. They were only to go there and inquire in Miss Hebert's willingness to join the Empire 88, not start a damned firefight in a suburban neighborhood, and most definitely not get Danny Hebert killed in the process.
Alas, it seemed Victor had placed too much faith in the men he had handpicked. Not only had he failed in the simple task he had been assigned, but he had damaged the image of the Empire 88. For that he would have be held accountable when he was returned back to the fold. Victor was a loyal and effective subordinate, but discipline must be maintained.
The men who had fired the shots—well, they would be made an example of. It was only fair to Miss Hebert that he show his contriteness by terminating the men who had stolen her father, the same as he had done for New Wave and Fleur's killer; and that man hadn't even been part of the Empire.
When it came to Miss Hebert herself… he allowed a small smile to form on his face as he sipped from the expensive bourbon. It seemed that his investment of resources, regardless of the outcome, had certainly been merited. He could count on one hand the amount of people who could get a jump on—let alone disable—someone like Armsmaster. He wasn't sure he'd be able to do it, not without preparation. For a fifteen year old girl to take down the leader of the Protectorate with such apparent ease, well, it was a scene he was likely not going to forget for awhile. He would have to make sure his sources in the PRT were well-rewarded for their information.
The question now became just what was he going to do in lieu of this failure, he mused to himself, as he strode back into his study. He would, of course, retrieve Victor and Othala – that was without any doubt. Othala was critical in maintaining his forces, and Victor was just too useful to let languish.
No, he would have them sprung. It wouldn't take much considering the laughable effort that was put into detaining those who were not bound for the Birdcage. And it wouldn't take much to ensure that Victor and Othala would be readily available to retrieval when his forces arrived.
It was Hebert – Hebert was the question on his mind. The young girl obviously would have no love for the Protectorate—considering it was Armsmaster who had sparked this debacle—and if a whisper that had reached his ear was true, then it was possible the Protectorate liable for far more than just that. Any dislike she would have for the E88 could easily be assuaged with the right mixture of truth and lie. After all, it hadn't been their intent to start a fight, despite what the media was going to be saying about it today.
Fingers tapping gently on the desk, he cleared and focused his mind upon the task at hand. Just how much of an investment should he make in this endeavor? It wasn't like there was too much risk for the E88 if he were to continue his pursuit of the girl. Given the situation, there were now other means available to him that could be far more effective than force or intimidation.
After a few more moments, he smiled again and reached toward his phone to pick it up After dialing in a number, he awaited a response, his fingers once again drumming gently upon the wood.
"Jamison," he began, letting his smile be inflected in his tone, "I need you to look into something for me. Off the books for the moment, of course."