Security!

Chapter Twenty-One: Developments

I pulled the car in alongside the grounds-keeper's shed, set the parking brake, put it out of gear, and turned the engine off. Then I sagged back into the seat, relaxing every muscle I could reach, just letting my whole body go limp. I even closed my eyes.

"Fuck me rigid. That was insane."

I had to chuckle at the sound of my voice inside the small car.

It had been insane. The week had been insane. I had gone from stopping bullies, to helping capture a horribly overpowered cape – and nearly being burned to death in the process – to setting up another cape to be captured, to ensuring that a super-powered bank robbery would take place before arranging for it to be foiled.

In the process of the latest incident, I had helped Panacea, given Taylor another much-needed boost to her self-confidence, ensured that Dinah Alcott would stay out of Coil's clutches – that is, if the PRT had done its job correctly – and in general set off such flocks of butterflies that I had hardly any idea about what would happen after tomorrow.

I couldn't wait.

Pulling the key from the ignition, I went to get out. Doing so involved a certain amount of twisting and flexing, and I knew that this would press my bruised ribs against the stab vest.

But there was no pain, no stiffness.

I frowned, and twisted a little harder. My ribs felt the pressure, but there was no pain, no discomfort.

A slow grin crept across my face. Why, that sneaky little wench. She healed me, and never let on. And I didn't notice until just now.

Getting out, I locked the car and strolled around to the front doors. Gladys would not need her car until the end of the day, and I knew where to find her then. I hadn't refuelled it, of course, but I figured I could fix that up later.

There still remained the matter of signing back in, and weathering whatever storm had been raised by our precipitate departure. I sighed, and set my course in that direction.

=/=/=

Before I was even halfway there, my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar; I answered with a noncommittal "Allen."

The voice was Alexandria's. "I am a very busy woman, Mr Allen. I hope that this matter is important."

Yeah, I thought, because I bring trivial matters to your attention all the friggin' time. For frig's sake.

Out loud, I tried to be a little more circumspect. "Actually, I believe it is. You know that little chat we had Sunday?"

"I have an excellent memory. Of course I remember it. Get to the point."

"Well, as I recall, your colleague agreed to, uh, make a doctor's appointment. He has failed to do do. This concerns me." Let's see how you go with understatement.

Her voice was sharp. "You were checking up on him?"

I bit back angry words. "No. It came up in relation to another matter. Anyway. The point is that he needs to make that appointment."

There was a pause. "I have spoken with him on the matter. He considers that, after the initial advice you gave him worked out so well, he considers himself strong enough to handle the problem from here on in."

I took a deep breath. The idiot thinks he can 'handle' the Endbringers.

"No," I ground out. "No, he is not. I can absolutely fucking one-hundred-percent guarantee that."

Something in my tone must have caught her attention. "Explain."

"Okay," I began, trying to word this in an innocuous fashion. "For one thing. The problems that he thinks he can overcome? They actually get harder, the more resources you throw at them. Currently, they're on 'easy' mode. You don't want to see them on 'hard' mode."

Her tone was cautious. "But if he can overcome them before they can escalate -"

I cut her off. "Okay, something I have not yet told you. What we're talking about? You knock over one, you know what happens? Two more pop up. Or three, depending how you count them."

There was silence on the line. Finally, she spoke. "There are more?"

"Seventeen more variations. And the more we escalate the, uh, cures, the more they'll be escalating the infections."

"Seventeen." Her voice was flat.

"Seventeen," I agreed. "Now do you see why I wanted him to see the doctor as soon as possible? Jesus christ all-fucking-mighty; I don't believe that I'm lecturing you on how to do your job. Call yourselves -" Superheroes. "- responsible people? I'm only trying to save -" The world. "- his health, here. Is it too much to expect just a little cooperation along the way? For fuck's sake."

I realised that my voice may have risen slightly toward the end there, so I moderated my tone. "Sorry, but you understand why I might be a little unhappy about hearing that news. We've got one month before this goes critical; he needs to see the doctor."

From the tone of her voice, I knew she had understood what I had not said. "I will explain matters to him as soon as I can."

I didn't even care any more that I was talking to someone who could easily put her fist right through me. "Yeah, you do that."

"One more thing."

I was about to hang up; I paused. "What?"

"There are other strains around, not as dangerous."

I frowned. "Other strains?"

"Nine of them, to be precise."

The Nine. "Ah. I know the ones you're talking about. What about them?"

"Is it advisable to eradicate them now, or keep them as, uh, antibodies?"

I didn't hesitate. "The Juliet Sierra strain needs to be destroyed. Just recall its particular resistances. Same with any of the other strains that cannot be contained." I paused. "The, uh, less mature Bravo Sierra strain might be of some use, as well as the Sierra Bravo."

"And the Whiskey Mike?"

My voice was firm. "Only if it can be safely and indefinitely contained. Otherwise, kill it dead."

"Understood. I will pass on your instructions."

"Excellent. And kindly tell your colleague that if he doesn't smarten his act up, then I will have to take steps. Personally. And I don't want to have to do that. Is this totally understood?"

"Perfectly. I will tell him."

And with that, she ended the call.

I put the phone away, and continued on my way to Principal Blackwell's office. With the greatest of efforts, I managed to not break into a cold sweat over how I had just told off the most powerful woman on the planet. I resolved that at our next meeting, I would be very polite indeed.

Of course I don't want to have to bloody tell Eidolon what to do in person. Because I have no idea how to make it stick.

=/=/=

"Eidolon."

"Alexandria."

"I've just been on the phone with Security."

"So what's he got to say?"

"For one, that you haven't made your appointment to get therapy with Mrs Yamada as you said you would."

"You didn't argue when I told you why not, earlier."

"Yes, but I hadn't just had a monumental strip ripped off of me by that man, just now."

"You're kidding me."

"There are things we did not know. Things you need to know."

"Such as?"

"Such as the Endbringers are taking it easy for the moment. They can make things much, much harder for us."

"He told you this?"

"He did. And I believe him. And there's more."

"More?"

"Yes. If his information is correct, there are twenty Endbringers in total. There are only three active at the moment, but if we kill one, two or three more will emerge from wherever they are hiding. And, I presume, more again if we kill more than one."

" ..."

"David?"

"You believe this too?"

"I do."

"So what do you think we should do?"

"I'll be making that appointment for you. You will attend."

"But I don't need –"

"You. Will. Attend."

"Okay, fine, I'll attend."

"But first, let me sweeten the pot a little."

"How?"

"He said that you can take down the Nine any time you like. Jack Slash needs destroying. If you can contain Bonesaw, Shatterbird and Manton, do so, but kill the others. Just remember –"

"Yes. Jack Slash can anticipate a cape's actions. I read the email too."

"Good. And don't let him talk to you. Apparently he's quite persuasive."

"Oh, I don't intend on coming within a hundred yards of him."

"Good hunting."

"Thank you."

"And then attend therapy."

"I will, I promise."

"Good."

=/=/=

The principal looked up as I entered her office.

"You're back," she observed. "Six minutes late, by the clock."

"I'm sorry. I got a phone call as I was walking in. Taylor would have made it to class okay."

She leaned forward on her desk. "About that. You didn't tell me that Taylor was going out of the school with you. Nor did she come to get permission to leave."

I nodded. "Yeah, I found that one out once we were already off school grounds. But I got in touch with Danny, and he said it was all good with him. So I figured, hey, she's with me, I'm a school employee, I'll make sure she doesn't skip her afternoon classes."

"Which she isn't," Blackwell noted.

"Nope. She's in class right now," I agreed.

"So … what was it that she needed to get?"

I shrugged. "No idea. We stopped at a few shops, but she didn't actually get anything much. Maybe she just wanted to spend the lunch hour away from school?"

Blackwell compressed her lips. "It's rather irregular."

I nodded. "Sure. Next time, I'll make damn sure she has permission to leave." I paused. "And that leads to our next problem."

"Next problem?"

"Mr Gladly."

Ms Blackwell looked wary. "What about him?"

"He followed Taylor and me from the school, and when Taylor got in the car, he tried to drag her out of it. The man's a menace. He could have broken Taylor's arm."

She stared. "He … laid hands … on a student?"

I nodded. "Grabbed her arm, tried to drag her out of the car. So I went around and walked him away from her."

"He says you assaulted him."

"Only to prevent him from assaulting her."

"Does Taylor want to lay charges against him?"

"I don't think so. She's transferring to Arcadia soon, right?"

Blackwell nodded. "Quite soon, actually. I'm just awaiting the final confirmations."

"Yeah. Well, I doubt she'll be wanting to be stuck dealing with that sort of crap. Is it possible to just tack this on to his other disciplinary thing?"

Principal Blackwell looked thoughtful. "Listen, I can't really go ahead with this unless there's actual evidence one way or another. Did you happen to have a recorder running ...?"

By the tone of her voice, she expected me to say no.

"Actually, yes, I did."

Extracting the recorder from my belt pouch, I ran it back until the timestamp indicated what I wanted. Then I pressed PLAY.

"Excellent." That was my voice. It was followed by the sound of a seatbelt clicking into place, and a car engine starting.

Then there was the sound of a car door opening. Mr Gladly's voice sounded next.

"What the hell are you doing? Where the hell are you going with this student?"

My voice replied. "I'm a friend of the family. I'm taking her to the shops."

"No, you're not. Taylor, get out of the car right now."

There was a cry of pain, and Blackwell winced. "Taylor," I explained quietly.

Then my voice shouted, "No!"

Another car door opened, this one much closer. The recorder faithfully reproduced my hurried footsteps, my quick breaths. There was a pause, then a grunt.

"He tried to hit me."

Another grunt, and a stifled cry of pain.

"Got him in a compliance hold, and he tried to get out."

"Lay a hand on her one more time, Gladly, and I will break your fucking arm." My voice, flat and hard.

Then there was the sound of several footfalls, and a body falling to the ground.

I stopped the recording. "I pushed him so that he fell over, got in the car, and we left. I didn't need to deal with that crap, or with Gladly. If he'd gotten up while I was still there ..." I left the rest unsaid.

Blackwell nodded judiciously. "I think you have the right idea. We will deal with this at the same time. The disciplinary hearing's on Saturday."

"Am I required to attend?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Is he likely to lose his job over this?"

"No, but enough black marks on his file, and that will certainly be a possibility. No matter the outcome of the hearing, he will have to walk very carefully indeed for the next few months."

"That's fine with me. But someone needs to tell Gladly that being the popular teacher should come second to taking care of the less popular students."

With that, I walked out of Blackwell's office. Carefully, I closed the door behind me.

I had another phone call to make; I went up to the third floor, and found a deserted corridor.

=/=/=

" ... and I'm thinking teal and cream just there, offsetting the dark brown of the panelling –"

Kayden's attention was distracted by her phone going off. The elderly client looked around at her, questioningly.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'll be with you in a moment."

She pulled out her phone and checked the number. She frowned; caller ID was blocked. So who was calling her?

She took a deep breath. "NuHome Interior Decorating, Kayden speaking."

The voice that she heard was entirely unfamiliar to her. "Ah, Ms Anders. I'm glad I caught you."

She frowned. "Who is this? I'm with a client –"

"Call me Security. I have a message for Purity."

She went cold all over. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No worries. Let's pretend you don't, for the moment. But listen carefully. There's a supervillain in Brockton Bay who's been amassing dossiers on every member of the Empire Eighty-Eight, past and present."

The voice paused, then went on meaningfully. "Including family members. Especially family members. And he intends to release it online in a few days, in order to get the upper hand in a gang conflict."

"But that's breaking the unwritten rules –"

"Yup. He's the sort of guy who does that. But never fear; he's going to go down. Tonight, if I can pull it off. However, I cannot guarantee that he hasn't arranged some sort of electronic fuck-you that spills the beans anyway if he's taken down. So I would suggest not letting Aster out of your sight over the next few days. You might even consider leaving town for a week or so, just in case, until the dust settles.

"Because I know how devoted you are to your daughter, and I know what lengths you'll go to, in order to get her back, if she's taken from you. And I'd rather you didn't find it necessary to go to those lengths. So consider this a friendly heads-up."

"Oh," she replied at last. "Oh. Ah ... thank you?"

"No thanks necessary. Just take care of Aster, and stay away from Max. Okay?"

"I ... I'll do that. Uh – one question?"

"Yes?"

"Does Max know about this?"

He chuckled. "You can tell him if you want. I haven't bothered."

And the line went dead, just like that.

Kayden stared at her phone for a few moments, then shook her head and put it back on her belt.

Manufacturing a smile, she turned back to her client. "So sorry, Mrs Wilson. I'm going to have to reschedule. Next week, perhaps?"

Don't let Aster out of your sight, he had said. Consider leaving town for a week or so.

That was advice she certainly intended to follow.

Just in case.

Because life without Aster was unthinkable.

=/=/=

Closing my phone, I went about my rounds. There was still the afternoon to get through, before the action tonight. Four hours to think, to mentally prepare, to go over what needed doing. To refine my plans.

I just hoped that, between my knowledge of the setting, and Contessa's bullshit hax powers, we could pull off this attack.

I hoped that the Undersiders would be willing to listen to reason. I thought they would be, but I could not be certain.

I hoped that Director Piggot would be willing to hold off on taking certain steps until I told her to go on with them.

I hoped that a hundred unknown factors wouldn't conspire to trip me up at the worst possible time.

Fuck this behind-the-scenes puppet-master bullshit, I told myself. It's too hard on the nerves.

And then I grinned. But fuck, it's a rush when I pull it off.

=/=/=

"We'll be landing shortly."

Dragon's voice brought Paige out of a light doze; she had been curled up on one of the seats, more comfortable than she had been in months, just enjoying the trip. The meal pack had been delicious, and Dragon's company welcome without being intrusive.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes. "Oh – ah, do I have to put that gag back on?"

Dragon's voice was warm and friendly. "No, you don't have to. You will be met by soldiers with ear protection, and escorted to soundproof accommodations."

Paige was heartened by that, but still more than a little unhappy about the way they obviously saw her. "Don't they know I can't just take control of someone like that?"

Dragon chuckled. "I know it, dear, and you know it. But the military is all the same. They have their procedures, just in case the threat is worse than it first appears."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

"Don't be. I rather enjoyed the trip."

"Oh." Paige was unaccountably touched. "Thank you. So did I."

And then the craft tilted and the turbines roared, and Paige knew that her journey was coming to an end. What was to happen to her now, she wasn't sure. But virtually anything would be better than that cell, and that courtroom, and that gag.

=/=/=

The afternoon wore on. Ground floor, second floor, third floor. Check each one in turn, then back down again. For some, it would be unutterably boring. For me, it was the job.

Fourth period ended at one forty; I encountered Taylor leaning against the wall, relaxed, eating a pita wrap as her fellow students went one way or another.

"Sorry I didn't give you a chance to have your lunch," I commented, leaning against the wall beside her.

She swallowed a bite and grinned at me. "It's okay. I've missed lunch before."

Because bullies took it off her, no doubt.

"Well, it's good to see that you're getting something into you now. Looking forward to this afternoon?"

She nodded seriously. "Oh yeah."

"Good. I'll see you around." I traded a fist-bump with her, and moved off.

=/=/=

Eidolon stepped out of a Door and looked around. The Door blinked out of sight a moment later.

It was a small town in the middle of Nebraska, official population three thousand; currently, from the flames engulfing some buildings, the smoke rising into the air, and the screams he could hear here and there, he figured that number was falling rapidly. He noted the window frames gaping empty in the surrounding buildings; Shatterbird had already done her work.

Without moving from the spot, he activated the power-finder power that he had drawn on first, on Security's advice. He was looking for specific powersets; those powers owned by the Nine, to be exact.

The current roster was Jack Slash, Bonesaw, Mannequin, Crawler, Shatterbird, Hatchet Face, Burnscar, Siberian and Winter. He knew their powersets well enough; two, he knew better than he had a week ago.

Some would say he was being foolhardy in taking on an S-class threat all by himself, with no backup. But in his thinking, backup was just as likely to get killed, or become a hostage. On his own, he had no-one to worry about but himself.

His second power was a suite of gravity-control effects. One minor capability was to suspend small particles in the air around him, so that nothing bigger than a foot across could reach him without moving one of them.

He felt the particles being crushed, moved, directly behind him, and he vaulted skyward, instants before the Siberian would have gutted him. His power-finder still had not located Manton, but it was closing in.

Unfortunately, so was Shatterbird.

He had traded out his mask for a non-glass based one for this very fight; when she sang, and spears of glass pummelled him, the gravitic force field surrounding him bounced them away or shattered them. He saw her gathering the glass together to form a massive hammer that would surely crush him flat.

But then his other power detected his target.

He sent one pulse of gravity at her, increasing her weight dramatically, to drag her to the ground in an undignified heap. And then, he was flashing away, toward where his target hid.

Manton was in a van, which started up as he arrived. This did him little good, as the van promptly lifted into the air, under Eidolon's direction.

Shatterbird was still regaining her scattered wits; none of the others could fly, and Burnscar could only teleport through fire. He had Manton where he wanted –

The Siberian popped into existence on top of the van, and launched herself at him. He knew his force field was as nothing to her, that she would be on him in a second –

He didn't have a choice. He exerted his power.

Her clawed nails were barely six inches from his face when the van suddenly imploded, crunching down to a fraction of its size. She vanished; red leaked from the crumpled metal.

Grimacing at the near-fatal slip, Eidolon let the remains of the van and William Manton fall to the ground. He looked around, casting about for Jack Slash.

He detected a force impinging on the surface of the force field at almost exactly the same time as his power picked up the man's powerset. As he turned that way, he saw Jack Slash himself, taking a running dive off the roof of a convenience store.

Eidolon smiled grimly. It's almost as though he knows what I intend to do.

Shatterbird was up by now, and streaking in for an attack run; Eidolon smashed her back with another gravity pulse that knocked her a mile through the air. Then he went after Jack Slash.

The power picked him up, but he was nowhere in sight. But then, Eidolon noted an open manhole cover.

Gone to ground, like the rat you are.

Eidolon pinpointed his location, then concentrated on the area of ground above him. His force field faded away for the moment as he exerted another aspect of the power.

Abruptly, a fifty-foot-wide circle of ground dropped six feet.

Jack Slash's powerset flickered, and then winked out.

Just as Eidolon was bringing his force field back up again, there was a sudden agonising pain in his right forearm and chest; he looked down, and a gleaming blade was buried through his arm, and into his body. The body armour he wore had done a little to stop it, but it was deep enough to be serious.

He realised that, had he brought up the force field a moment later, he would have been dead. As it was, he knew he was badly injured.

I could go now, leave the Nine to be mopped up, he knew. Slash is dead, or nearly so. Manton is dead.

But deep down, he knew that Bonesaw could perform miracles, or close to, with her bio-tinker skills. If they dug up Slash's body ...

I have to finish this.

Blood was running down his stomach, soaking his clothes. The pain was horrible.

Shatterbird was coming at him again, glass spears seeking his vitals. The force field wavered; his powers were great, but having a blade sticking into one's vital organs tended to have an effect on one's concentration.

He dismissed the power-seeker power and pulled out another from the vast library now open to him. Shatterbird flew at him, just as another blade was barely deflected by the force field.

Flinging out his left hand, he sent a small dark bolt flying at the Middle Eastern cape. She jinked to avoid it; it abruptly blossomed into a night-dark sphere, engulfing her. The sphere gradually cleared, remaining only as a grey haze, encapsulating Shatterbird, frozen in time. A variant on Grey Boy's power, but it would only last a few minutes.

Mannequin shot another knife at him, then dodged another bolt, which promptly encapsulated a mailbox. The blade very nearly penetrated his force field.

Eidolon gritted his teeth, and called up a personal biokinesis power, not unlike Aegis'. As it settled over him, he turned off his pain awareness in that area, and redirected blood flow. The bleeding eased to nothing, and he pulled the blade from his arm and body without any more trouble.

With the lack of pain, he managed to shore up the force field, so that Mannequin's next two blades glanced off without any particular effort from his part. A gesture caught the white-armoured figure, and crunched it down to a size that, while spherical, was less than ideal for supporting life.

Sphere, indeed.

He set the blood to clotting and the flesh to knitting; this was in no way the first time he had ever been injured, but usually he'd had three powers to work with, and doing this with two was a little difficult and time-consuming.

And then, with a roar, Crawler's immense bulk clambered up on to the roof over which he had been hovering – and, he realised, slowly drifting down toward, as his concentration was distracted by other matters – and leaped up toward him. The massive body landed directly on top of the force field bubble, and pushed them both down toward the roof. Arms and legs – he really wasn't sure which was which, and Crawler probably wasn't either – flailed at his protective sphere.

The building burst into flame beneath him; Burnscar must be somewhere around the area, he realised. The heat began to get uncomfortable, and he was already dividing his attention too many ways at once. He dismissed the biokinesis, and pulled up simple regeneration; the pain returned, but he felt the wounds healing at a considerably increased rate.

He couldn't throw Crawler off of him, but he could move sideways with the grotesquely misshapen villain's mass still draped over the top of his force field bubble. He could vaguely hear Crawler laughing, and making some sort of vile promise about what he was going to do with Eidolon's body.

And then he saw who he was looking for. The last three members of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Bonesaw standing next to Winter, holding her hand. And standing just a little way away, Hatchet Face.

As he watched, Winter unslung a high-powered rifle from her shoulder. His force field was already stressed enough by Crawler's ongoing assault, the strain of lifting the gross body, the heat of the fire ... he could not be certain that it would deflect a shot from the rifle.

He rolled the sphere, dropping Crawler on to the roof of the burning building. Bellowing with rage, the nigh-invulnerable cape smashed through the roof and into the inferno below. The force field ramped up again, just as Winter fired. The bullet struck the force field, smashed through, but was deflected just far enough to miss his head.

She did not get a second shot.

Reaching out and rising upward, Eidolon took hold of both Winter and Hatchet Face. He slammed them together hard enough to break bones, then brought them over the top of the building where Crawler was just now getting to his feet. Deliberately, he moved them into the fire, into contact with Crawler himself.

Winter would normally have been able to withstand this easily; however, Hatchet Face's power nullified hers, and so she felt the full heat of the fire.

Likewise, Crawler had been feeling no particular urgency, until all of his power was stripped away. He tried to surge away, break away from the suddenly unbearable heat, but a gravitic fist gripped him and held him in place.

And then Eidolon dismissed the regeneration ability; his wounds were not yet healed, but they had closed, and that was all that mattered. He called up an ability not unlike Burnscar's. The fire below began to burn hotter, and hotter, and hotter.

When fire investigators finally delved through the wreckage of this building, they would find three charred skeletons; two would be recogniseably human, while the third would be monstrously inhuman.

Turning away from the funeral pyre, Eidolon searched for the pyrokinetic and the bio-tinker who had brought terror and death to so many, at the behest of Jack Slash.

They were nowhere to be seen.

He called up the power-seek ability, and searched for Bonesaw and Burnscar in that manner.

And then he coughed. Something tickled at the back of his throat, and he coughed again, a fine spray of red in the air.

She's released a pathogen of some sort.

Immediately, he pulled up the biokinesis ability, setting his cells to finding the invader, casting it out, rebuilding the parts of his lungs that had already started to disintegrate.

Burnscar stepped from cover and launched a bolt of fire; it engulfed the force field, temporarily blinding him. The heat was immense; he felt sweat springing out all over his body.

He responded by rising upward, out of her range. Out of the range of Bonesaw's pathogens. Once he figured he was high enough, he opened the bubble, let himself breathe untainted air, allowed the biokinesis power to finish fixing the damage done by Bonesaw's hell-plague. His arm and chest still pained him, but it would take too long to fix that, too. He had to get the last two members of the Nine before they spread more death and destruction.

Re-establishing the force field, he made it airtight. It would only give him a few minutes of breathable air, but this would allow him to use his third power for something other than healing the disease.

The time limit made him realise that Shatterbird's timer must be running down. Fighting her as well as these other two might become just a little ... pressing. Especially if he wanted to take Bonesaw and Shatterbird alive.

He swooped down, using his finder power to locate their powersets. Bonesaw was hiding in one of the houses, while Burnscar lurked close by. Neither was in his direct line of sight. Well, no matter.

Coming to a hover over the house where Bonesaw was, he lifted the roof off with sheer brute power, not bothering with finesse. Bonesaw looked up, apparently halfway through crafting some monstrosity, melding several of the unlucky victims of her plague together.

Eidolon only had fractions of a second to understand this before a grotesque amalgamated figure bounded from hiding, up on to the wall, and then directly at him. A rat-like face, drooling mouth, mismatched teeth, clawed hands, attacking the force field bubble with mindless ferocity.

He sighed, called up the power he had used to entrap Shatterbird, and shot the bolt at Bonesaw. The rat-like thing jumped into its way; the dark sphere enfolded it instead. Bonesaw tried to dodge the second shot, but failed; she was likewise imprisoned.

Fire bloomed around him. Airtight, the bubble stood up to the heat much better, but the air inside was running out. He turned, saw Burnscar, and shot a bolt at her. She evaded, stepping into one fire and out of another.

This was getting annoying, and time consuming. He dismissed that power, and called up one he'd never tried before. It was a Shaker ability, fairly widespread. Within the area of effect ... fire did not burn.

Abruptly, all combustion in the area ceased. Burnscar looked around, shocked. She tried to call up flame, and only succeeded in making vague, meaningless gestures. So stunned was she that she did not notice when he picked up a car and dropped it on top of her. She barely had time to scream.

It was getting a little hard to breathe in the force field sphere. He called up another Shaker power, one used to transmute gases, and reverted all the carbon dioxide within the force field back to oxygen.

He caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye, and saw Shatterbird, clear of her timelocked prison, begin to fall before re-establishing her glass wings. He slammed her to the ground hard enough to break bones, then called up the time-sphere power again. She was enfolded and trapped once more.

A widespread biokinetic Shaker power cleared the plague from the area; he simply located and catalogued everything under a certain size, and killed everything that was inimical to human life. Then he went back to where Bonesaw and her homonculus were trapped.

With a gesture, he freed the minion. With another, he crushed its skull.

Small robotic spiders launched themselves at him; he destroyed them, one at a time, until the last was gone.

Able to let down the airtight force field now, he surrounded Bonesaw with it, then dismissed the timestop field. She struggled against it, against the invisible shackles that he placed on her. Making part of the field semi-permeable, he pushed his finger through until the tip rested on her cheek. The advanced biokinetic powers that he had taken on neutralised the pathogens and toxins with which she had infested her body. They also put her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

He re-checked the area for pathogens, cleared it of the few that remained, then put another force field around Shatterbird before dropping the timestop field. She tried her hardest to murder him with shards of glass, but he filled her air-tight forcefield with anaesthetic gas.

She passed out fifteen seconds later, and he was able to send her to sleep as well.

"Door."

The Eidolon that stepped through the Door into the Cauldron base, towing the unconscious bodies of two members of the Slaughterhouse Nine, was not the same as the Eidolon who had stepped through not so long before. He was weary, bedraggled, wounded and bloody. But he held his head high with pride.

Alexandria met him, her eyes searching his.

"Manton?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. Matters were taken from my hands."

She pursed her lips. "Pity. Well, you got those two, anyway."

"Why did you want them, anyway?"

"I didn't. Security did. I imagine that Bonesaw may have useful insights or capabilities ..."

He snorted. "If anyone will trust her near them."

"You have a point. But we have her now. Maybe with her mind wiped ..."

"Right. But what about Shatterbird?"

"And there you have me. Well, we have accommodations for them both. When we speak to Security tomorrow, we will find out what plans he has for them."

"You think he's really got a plan that will stop Scion?"

"Contessa seems to think so. We'll just have to wait and see." She paused. "And in the meantime ..."

Behind his mask, he rolled his eyes. "Okay. Fine. I'll go to therapy."

She gave him a small, tight smile. "Good."

=/=/=

I leaned against the concrete wall bordering the steps, and watched Emma and Madison get into their respective family cars. It was three-thirty already; school was out.

The other students streamed past me, down the steps, free until the morning. I grinned; I kind of envied them. Life was simultaneously more complex, and much simpler, as a teenager.

Not that I would swap with them. I was long done with my teenage years.

If everything went right, tonight we'd be taking down a supervillain. If my plan worked, if everything went all right, Coil would not know a thing, not until it was far too late.

Oh god, I hope everything goes all right.

Nearly all the students had left the building; I watched them boarding the bus, getting into cars.

"Hey."

I turned; it was Taylor.

"Hey, yourself."

"So, what happens this afternoon?"

"We show up at the PRT building, I present the plan, and we go kick some supervillain ass. Oh, and you get to meet a celebrity."

She blinked. "What, really? Who?"

I grinned; she wrinkled her nose at me. "You suck."

"Look at it as something to look forward to."

"You still suck."

"Maybe. So, you gonna head home and tell your Dad about your thrilling adventures?"

"I can head home, sure. But he won't be home till about the time I need to get to the PRT building anyway." She glanced at me. "After five, right?"

"After five," I confirmed. "It'll look a bit suss for you to be hanging around with the security guard after everyone else has gone. You'd better get home, get freshened up, have a feed. Get some tucker into you."

She was startled into a laugh. "Get some what?"

I blinked, swore at myself. "Uh, food. It's an Australianism I once heard." Overrriding my – Michael Allen's – natural vocal reflexes, I put on a broad Australian accent. "It's the way Aussies speak – mate."

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god," she managed, between muffled giggles. "That sounds so weird. How do you manage that accent?"

"I, uh, knew an Australian one time," I replied, carefully letting the American accent take over again. "You pick up things like that."

"Oh my god," she repeated, shaking her head. "You have got to do that in front of Dad. He'll fall over laughing."

I shook my own head. "It's just a thing I picked up, is all. Now, you'd better get home. But I'll see you at the PRT building after five."

Taylor grinned. "I'll see you there – myte." She did her best at an Australian accent, and I didn't correct her. We bumped fists; I watched her walk down the steps and join the group at the bus stop.

"That was a bloody stupid slip," I told myself. "Don't do it again."

"Don't do what again?" asked a cool voice from behind me.

This was definitely my day for people to sneak up behind me. I turned, already putting a smile on my face. "Ah, yeah, I kind of forgot to fuel up your car," I confessed. "Sorry. I was a little annoyed at myself for that."

Pulling out my wallet, I extracted a ten dollar note and offered it to her.

"Keep it," she told me, amused.

"No, really," I told her, pulling out her car keys at the same time. "I really do appreciate the loaner."

She accepted the keys but refused the money once more. "I don't take money from friends, Michael."

"You're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Okay, no problems then." I put the money away again. "But I will buy you lunch sometime."

A smile blossomed across her face. "I can accept that, yes."

We relaxed, leaning against the wall. The last of Taylor's group boarded the bus. It drove away.

"So ..." she ventured. "You and Taylor drove into the city at lunch time, in my car. According to Mr Gladly, you were quite insistent that you both go."

I looked at her; she looked at me. We were more or less of a height. Her eyes were a cool blue-green.

"I had permission to go into town," I replied at last. "To go to the bank. Taylor hitched a ride with me."

"Although she had no permission."

"Danny said he was okay with it."

"After the fact."

I moved my head from side to side in a vague, almost-nodding fashion. "There is that, yes."

Her voice took on just a hint of sharpness. "Are you going to make me ask you outright, Michael?"

I sighed. "Gladys, we did nothing illegal." Except break the speed limit, just a little, here and there, on the way. "As to what we did do ... well, I understand that Danny's arranged a little meeting this evening, to clear that up. You, me, Taylor, Danny."

She shook her head. "This secrecy ... there are several possible interpretations. One of which I refuse to believe altogether. Others which ... well, they are almost as difficult to accept." She looked at me directly. "And I happened to catch the news during the lunch hour. There was a bank robbery downtown, which just happened to be foiled. By a previously unknown cape."

Mentally, I winced. Gladys was no slouch at adding two and two.

I took a deep breath. "Gladys ... if it was just me, I'd tell you. But it's not. So ... tonight? Danny's place?"

"Certainly. What time?"

I grimaced. "There's the other problem. I'm not going to be available till late. Maybe nine, or ten. Call you?"

One of her eyebrows hitched up. "Really," she murmured. "You know, you're not helping dispel my suspicions."

"Tonight? Please?"

She nodded, looking pleased with herself. "Tonight, then."

Slipping her keys into her purse, she headed back inside. I watched as the last students got on the next bus, then headed in myself.

=/=/=

"Mom, can I talk to you about something?"

Carol Dallon looked up from a desk full of papers. "What is it, Amy? I'm busy."

"I want to move out of home. Just for a while."

Carol began to glance back down at the papers, then the import behind Amy's statement caught up with her.

"What? Why?"

"Because I need to," Amy replied. "I'm not happy here. I've come to realise that. I need to get out, just for a bit. Clear my head."

Carol shook her head. "Where are you going? Are you quitting the team?"

"Not quitting. Just ... what do they say ... taking a leave of absence. And I've got a place to go to. It's all been arranged."

Carol stood up. "You've arranged this behind our backs? How long have you been planning this?"

Amy felt the first tears start to come into her eyes. Her voice took on a defensive tremor. "I haven't. But I spoke to someone today who told me I was burning out emotionally, that I needed to get away from my home environment. He was right, Mom. I am burning out. It's getting harder to do the right thing all the time."

Carol stared at her. She had never seen Amy quite like this before. Her voice softened a little.

"Where will you be living?"

"With a family called the Heberts," Amy replied. "There's a girl my age living there. Oh, and I'll be getting therapy, too."

Carol's voice was sharp. "What for, and who with?"

Amy's voice was firm, if not the steadiest. "Mrs Jessica Yamada, and what for is between me and her."

"So who was this person you spoke to, who organised all this?"

"He called himself Security."

"And how do you know he knows anything at all about you, or your position?"

"Well, you know that bank robbery that happened today?"

"The Brockton Bay Central, yes. I spoke to Victoria; she said a new cape helped capture the villains responsible."

"I was inside that bank. He walked in, and got me to walk out, just before it was robbed."

"That could be a coincidence."

"He also knows things about me, about Vicky, about you, that no-one else knows."

"He's a cape, then."

"No. That's the strangest thing. He let me use my powers on him, to make sure he was telling the truth. And he never told a single lie. And he's not a cape."

Carol was silent for a long moment. "So, on this man's word, you want to move out for a while, and get therapy."

"Yes."

"How long for, and who's paying for the therapy?"

"Maybe a month. And Mrs Yamada said she'd be billing the PRT."

Carol honestly did not know how to react. She didn't like or trust her foster daughter, but now Amy was offering to move out of the house, to get therapy ...

"Hm. I'll talk it over with your father, and we'll need all the contact information. But if it all checks out, I can't see a problem."

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best."

Amy turned and left the room with a jaunty step, leaving Carol Dallon staring after her.

=/=/=

At five on the dot, I signed in the master keys, and closed Blackwell's door behind me on the way out of her office. I nodded to the cleaners on the way out, and then paused on the steps.

There was a van in the carpark.

A van almost identical to the one in which I had been abducted.

Coil should have been terrified to go near me again ... but what if he'd somehow caught wind of my shenanigans against him? My plan to spoof his power should be in action, but if that had somehow backfired ...

He may have decided to simply kill me and suffer whatever consequences.

Or, I reasoned, the PRT may simply have sent a real van to pick me up.

At that moment, my phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Security?"

"Speaking. Director Piggot?"

"Yes. You should have just walked out of the school. There will be a van in the parking lot."

"I see it."

"Don't be concerned. This one is legitimate."

"The last one looked legitimate."

"The driver is proof that it is legitimate."

"Really."

"Go and look."

Moving cautiously, I edged up past the van, one hand on my baton, the other on my pepper spray, until I could see who was in the driver's seat.

Miss Militia leaned on the window sill and smiled at me. The scarf was pulled down from her face, making her just another attractive woman wearing military fatigues with a scarf around her neck.

"Hello, Mr Allen. It's good to meet you again."

I grinned back at her. "Yeah," I said into the phone. "That's proof enough for me."

I got into the van.

=/=/=

"Vicky, could you do me a favour?"

"Sure thing, Ames. What's up?"

"I need a lift down to the PRT building." Amy paused. "Actually, you want to come with? Something about taking down a supervillain."

Glory Girl was immediately all attention.

"You're kidding me. Someone invited you to take down a supervillain, and not me?"

Amy grinned. "Actually, he did say, 'Oh, bring that loose cannon sister of yours too, if you think she can be trusted,' or something like that."

Victoria bristled. "Loose cannon my butt!"

Amy cleared her throat. "Six times, Vicky. Six times."

Vicky looked at the floor and mumbled something.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"You suck."

"Or I can uninvite you ..."

"Okay, fine, you don't suck."

Amy grinned; her sister stuck out her tongue at her.

Vicky raised her voice. "Mom!"

Carol's voice floated down from the study. "Yes?"

"Amy and I are heading out for a bit. We'll be back later!"

"Okay. Let me know when you get back in."

"Sure thing, Mom." Vicky turned to Amy. "Okay, Ames. Let's go kick a supervillain's butt."

Amy grinned. When directed properly, her sister's enthusiasm could be quite impressive.

=/=/=

"So," I ventured, once we were on the road, "you've basically unmasked for me?"

"Well, you've more or less unmasked for everyone," she pointed out logically.

"Yeah, but ..."

"And besides," she added, "you already know more about me than anyone else does. If anyone knows who I am under the mask, you do."

I blinked. "That's ... a point. Thanks, Hannah. I appreciate it. This ride would've been a lot more nerve-wracking if I didn't know for a fact that I could trust the driver."

She gave me an odd look, which I didn't know how to interpret.

"You were really worried?" she asked.

"More concerned than worried," I admitted. "I mean, I was fairly certain nothing significant was going to happen, but there's a fair spread between 'nothing' and 'nothing significant'."

"Hm," she commented. "I never told you my name."

"Sorry. I show off when I'm nervous."

A slim eyebrow raised. "You don't look nervous."

"Trust me. Inside, I'm sweating up a storm."

She chuckled. "'Trust me'. People tell me you say that a lot."

"Another nervous habit."

"Ah."

"Also, because for people to not trust me, and drop the ball right at the wrong moment ... urgh. All this work, undone."

"Work?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm trying to save the world. It's as simple as that. Also, trying to save as many people as possible."

"I'm not sure about the distinction, there."

I considered trying to explain. "Hm. Long story. Really long story. Maybe after all this is over, I can try to explain it to you."

"Is it really that complex?"

"No. There are very few people who will believe it. You might. I have to get to know you better before I decide on that one."

"Ah," she replied, apparently pleased. "Thank you."

"So everything went okay with Dinah?" I asked, more for anything to say than anything else.

"Totally uneventful," she assured me. "No-one even remotely suspicious showed their faces."

I nodded. "Good. That's perfect."

"Really?" she asked, frowning. "No attempt at all was made, and you say it's good?"

I chuckled. "Oh, one was made all right. It must have failed spectacularly."

She stared at me. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You will," I assured her. "Anyway, how did the mop-up at the bank go?"

"The dogs were retrieved without harm." She paused. "Hellhound, uh, Bitch, refused to give up the location of her other dogs, however."

I closed my eyes and hit the headrest with my head; a soft thump. "Dammit," I muttered. "I think it's at an unfinished construction site somewhere, not sure exactly where."

"Oh, we know where," she informed me briskly. "Tattletale told us."

I gave her a dirty look. "You were testing me."

"You seem to enjoy showing off your knowledge," she pointed out seriously. "It's in our best interests to be certain that you won't make up stuff on the spot."

I considered that. "Fair point. So, the dogs?"

"We've already sent people to make sure they're okay."

"Good." I settled back to enjoy the ride.

At that moment, she pulled up the scarf, just as the PRT building came into view. She drove around to the back, and into an underground carpark. In the cool dimness, we climbed out of the vehicle, and headed for the elevator.

"I'm guessing the Wards' base is two below this one?" I commented as the doors folded open.

"Yes, you are correct," she agreed. "If you want, when you have spare time, we can arrange a tour."

"I'd like to meet them," I agreed. "Listen, can you keep something to yourself?"

"Of course."

"If the steps I've taken work out, Leviathan will hopefully not hit Brockton Bay on May the fifteenth," I told her quietly. "But if he did, Gallant and Aegis would have been among the casualties. Or rather, that's one set of probabilities. If I hadn't been here to tell you this. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"You've changed things."

"Yeah. Lots of things. Hopefully for the better."

She stared at me. "How can you know this?"

I chuckled. "Long, long story."

The elevator stopped. We stepped out, walked the short distance to Director Piggot's office.

"Director," I greeted her. "Thank you for sending Miss Militia."

She nodded curtly. "Are you aware that Panacea and Glory Girl are here to see you?"

"Ah, excellent, they made it."

"You invited them?"

I shrugged. "I thought they might come in handy." I dusted off my hands. "But first ... Canary is somewhere in this building, right? I think I want to see her first."

=/=/=

"You'll need ear protection."

"No, I won't."

The PRT guard offered me the earplugs again. "Yes, you will. She's a Master. She controls people with her voice."

"She led a perfectly normal life for months before the incident. No-one else accidentally mutilated themselves. And it takes more than a word or two for her to gain influence over someone."

His voice indicated disbelief. "You can't know that, sir."

"Okay, fine, I'll take the damn earplugs."

I put them in; as I was cycling through the airlock-style door, I pulled them out again.

She was somehow prettier than I'd expected, even in the prison sweats. Her hair was a startling yellow, along with the feathers that stuck out of her scalp here and there.

As I entered the cell, she stood, looking apprehensive.

"Hi, Paige. I'm Mike. People around here call me Security. Are they treating you all right?"

She picked up a pen and marker board; obviously the main way she had of comunicating with ear-plugged guards. I waved it away. "Just talk. I'm good."

She spoke. Good god, her voice was amazing.

"You're ... Security? Dragon told me. You're the one who got me out of prison, out of the trial."

I nodded. "That's me. I thought you might come in handy for a little job I'm planning. You game?"

She stared. "Why aren't you scared of me, of my voice? Everyone else is."

My voice was heavy with sarcasm; no doubt this cell was wired to a fare-thee-well. "Everyone else is a dick."

She laughed; she couldn't help it. "But how do you know –"

I grinned. "Let's just say ... I know things. I know what you said to your boyfriend, and why. And I know it would have been a travesty of justice to send you to the Birdcage. So I decided, when this came up, that what the hell, I'd help you out at the same time."

"But you don't know me –"

I raised an eyebrow. "I know you better than you think. And I know this. I know you're a good person, someone who would rather help than harm. Which is why you're here, instead of in a courtroom with your hands in buckets of containment foam and a horrible gag in your mouth."

She was silent, staring at me. I took a step forward. "Listen, we have to go places, but before we do, would you like a hug?"

She was hesitant at first, but then her arms were around me, and I was patting her gently on the back. Her shoulders shook, and I felt dampness on my shirt. That was fine; I just held her and let her cry.

Eventually, she pulled back, her eyes a little reddened. I offered her my handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"Feeling better?" I asked.

She smiled wanly. "Yes," she whispered.

"Excellent," I told her. "Now, I personally know you aren't about to try to Master everyone here, but not everyone else does. So let's keep your dialogue to a minimum for the time being, okay?"

She nodded seriously. "But they aren't about to let me out of this cell."

I chuckled. "Let's see about that."

There was an intercom button beside the door. I pressed it.

"Yes?"

"I'd like to come out."

"So come out."

"With the prisoner."

"I can't authorise that."

"Call someone who can."

We waited. A few moments later, the intercom buzzed. "Security?"

"Ah, Director. Yes. I'd like to bring Canary in on this. That is, out of her cell."

"Out of the question."

I sighed. "Director, I know for a fact that she won't cause problems."

There was a long pause. "How certain are you of this?"

"Absolutely."

"Then come ahead. But if there's any problems –"

"There won't be. She's already promised to be quiet."

"Very well, but against my better judgement."

"You won't regret this."

A sigh, rendered into an electronic crackle. "I already do."

A few moments later, both doors opened at the same time. The guard gestured us out, keeping a watchful eye on Canary. I allowed her to go first; wide-eyed, she stepped from the cell. I followed.

"So," I said briskly to the guard. "Where are you keeping the Undersiders?"

End of Part Twenty-One