Security!

Chapter Twenty-Five: Points of View

Director Emily Piggot, PRT

Emily's desk phone rang; without taking her eyes from the images and text scrolling across the screen, she picked it up.

"Piggot."

"Director, I have a call for you."

"Who is it from?"

"She refuses to say."

"Then why are you bothering me with this?"

"She says it's about Security."

She didn't hesitate. "Put her through, but put a trace on the line."

Moments later, she heard the dead air of a new line. "Director Piggot here. Who am I speaking to?"

The voice was soft, almost inaudible. "I – my name is Kayden Anders, Director. I need to get a message through to Security."

That name sounded familiar. Piggot scrolled back through the infodump that had been in her inbox that morning.

Her voice was sharp when she answered. "Kayden Anders, as in Purity? Second in command of the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

"Yes," replied Purity, if indeed that was her. "But not part of Empire Eighty-Eight. Not any more."

Director Piggot's voice was icy. "You can say that all you like. But actions speak louder than words. Why are you calling, and what do you know about Security?"

"I – he called me yesterday, to warn me about the outing of Empire Eighty-Eight, and to suggest that I get out of town."

The Director was momentarily dumbfounded, then she nodded slowly. Yes, he might just do that. He has odd ideas about villains.

"So get to the point. Why do you want to contact him now?"

"Because Kaiser – Max – called me a little earlier, and I told him how I knew about it. About Security."

The Director suppressed a groan. Oh shit. Now Kaiser is gunning for Security. That's all I need.

"Let's backtrack a moment. Why exactly did Security tell you about the outing?"

"He said he didn't want my child being taken away from me."

Piggot scrolled through the data on Kayden Anders, aka Purity.

There was an infant child, all right. Aster Klara Anders. There was even a photo; she looked adorable.

She paused for a moment, wondering exactly what someone of Purity's power level would be willing to do in order to retrieve her child, should the baby be taken away from her.

Quite a lot, I would imagine.

I wonder if Mr Allen just helped us dodge a bullet, there.

That's not my problem. He revealed details of a PRT operation to villains.

Or did he? The operation didn't even exist, when he told Purity that something was going to happen.

But he proposed it to us, knowing that Purity knew about it.

She sighed. I'm going to need to have a long, serious talk with that man. Very soon. We need to discuss concepts such as 'operational security' and 'risking the lives of good men'.

In the meantime …

"Ms Anders? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here, Director. Will you tell him?"

"How much does Kaiser know about Security?"

"Just that he exists. But he has many contacts in Brockton Bay. He can probably find out more, if he really tries. And if he decides that Security is the one who actually outed him ..."

"I get it. I will tell him. Your assistance is acknowledged, but understand this. If you return to Brockton Bay, a warrant will be issued for your arrest."

"But I haven't had anything to do with Max, or Empire Eighty-Eight, for more than a year!"

Piggot's voice was implacable. "That doesn't change the fact that you committed crimes, and aided and abetted in others, while you were with them. You are a criminal, Ms Anders, and if you show your face in Brockton Bay, you will be treated as one."

There was no answer; just a beep and then a dial tone. She hit a couple of buttons on her intercom.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Did you manage to put a trace on that call?"

"We traced it as far as Boston, ma'am. But we think the caller used a burner phone."

"Hm. Thank you." She hung up the phone.

Allen did a villain a favour, and now his life is on the line. Why does this not surprise me?

=/=

Amelia Claire Lavere (Panacea)

Amy yawned and stretched, and blinked her way to wakefulness. She could hear a shower running.

"Oh, sorry," she heard a voice say quietly. "Did I wake you? I didn't mean to."

She was momentarily confused. That's not Vicky.

As more of her brain came online, she began to register her surroundings. This isn't my bedroom. What's going on here?

And then she remembered the events of the day before; the bank, the security guard, the mission to take down Coil. Associating with the very villains who had attempted to rob the bank, as well as the hero who had foiled them. Weaver, also known as Taylor Hebert.

She rolled over, to see Taylor – tall, skinny, glasses, long curly hair – pulling on a running shoe.

"Good morning," she murmured. "What are you doing?"

"Going running," Taylor replied with a grin, holding up the second shoe. "I do it every morning. Want to come with?"

Amy propped herself up on one elbow. "Running?" she repeated. "Like, not just a brisk walk?"

Taylor shrugged. "We can do a brisk walk today, if you want. Just so long as we work up a sweat."

Amy had never made a practice of running before. If she needed to get anywhere in a hurry, Vicky was there to give her a lift. I guess, so long as I'm doing new things anyway …

Before she could change her mind – the bed was so soft and warm and comfortable – she pulled back the covers and got up. "Sure, I guess," she agreed, cracking a yawn in the middle of the last word. "Where's my suitcase?"

It didn't take her long to select clothes suitable for running; she had a set of sweats that she had worn to the gym a few times, before she fell out of the habit. A pair of soft-soled shoes had been tucked in as an afterthought; she pulled these on and knotted the laces.

Taylor let them out the back door, closing it carefully behind them. As she did so, the sound of the shower ceased.

"Dad'll be cooking breakfast now," she told Amy. "It should be about ready by the time we get back."

Wow, Mark never cooks breakfast. But Amy knew that was due to her foster father's chronic depression. And Carol was generally in a hurry to get to work, so whatever got cooked in the morning was usually up to Vicky and Amy.

She found she was looking forward to it. "That should be nice."

"It is." Taylor opened the side gate so they could get out. "Okay, let's see how you do. You set the pace; I'll stay with you."

The sun wasn't really even up yet, and the chilly air stung her throat. But Amy found that she was enjoying it, enjoying the early-morning birdsong, the stretch and pull of her muscles, the overall experience of being outside this early in the day.

She moved at a half-jog, half-walk, with Taylor pacing easily beside her. Soon she found herself puffing heavily, but kept at it; subconsciously, she altered bacteria in her throat to produce oxygen, making it easier for her to get what she needed.

"It's … not … fair … " she complained, when they stopped for a breather.

"What's not fair?" asked Taylor, looking mildly concerned.

"Your … legs … longer … than … mine."

Taylor chuckled. "That, and I've been doing this since February."

Amy shot her a dirty look.

Taylor shrugged. "I've gotten used to it."

"But you're a Master," Amy pointed out. "Why do you need to be so fit?"

Taylor patted her belly, firm and flat under the sweats. "So I didn't look like an upright frog in my costume."

Amy tried to laugh, doubled over and coughed with her hands on her knees. Taylor patted her on the back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Amy assured her, standing up straight, and taking deep breaths. "I guess even Masters should be able to run away if they have to."

"And I've got spider silk armour for when I can't," Taylor agreed. She nodded to Amy. "You should really have some sort of body armour, given that you're a healer who has to be right there next to the person you're healing."

"Yeah, but I can't afford it," Amy pointed out practically.

Taylor looked her up and down. "Give me a little time, and I could probably work something up for you."

Amy stared at her. "You'd do that for me?"

Taylor shrugged. "Sure. I'd guess Vicky wouldn't need any, but you sure do."

"Wow, okay. That sounds cool."

"It'll take a while," Taylor warned her, "and I'll need all your measurements. And we'll have to do fittings."

"I don't mind," Amy grinned. "I'm not going out in costume for the next month anyway." She paused. "What spiders do you use for the costume, anyway?"

Taylor grinned back. "Black widows. They have the second strongest webbing in the world." She bent over, stretching her hamstrings.

Amy was a little startled that Taylor so casually alluded to working with such dangerous creatures. But then, she's got the least to worry about, from them. "What's got the strongest webbing?"

Taylor sighed. "Darwin's Bark spiders, but they're native to Madagascar. I've really got no way to get hold of them."

"I might be able to help you with that," Amy told her thoughtfully.

"Yeah? How? Can you import foreign spiders?"

"No, but what if I modified a black widow for stronger webbing?"

Taylor's eyes opened wide. "You can do that?"

It was Amy's turn to shrug carelessly. "Sure. All we need to do is test it to make sure it's actually stronger. Say, after school?"

Taylor nodded. "Sure. Sure. We can definitely do that." She nodded in the direction of home. "You seem to have caught your breath. Shall we get back?" A grin. "Breakfast awaits."

Amy was suddenly very hungry. "Give me a ten minute head start, and I'll race you there."

Their laughter trailed off down the street as they started back.

=/=

Gladys Knott

Gladys was just getting off the bus at Winslow when a phone rang in her bag. It wasn't her phone; or rather, it wasn't her ringtone. Curious, she fished it out.

Oh dear. I must have put Michael's phone in my bag by accident.

Pressing the 'answer' button, she put it to her ear.

"Hello, this is Michael Allen's phone. Gladys Knott speaking."

There was a pause on the line; she could tell that someone was there, but they weren't speaking.

"Hello?"

"Mrs Knott, this is Director Piggot of the PRT. Is Mr Allen there?"

Gladys frowned. How does she know to call me 'Mrs' Knott?

But that wasn't important. "Ah, no. I'm very sorry. He, uh, misplaced his phone, and I found it." Just now, in my bag.

Director Piggot's voice was noncommittal. "I see. Can you get a message to him?"

"I will probably see him at school, yes."

"Good. Please tell him that Mr Anders is looking for him."

"I am to tell him that Mr Anders is looking for him."

"Exactly. Thank you, Mrs Knott."

"My pleasure, Director."

The call cut off, and Gladys stared at the phone.

Now I wonder what that was all about?

=/=

Lisa Wilbourn (Tattletale)

The guest quarters were comfortable, if not luxurious. Brian and Alec shared one room, while Lisa and Rachel shared the other. Breakfast was actually quite good, considering that they were effectively prisoners. Brian was finishing his portion when Lisa, across the table, suddenly slapped herself on the forehead.

"Christ!" she exclaimed. "He was right again!"

"Who, Security?" he asked.

She nodded in irritation. "Day before yesterday, he made a prediction when I was chatting to him online. Told me that I'd be feeling much better about things in twenty-four hours' time."

Brian glanced around as Alec wandered out from the bedroom, then back at Lisa. "And were you?"

She nodded. "This was twenty-four hours before we took down Coil."

"Hah!" She could tell that Brian was amused at her irritation; it only made her more so. "Sorry, but you have to admit, that's sort of badass, to make that sort of prediction a full day in advance."

"This is the guy," she reminded him, "whose face you wanted to beat in for getting us all captured."

"Yeah, true," he agreed. "Still, they've been treating us with kid gloves. I wonder why."

She rolled her eyes. "We helped take down a major villain and threat to Brockton Bay. They're trying to figure what to do with us next."

Alec flopped on to the couch and grabbed the remote. He turned the big-screen TV on, watching indolently. But then he sat up.

"Holy shit, guys," he called out, his voice tense. "You should see this."

That was the most excitement either of them had heard from Alec in all the time they had known him. They turned to look at the TV. When they saw what was scrolling down the screen, they turned to stare at each other.

"Holy -" began Brian.

"- shit," finished Lisa.

"Kaiser has to be pissed," added Alec unnecessarily.

"Kinda glad that we aren't in the firing line for this, all of a sudden," observed Brian.

"Wonder who did do it," commented Alec idly.

Lisa's eyes opened wide as several connections made themselves known at once. "Coil. Oh shit." She jumped up and ran into the room she was sharing with Rachel.

The auburn-haired girl looked around with irritation, a brush in her hand, as Brutus jumped to his feet in surprise. "What the fuck?"

Lisa didn't bother with niceties. "Were you keeping your dogs where I told the PRT you had them, or somewhere else?"

Rachel glared at her. "What's it to you?"

"Was I right, or wasn't I?" pressed Lisa. "This is serious. They could be in danger."

"I never moved them," Rachel told her. "Why? What's going on?"

"Empire Eighty-Eight's just been outed. Unmasked. Everyone in it." Lisa was already on her way out of the room.

"What? How did that happen?" Rachel got up and followed her. Brutus trotted behind Rachel.

"Fucking Coil." Lisa went to the intercom and pressed the button. "Hey, out there. Need to talk to someone in charge."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer asshole, you ask me," commented Alec.

"Yeah, but -" began Lisa, only to be interrupted by the intercom.

"What's your problem?"

Lisa hit the button again. "I said someone in charge, not a corporal. I need an officer, or Piggot if she's available."

In the silence that followed, she turned back to Alec. "The problem is that they'll be lashing out at everyone around them. Everyone who's ever clashed with them is a suspect. If we -"

"Lieutenant Drummond here. What's your problem?"

Lisa turned back to the intercom. "Nice try, Sergeant, but I suppose you'll have to do. Get on to the real Drummond and let him know that there's a couple of your men in imminent danger right now."

"What? Who? How do you even know this?"

Lisa sighed. "It's what I do, Sergeant. The men in question are the ones that were sent to care for the dogs belonging to Hellhound, of the Undersiders. They're located right next to Empire Eighty-Eight territory. E88's just been unmasked, all of them. They'll be lashing out at everyone around them. I repeat, your men are in danger."

There was a pause.

"Thanks for that information, Tattletale, but those men would have already been pulled back."

Rachel lunged forward and jammed her finger on the button. "What about my dogs, asshole? What about my dogs?"

"Sorry, kid, but they're on their own."

The intercom clicked off. Rachel turned to the others; her eyes seemed to be glowing with an inner light. Beside her, Brutus caught her mood, and growled softly.

"Like fuck they are."

=/=

Danny Hebert

"This is really good, Mr Hebert!"

Danny grinned as Amy spoke with her mouth half-full of omelette.

"Well, eat up," he advised her. "Whatever you and Taylor don't finish, put in the fridge for later.". He raised a finger. "And call me Danny. Calling me 'Mr Hebert' makes me feel old."

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Sure I'm sure," he told her. "You're a guest in my home. It's all good."

She ate some more omelette. "Thanks again for letting me stay here," she told him after she had swallowed the forkful.

"It's really not a problem," he assured her. "Besides, you needed a place to stay, and Mike Allen's done a lot for Taylor. So we're glad to have you."

Draping his coat over his shoulder, he headed for the door. "See you this afternoon, Amy."

"See you later, Danny," he heard her say, just before he shut the door.

Heading around to the side of the house, he unlocked the car and got in. Starting it up, he backed down the driveway to the street.

Nice kid, he thought as he drove off down the road. Taylor likes her, too. I think we'll get along just fine.

A thought made him smile. A week ago I didn't have any superheroes living with me. Now I've got two. What's it going to be like next week? A whole team?

=/=

Rachel Lindt (Bitch)

Rachel whistled sharply, and Brutus rammed his head into the wall of the guest quarters. It buckled and gave way, even as the hastily-installed nozzles spat containment foam, only to be thwarted by bedsheets held up by the other three.

Shouts of alarm by the PRT soldiers manning the guard post outside the door indicated just how badly they had been taken by surprise. Fuckers don't know how strong my dogs get, and how fast I can make them grow, when I have to.

Lisa had told her to take Brutus into the bathroom, as if to give the dog a bath, and turn the shower on cold. Starting the transformation in there, Brutus was quite large before he wouldn't fit under the shower any more. By that time, his outer layers (so Lisa claimed) would be composed of dead flesh, much harder to spot with heat sensors.

She felt more than a little drained from that last growth spurt, but it had done the job. He bashed the wall again, enlarging the hole, and then Rachel swung astride his back, ducking low so she didn't hit her head on the ceiling.

The room filled with blackness, but she knew where the windows were. She urged Brutus that way, emerging from the cloud just before they hit it. A nudge of the knee and a whistle, and Brutus turned, kicking out with powerful hind legs. The window shattered outward, and she urged her mount back, out over the yawning chasm.

Just before Brutus started the descent, iron-hard claws wrenching holes in the outside window glass, she shouted through the open window.

"Get the other dogs! You promised!"

She would have given anything to go with them, to extract Judas and Angelina from wherever the PRT were holding them, but she had her other dogs to save.

Only Grue would have heard her words through his muffling fog, but he was enough. She trusted him, as much as she trusted anyone.

A word and a nudge, and Brutus turned and galloped down the frontage of the building, claws digging in and swinging them around to a stop, every few floors. When she judged them low enough, she turned him, gave a command, and he leaped across the gap between the PRT building and the next one over.

Through all of this, she clung on to his back, one thought uppermost in her mind.

I'm going to save my dogs.

=/=

Michael Allen (Security)

The bus pulled up at Winslow, and Mike climbed off of it. He hefted the backpack holding his equipment belt over his shoulder, and strolled toward the school. It had been a very eventful week; he was just glad it was Friday. Today would mark the end of the week's efforts in more than one way; tonight, he would pass on what knowledge he had regarding Scion and how to save the world.

Personally, he didn't have a hope in hell of implementing one-tenth of that knowledge in any reasonable fashion. He just had to hope that the ones that did, were in a mood to listen.

There was also the very real chance that he would be arrested afterward, for any one of several bendings or breakings of the law.

Perhaps he could have done it differently, but he hadn't seen a choice, at the time. And if it all worked out, if the world was indeed saved, would it be worth it?

I'll just have to wait and see.

Mulling over that, he climbed the steps and entered the school proper. Down the hallways he walked, the tread of his heavy work boots echoing from the bare walls.

"Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero; he is everything."

He chuckled as he recalled the Raymond Chandler quote. For a moment there, he had been imagining the halls of Winslow as the 'mean streets'. And me as the hero. Hah.

People like me don't get to be the heroes. We get to enable the heroes. Ask Hollywood.

He was still musing over the unfairness of the almost universal portrayal of the action hero as a straight, white, relatively young, fit male, when he entered the staff break room.

"Michael!" His head came up as he heard Gladys' voice.

"Morning, Gladys," he greeted her politely, mindful of those teachers already in the room.

"Can I have a word? I need to show you what those little vandals have been doing."

He nodded. "Sure. I'll just put my lunch pack in the fridge."

That task done, he followed her out of the staff room. She looked down at his belt. "Oh, I thought so."

He looked down at his belt. "Thought what?"

She reached down and plucked the phone from the belt pouch, then showed him an identical phone in her hand. "Guess what you picked up from my place?"

"Oh gawd." He rolled his eyes in self-recrimination. "Your phone. Shit, I'm sorry." Thumbing the phone to life, he checked the screen. "Well, at least I haven't missed any calls. Thanks for bringing it in."

She checked her own phone, which was also clear of pending calls. "Ah, you did get a call. From a certain Director Piggot."

Mike's eyebrows went up, and he turned to stroll away down the corridor, away from a group of teachers who had emerged from the staff room. Gladys strolled with him. "And what did the winsome Emily Piggot want?"

Gladys frowned. "She wanted me to pass on a message; she was quite insistent about it. She said to tell you that a Mr Anders is looking for you."

For a moment, Mike was puzzled. I don't know any -

Oh shit. Yes, I do.

He turned to her. "That's exactly what she said. A Mr Anders is looking for me? Nothing more?"

She shook her head doubtfully. "Nothing that I recall."

He nodded slowly. "Right. Okay." A deep breath. "I'm going to have to call off our date tomorrow, then."

She stared at him. "Michael Allen! Don't you dare!"

"I – I don't have a choice," he confessed. "I think I screwed up, and now I've got a supervillain gunning for me."

She pulled him into her classroom, and closed the door firmly. "You had better tell me more than that, Mr Allen, or you'll have more than a supervillain after your blood."

He took another deep breath. "Okay. Last night, we took down a pretty nasty villain. One of the things he was doing was gathering a dossier on Empire Eighty-Eight."

"A dossier?"

"Information on who each and every last one of them is. Real names, faces, the lot."

She nodded. "In other words, explosive information."

"More like thermonuclear. Disseminating information like that is akin to touching off a nuclear war. No holds are barred. It's why they have unwritten rules."

"So … you took him down. The information is safe, is it not?"

Mike grimaced. "Apparently not. If Kaiser – Max Anders – is after me, it's because I told his wife to get out of town, yesterday."

Gladys stared at him. "You did what?"

Mike shrugged. "You've heard of Purity?"

"Yes, of course. She's a powerful flying blaster."

"Her real name is Kayden, she's been separated from Max for a year or more, and she has an utterly adorable infant child called Aster. If I hadn't warned her, then Child Services may well have taken Aster away, or tried to. Kayden is … let's say, fanatically protective of her child."

"Oh. Oh, my."

Mike nodded. "Exactly. I warned her because I didn't want the bloodbath that occurred when they did take Aster away, in the other timeline. And it turns out that there was another dossier, probably on an offsite system. And it looks like it dumped it online last night. Max contacts Kayden, she tells him that she's out of town, drops my name -"

She put both hands to her mouth. "Oh, Michael!"

He shook his head. "Not my real name. Just 'Security'. So now he's looking for Security. Probably for answers to questions like 'you warned my wife but not me – why?'"

"Uh – why didn't you?"

His voice was flat. "Because Kaiser is a racist, manipulative neo-Nazi son of a bitch, and I won't give him the time of day if I can possibly help it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Well, in the first place, I'm going to retire 'Security'. I think I'll stay as small-S 'security' for the time being."

"And in the second place?"

"Make zero waves. Drop off the radar. After tonight, I'm going to stay home all weekend and talk to as few people as possible."

She frowned. "Could you not seek protective custody?"

He chuckled wryly. "I'm a little on the nose with the PRT right now. A little matter of a few broken laws, and not telling them everything until quite a bit after the fact."

"But still. Kaiser."

He nodded reluctantly. "You have a point. Maybe I will."

"Good," she told him. "Because I -"

At that moment, his phone rang. He let it ring, waiting for Gladys to finish; she gestured for him to get it.

Pulling it out, he touched the green icon.

"Hello?"

"Ah, you have your phone back, then." He recognised Director Piggot's voice.

"I do indeed, thank you. And I got your message. Is this about that?"

"No, it is not. It is about the Undersiders."

He felt a chill run down his back. "What about them? What's happened?"

"They've escaped, that's what happened."

Mike shook his head. "No, no, that's not right. I had it sorted. You knew what each of them wanted from you. It was going to happen."

"Well, it's unhappened. They broke out – using the dog you so kindly allowed Ms Lindt to have."

"No, seriously, what happened? What went wrong? What changed?"

"I'm still investigating the situation, but it is clear that they have escaped from lawful custody. When we next see the Undersiders, they will be treated as criminals."

"Look, can you hold off on any arrest warrants till you find out what set them off?" pleaded Mike. "It had to be something."

"It's too late, Mr Allen," he heard Piggot's implacable voice. "You don't call the shots around here. That capability falls to me, and I say they are criminals. Which reminds me; there are other matters that the PRT would like to discuss with you."

All of a sudden, Mike had an epiphany. The lightbulb that flashed on over his head was almost blinding in its intensity.

"Ah. I get it. I see what you're doing here."

"You do?"

"Yes." Mike's voice was flat. "You want answers to questions, and you're going to hold anything and everything you can hostage until I give."

The silence that greeted his statement was as good as a signed confession.

"Am I right?"

"Not ... necessarily, but it would be good to get the answers to certain questions."

"In other words, yes. Right. Fine. I'll give you chapter and verse."

"When and where?"

"I'm holding a get-together at my place tonight, but I'll contact you afterward to sort something out."

"I will be awaiting your call."

She hung up; after a moment, he closed the call at his end.

Gladys was staring at him. "That did not sound good."

He shook his head. "That was the sound of a great many chickens coming home to roost. And some of them are pterodactyls."

"Oh, Michael." She took him in her arms; for a long moment, he held her, felt her arms holding him. Refuge from a crazy, unfair world.

But then he had to disengage from her. "I have to do my rounds," he told her. "And think. Mainly think."

She nodded, and pecked him quickly on the lips. "For luck," she murmured.

He smiled and held her hand for just a moment. "Thanks."

And then he pushed his way out through the door, and started on his rounds.

What the fuck do I do now?

=/=

Brian Laborn (Grue)

"Lisa! Which way?"

Brian sent a fresh wave of darkness down the corridor that they had just come from. A PRT soldier was probing his way through the darkness, gun raised. Brian found it hard to believe that the man could not see him, but of course the darkness cloaked all sight.

"Alec!" he snapped, drawing the slim youth off to the side. The soldier emerged from the billows of darkness, and Alec acted; immediately, the soldier seemed to suffer a seizure, dancing and shaking before falling to the ground. Brian rolled him over, pulled zip-ties from the man's belt, and secured him with them.

"You know," observed Alec, "you could just pop 'em. They're trying to shoot us, after all." He had a bloody graze on one arm, relic of a close encounter a few minutes before.

"No," Brian told him firmly. "No killing, not here."

"Got 'em," Lisa announced, almost at the same time. "Down this way."

Spreading darkness as widely as he could, Brian led the way, guided by Lisa. It was only a few minutes later that they found the room in which Rachel's two dogs were incarcerated. They looked up, wagging their tails, at the familiar scents.

"Come on Judas, come on Angelica," Brian coaxed them. "Heel."

They trotted out of the room readily enough, and sat at his heel.

"Right," muttered Alec. "All we have to do now is fight our way out of here."

"Easiest thing in the world," grinned Lisa. Striding to a nearby wall, she grabbed the protruding toggle of a fire alarm, and yanked it.

The sirens were still blaring, some minutes later, as they made their way down to the ground floor in the midst of a crowd of civilian employees. Lisa had located closets holding spare clothing, and they moved along with everyone else. Sprinklers were going off in some areas, which made everyone equally bedraggled. Judas and Angelica moved at Brian's heels as if they were glued there.

The ground floor lobby posed another problem; armoured PRT troopers stood surveying the crowd as they surged through the doors and outside. They held containment foam sprayers at the ready.

"Cute," Lisa observed. "Hit 'em with your darkness, and they just hose down that area."

Brian nodded. "Alec?"

Down below, one of the PRT troopers turned sideways and let fly; the other troopers were mostly caught unawares; some fired back. Containment foam flew wildly. The civilians cried out, threatening panic.

Brian released his darkness, spreading it over the whole room. He held Alec's wrist; Lisa was behind Alec. Together, they wormed their way through the crowd; by virtue of his superior strength and height, Brian was able to keep moving forward.

At last, they were clear, in the midst of a spreading cloud of darkness. They hiked two blocks before they felt safe in ducking into an alley and removing their disguises. Lisa let her hair down from the bun, and discarded the glasses she had found on someone's desk; she immediately looked sixteen again.

"Okay," decided Brian. "Let's go meet up with Bitch."

=/=

Taylor Anne Hebert (Weaver)

Taylor found Mike sitting on his folding chair, at the top of the steps. He seemed more pensive than normal; she sat on the step nearby and started on her lunch.

After a few moments, he looked down at her. "Hey. How's it going with Amy?"

She grinned up at him. "It's great. Did you know she's a biokinetic?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

She gave him a dirty look. "You knew."

A nod. "Sure, but that's one of the reasons I had her placed with you."

She stared. "You wanted us to meet?"

"Yup. She fiddles living things. Bugs are living things."

Her stare intensified. "We were talking about that just last night!"

He took a drink from his juice popper. "Imagine that." A grin. "There's a word I'd like you to consider."

Her tone was wary. "What word?"

"'Synergy'."

She blinked rapidly behind her glasses. "When two things work together to get a result greater than the sum of the parts." A pause, while she thought rapidly. "Amy and me."

He nodded. "Yup. Have you already discussed this sort of thing?"

"Yeah. She wants to try to engineer a black widow with a stronger silk."

"As strong as the Darwin's bark spider, for instance?" Mike suggested innocently.

"How do you – right, of course you'd know that," Taylor realised. "But yeah. We're gonna work on it after school."

"Cool. But you know, there's other things you and she can work on, once you get that done."

She was intrigued. "Such as?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Let me tell you a story of something that happened, once upon a time, and didn't happen, all at the same time. Or to put it another way, it didn't happen yesterday, in the Brockton Bay Central Bank."

With those words, he had her complete and total attention. "Is this about … me and the Undersiders?"

He nodded. "Now, you had tried to be a hero. You met Lung, and the Undersiders saved you from him. But afterward, you met Armsmaster, and he was a bit of a dick. So when the Undersiders offered you a place, you took it. You were still trying to be a hero, so you decided to go undercover, to turn the Undersiders in. All you needed was the name of their boss."

"Coil," Taylor supplied, to show she was paying attention.

"Give the lady a cigar. But you didn't know that then. However, when you contacted Armsmaster to try to sort out a deal so that if things went pear-shaped during the bank robbery, you wouldn't be arrested. He was kind of pissed at you, because he hadn't paid attention when you told him that Lung had lots of venom in him -"

"Which is why you had me stress it to the PRT guys!" Taylor realised.

"Exactly and precisely," he agreed. "Lung in that timeline nearly died. He did lose something very important to him. It grew back, but he was very, very pissed at you."

Taylor's eyes opened wide. "Ew," she muttered. "Ew ew ew."

Mike grinned momentarily. "Yeah," he agreed. "So anyway, Armsmaster shut you down hard. So when you went into the bank, you were on your own. So you decided to do your best on your own. One of the first things that you did when you went in was place a black widow, or two, or three, on everyone in there."

She was shocked. "I'd never -"

"Oh, you never intended to harm anyone, and you didn't," he assured her. "It was just to make sure that no-one tried to be a hero, and get themselves or others hurt."

She nodded judiciously. "I can see that. Sort of. In a twisted way, that makes sense."

He chuckled. "You were feeling so damn guilty, right then."

She stared at him. "How do you – never mind. What happened then?"

"Well, remember who else was in that bank?"

Taylor nodded. "Panacea."

"Exactly. She had a go at clocking you with a fire extinguisher. You might say, she tried to put your lights out with it."

Taylor groaned. "That was bad."

A grin from Mike. "Thanks."

"Wait a minute." Taylor was thinking hard. "I can locate my bugs. How did she get so close to me?"

Mike held his finger in the air. "Ah. Here we discover the nub of the story. She had located the black widows, and she had … manipulated them. Interfered with the feedback you get from them. Basically, she fiddled with the part of their brain that receives the signal you send to them. You were getting a headache, a horrible feedback loop, that screwed with your ability to locate them. Everyone else, you see, was heading upstairs and out of harm's way, while she took you on with the fire extinguisher."

"Wow," breathed Taylor. "That's all kinds of heroic."

Mike nodded. "She did her best. Unfortunately for her, Tattletale interfered, pointed out the spiders on her, and you killed them. It got messy. Panacea and Glory Girl got hurt, mentally and physically. After that, there was no way you two would ever develop a close friendship, or anything resembling trust."

Taylor grimaced. "Ouch." She paused. "But this time round … "

Mike nodded. "Exactly. She's going to need a friend, and a moral compass, someone to talk things over with. I can't think of a better choice."

Taylor felt her cheeks heating up. "Okay, wow. I'm going to be blushing for the rest of the day."

Mike spread his hands. "It's true. Now, there's a sort-of kind-of epilogue for this story."

"I'm all ears."

"Some little time later, after Leviathan, the Slaughterhouse Nine and I think Echidna had their turns on Brockton Bay -"

Taylor interrupted. "Wait – Echidna?"

Mike nodded. "You met her. A nice girl called Noelle Meinhardt."

"Oh yeah, I remember." Taylor paused. "What … did she do, in the other timeline?"

Mike's voice was bleak. "Killed lots of people. Including some capes. Myrddin, among others. Completed the collapse of Coil's base. And exposed something that caused a mega-crapton of problems, later on."

"Exposed what?"

Mike shook his head. "Not here. Not now. Perhaps later."

"That bad, huh?"

"Let's put it this way; I'm not even going to tell you the name."

"Oh, wow. So; Slaughterhouse Nine, Leviathan and this Echidna have had their turn, you were saying?"

"Yeah," confirmed Mike. "Actually, I think it was while you were working on booting the Nine out of Brockton Bay. She gave you some bugs. At the time, she didn't trust you as far as she could throw you. Given that you laid an extendible baton upside her head in the bank, once upon a time."

"I don't have an extendible baton," Taylor observed. "Where can I get one?"

"I can get you one," Mike offered.

"Really?"

Mike nodded. "Anyway, we're getting off track. These bugs she gave you, they extended the range of your power. Basically, they acted as a relay. But she made them without digestive systems, so they'd die in a few days." He gave her a grin. "But this time round … "

Taylor's head was spinning with the possibilities. "Oh god yes."

"Just be sure they won't breed into plague proportions," he warned her. "My suggestion is to have her make them with the ability to mate, but no instinct to do so. You have to actually control them and make them mate. That way, if a bunch leave your range, they just live but don't breed."

Taylor nodded. "Yes, that makes sense. A lot of sense."

Mike grinned. "Good. Just remember; a power like Amy's, coupled with a power like yours, could easily lead to some horribly overpowered situations. This could draw the attention of the PRT. Very unfriendly attention. So keep a lid on it. Keep everything under strict control. Got it?"

Taylor nodded earnestly. "Got it. And thanks. Really, thanks."

He stood up and stretched. "Excellent. I've been meaning to have that particular chat with you for a while. Good that we finally got it sorted."

He held out his fist; she bumped it. The gesture brought out a familiar glow of pride, of happiness, within her.

"Mike ..." she ventured.

He turned, halfway through the process of gathering up his lunch items. "Yeah?"

"Do you really … trust … me? As a superhero, that is? To do the right thing?"

His gaze upon her was proud and paternal. "Taylor," he told her firmly, "there is no-one I trust more."

As she entered the front doors of the school once more, Taylor felt that her feet were six inches off the ground.

She had never been prouder to be a superhero.

End of Chapter Twenty-Five