Hope Comes to Brockton Bay

Part 36

[Author's Note: This part will consist of smaller snips from the points of view of different characters, all relating back to Hope, or to events inspired by her presence. Hope herself will not appear, except by inference.]

"Well, that was an interesting experience," Miss Militia sighed as she re-settled the scarf about her face. Her hair was still wet after the shower, but it would dry.

"You're not kidding," replied Triumph, pulling his lions-head helmet off and running his hand through his hair. "Five villain gangs – well, four plus Coil – after they threw the Merchants out. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it. When we first turned up, it was like they were all gearing up for a firefight, with us as the targets of opportunity. And then Hope got out of the boat, and they were like, 'Oh, you brought her. Why didn't you say so?'"

"You're kidding," said Assault.

Battery shook her head. "No, love. It happened just like that." She kissed him on the top of the head. "I'm going to go get a shower and change."

Miss Militia went to the fridge, got a pack of yoghurt, offered one to Triumph and another to Assault.

Triumph shook his head. "Thanks, I'm good." Assault accepted one.

She nodded, peeled back the strip. "And when she asked permission to go and give Faultline's Crew a message from Burnscar? That was weird enough. Except that she then ended up going round the whole circle, spoke to all of them – except the Merchants, for which I am unsurprised – and they were treating her like an old school friend." She snorted. "Hookwolf and the Chosen greeted her like she was one of them."

Assault raised an eyebrow. "Hookwolf did that?"

Triumph nodded. "Sure as hell he did."

Miss Militia took a spoonful and closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the taste. "And even when tempers got short, all she had to do was spread those wings of hers, and ask everyone to calm down – and they did. All of them."

"Even Hookwolf?" Assault sounded disbelieving.

"Even Hookwolf."

"I would not have believed it if I wasn't there," confirmed Triumph. "But that's the way it went down."

"And ... the rest of it?" asked Assault. "The stuff about Manton projecting the Siberian? What Dragon found? That's all legitimate?"

She nodded soberly. "All of it."

Assault shook his head slightly. "This is big. This is really big."

Triumph got up, his helmet under his arm. "The biggest."

A ringtone.

A hand picked up the phone, hit 'answer'.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Coil. It's me."

"Tattletale. I presume you have some tidbit for me?"

"Indeed I do. There's someone we need information out of."

"Who?"

"Before I answer that, I want whatever you get from this."

A sigh. "Very well. Who, and what about?"

"Battery. She was reacting a bit strongly to Hope's little revelation at the meeting tonight."

"Oh? I had figured that for nerves. Or maybe she just doesn't like Hope."

"Think again. She was definitely trying to steer attention away from that topic. What I want to know is, why? Who wants to keep people from finding out things about the Siberian?"

"An extremely cogent question. Give me a moment, and I will ask Dinah."

"Don't take too long. I wouldn't want to get the impression you're trying to make up a story I'll believe."

"You wound me."

"If you try to hang us out to dry again like you did at the meeting, I'll do more than wound you."

"Now, now, that was just business."

The phone went silent for a moment. Then he returned.

"I have your answer. But I am not sure that you will like it."

"Oh?"

"Have you ever heard of an organisation called Cauldron.?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because they not only gave Battery her powers, but they also told her that the Siberian must leave Brockton Bay alive."

"Well, now. That is interesting. Thank you, Coil."

"Tattletale, what are you –"

"'Bye, Coil. Talk to you later."

"Tattletale -!"

click

"It appears that our visit to Brockton Bay has been plagued by misfortune." Jack Slash paced across the motel room, and back again.

Bonesaw lay back on the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. Now and again, she kicked them up, just to see her toes appear. Cherish lounged in an armchair, watching the both of them. "Really?" she asked. "Don't we usually lose one or two people every time we attack somewhere?"

"No." A shake of the head. "Not like this. Not before we've properly got started." Jack Slash spread his hands; a flick of the wrist, and a knife appeared between his fingers. He twirled it, flickering light in the cheap fluorescent lights. "The Chosen shouldn't have been able to take down Shatterbird. Hope wasn't supposed to be on site to take out Burnscar." His lips tightened. "I can't get a read on Hope. Never where she's supposed to be. She turned up at the Anders place, and I had to improvise on the fly. She's a complication, a glitch."

Cherish's expression was amused. "And people really do like her."

Jack Slash rolled his eyes. "She's popular, I'll give her that. And very personable, face to face." He paused, musing. "I managed to get past her, once. But it might be harder, a second time, without innocents to distract her."

"So what's our next move?" asked Cherish. "Are we going to go after this little complication of yours, or something else?"

Jack Slash dismissed the problem with a wave of his hand. "I would have let Shatterbird scream tonight, but we'll have to announce ourselves another way. Tomorrow night." He paused, thinking.

"Did you know," pointed out Cherish, "that the Chosen have Shatterbird's head on a pole in front of their headquarters?"

"Do they?" asked Jack Slash. "Do they really?" He smiled. It was almost cheerful. "Well, then. They think they can disrespect the Nine that blatantly? We'll just have to do something about that."

Bonesaw sat up, looking interested.

Cherish raised one eyebrow. "And Hope?"

"I'll tell Mannequin he's got free rein to go after her."

"Oh, he'll just hate that." Bonesaw's voice was sardonic, and somehow filled with childlike glee.

"Won't he just."

A darkened room, lights turned down. The only real illumination the glow of a laptop screen. Battery sat, typing.

"Coming to bed soon, honey?"

"With you in a moment, sweetie. Just got to get this email sent away."

"Sure thing."

A knock on the door. Battery looked up from the screen. "Ethan, could you get that, please?"

"Okay, honey."

Assault opened the door. Miss Militia tagged him with a tranquilliser dart at a range of three feet; Triumph caught him and eased him to the floor. They slid inside. Triumph closed the door quietly.

"Sweetie? Who's at the door?"

She looked around at the lack of answer, found herself staring into a very wide-barreled weapon, aimed at her by Miss Militia. Triumph stood beside Miss Militia.

"What is this?"

Miss Militia sighed. "Hands away from the laptop please, Battery. I was wondering why you reacted the way to Hope's information at the meeting ... and just now, we got an anonymous message telling us that you're working with an organisation called Cauldron, whom I had previously thought just a rumour, and that you've got orders from them to make sure the Siberian leaves Brockton Bay alive."

"Wait!" protested Battery. "That's not how it is!"

"Battery." Triumph stepped forward, shaking his head. "Don't. Please ... don't." And then he spun toward Miss Militia.

She realised the danger just too late, and tried to leap out of the way. He let out his deafening scream, and the sonic wave blasted her into the wall. She crumpled into a heap, motionless.

Battery stared. "What the hell?"

Triumph stepped forward. "We haven't much time," he said urgently. "Cauldron sent me a message to give you all the assistance you needed. What's going on?"

Battery slowly rose and faced him. "Cauldron contacted me before the meeting. They want the Siberian to get out of the city alive." An edge came into her voice. "But I'm not going to do it. I don't care what Cauldron does, I'm not helping the Nine kill more people, ever."

"Don't you get it?" he snapped. "This is Cauldron! We owe them our powers! Without them, we're nothing!" He glanced toward the laptop. "What are you sending there?"

"Information about the meeting. But I'm leaving out the bit about the Siberian." She bit the words out. "They don't need to know that."

Silence fell for several seconds, and then suddenly he opened his mouth to shout at her. She blazed into blurring speed, dodging sideways, punching him with a fist that nearly broke the speed of sound. He rolled away, letting his armour take the impact. Another scream, and another; Battery whipped aside with more than human speed, pummeling him with hammer-blows. But suddenly her speed faltered, and his next attack caught her squarely, smashing her across the room. She hit the wall and fell to the floor.

"Right," he said grimly, seating himself at the laptop. "Let's just add in that information, shall we?"

In his concentration, he did not notice the weapon shifting in Miss Militia's hand.

And then a hail of beanbag rounds smashed into him, blasting him sideways and off the chair. Miss Militia climbed painfully to her feet, holding her ribs; she was sure a few were broken. "Don't ever turn your back on a fallen enemy," she grated in her own language. Staggering over to where the laptop sat askew on the desk, she took the time to put a dart into each of them, then scanned the text on the screen.

"Well, now," she muttered. "Hasn't been sent. Let's see about telling them what I want them to think."

And after that, she told herself, Master/Stranger protocols for both of these two until I can find out what's happened here.

Tattletale closed her phone, put it away. "That should put the cat among the pigeons," she murmured with satisfaction. She turned to Skitter. "So, what do you think of how the meeting turned out?"

Skitter didn't answer for a moment. "I think ..." she said at last, "... that if Hope hadn't spoken up for us, we would have been gone, not the Merchants."

Tattletale nodded. "Oh, without a doubt. Us and the Travelers both. And then we'd all be on the outs, not knowing what the others were planning to do about the Nine, unable to assist, and possibly in the line of fire."

Skitter shook her head slowly. "I still can't believe how she talked them all down," she murmured. "Especially Hookwolf."

Tattletale smiled her vulpine smile. "I ... kinda figured it would go that way," she admitted.

"No surprise there," muttered Skitter.

"No, really," insisted Tattletale. "When she did her little meet-and-greet around the circle the first time? Didn't you see the respect everyone was giving her?"

"Everyone except the Merchants," Skitter pointed out.

"And what happened to them?" Tattletale prompted her.

"They ... got thrown out," Skitter answered slowly.

"Go to the top of the class," Tattletale told her. "From the moment Hope arrived to the moment she left, she was in control of that meeting ... whether they knew it or not. Whether she knew it or not." She shook her head. "People call me a manipulator. I've got nothing on Hope. And the most bizarre part? She doesn't even know it."

Skitter's face was hidden behind her mask, but Tattletale knew she was staring at her. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Doesn't it?" asked Tattletale. "She's a nice kid. Stunningly beautiful, appealing manner, totally approachable. She drifts along her happy way, unselfishly doing right by others. Heals people without being asked, figures out what people need and takes it to them. Like her little care package to Bitch."

"Yeah, I heard something about that," admitted Skitter.

Tattletale nodded. "Exactly. She does stuff for people. Never asks for anything in return. But she's strong enough that no-one can take advantage of her. I'm willing to bet that patrol she did around town the last few days? I bet that was originally her idea, but that Weld still thinks it's his."

"Doing nice things for people," murmured Skitter. "Wow. And that works?" she added, unconsciously echoing Clockblocker.

"Seems to, for her," pointed out Tattletale. "You see how Hookwolf and Purity reacted to Skidmark?"

Skitter nodded. "They were about ready to feed Skidmark his own feet. And I was thinking about helping them. So was Grue. But you said not to worry about it."

Tattletale grinned wider. "Exactly. We weren't needed. But I bet you didn't see Gregor and Newter. They were about to jump in too, but Faultline held them back, because they weren't needed either. And I saw Trickster telling Sundancer to stand down as well."

"Wow," said Skitter again. "I never realised."

"Most everyone else missed it too," Tattletale noted. "But I think we're going to have to keep an eye on our little Hope. She's just full of surprises."

[Author's note: It appears that Skidmark has entered the narrative once more. You have my apologies in advance. Security has been notified.]

"That turd-gargling, monkey-buggering little glow-stick!" ranted Skidmark. His voice was a little muffled, through the cloth he was holding to his mouth, but the general meaning got through to the rest of his group with remarkable ease. "F**kin' got us thrown out of that goddamn circle-jerk just for sayin' what was in front of everyone's faces!"

"So what are we gonna do about it, honey-bear?" asked Squealer, pulling her too-short skirt down a fraction.

"We're gonna fix those knob-jockeys, that's what we're gonna do," snarled Skidmark vengefully.

"What, we're gonna go tell the Nine about their meeting?" Squealer sounded alarmed.

Skidmark recoiled. "Christ, no! Do I look suicidal? I'm gonna stay as far away from those goddamn maniacs as possible." He shook his head. "And that means not steppin' in or helpin' in any way if they come out in the open. We got chucked out, we don't do jack to help and of those dickbrains. They can all take barbed-wire enemas for all I care. An' if it so happens that the Nine kills every other f**king ruptured hemorrhoid in a cape before leavin' town ... that leaves the whole place open for the f**kin' Merchants to lay claim to the lot of it."

He paused for breath, and for thought. "Hell no, we're gonna do something else. We're not in on their little goddamn truce, are we? We aren't held back from attackin' anyone, are we?"

"No," admitted Squealer, "but ..."

"But," went on Skidmark, "if we attack one of the goddamn gangs that was there, they'll come down on us like pedophiles on Viagra at a kindergarten open day. So, we hit someone else." He turned to Squealer. "Your chopper ready to roll?"

"Needs a bit more work, but should be ready to go by tomorrow afternoon," she told him.

"Tomorrow then," he said. "We hit that weak sister Parian, wipe her off the map like a turd in a wind tunnel." He wiped blood from his mouth again. "God f**king damn that little c**k-sucking glowstick!"

And Squealer knew he didn't mean Parian.

[So I lied about Hope not appearing. Sue me]

"What I don't get about this whole thing was this," said Clockblocker, holding up his coffee cup to the light, as if he could see through it. "How come no-one ever twigged to the resemblance between the Siberian and Manton's daughter before now?"

"Well, think about it," Weld replied from the other chair in his room. "Manton's wife and daughter were killed back in the eighties, right? Siberian appears shortly after. She quickly makes a name for herself, and pretty soon they're trying to find out who she is at home, because everyone figures her for a Brute, not a projector. But the internet hadn't really gotten off the ground back then, and even if someone found a passing resemblance between her and Manton's dead daughter, it obviously wasn't her, because she's dead."

"Okay ..." said Clockblocker slowly. "I can get that."

"Also," Weld went on, warming to his subject, "when you look at it, it's not a perfect match. Siberian is like Manton's daughter, only adult and more ..." He gestured, a vaguely hourglass motion.

"More everything," supplied Clockblocker. "Plus, you know, naked and with tiger stripes."

"Exactly," agreed Weld. "So the resemblance wasn't really obvious until Dragon used her latest facial recognition software."

"Gotcha," said Clockblocker with a nod. "But ... I'm gonna have to say this."

"What?"

"Am I the only one who thinks it's creepy that Manton is presenting himself to the world as his over-sexualised naked daughter, in tiger stripes?"

"No," said Weld firmly. "You are not."

There was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Weld called out.

The door opened, and Hope put her head around it. "Oh!" she said. "I'm sorry, I'll come back later."

"No, no, come in," said Weld.

"I was just going anyway," Clockblocker added. He finished his coffee and put the cup down, rising from his chair. "You did good tonight, Hope. I'm really glad you came along."

Hope grinned in an embarrassed fashion, and ducked her head slightly. "I didn't do all that much," she said.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Clockblocker, "but you being there definitely didn't hurt." He let himself out the door. "See you tomorrow."

Hope and Weld echoed together, "'Night, Clockblocker," and then Weld gestured to the chair. "Sit."

She sat.

Weld eyed her for a long moment, then cleared his throat. "So, what have you done this time?"

She blinked, startled. "What?"

Weld gave her a level stare. "Hope. I've only known you for about ten days, but I've come to learn your tells. You have about as much guile as a week-old puppy. When you think you've done the wrong thing, you look like that very same puppy that knows it's about to get its nose rubbed in something. You've obviously come in here to confess about something. What is it?"

Hope took a deep breath and let it out again. When she spoke, her voice was low, and she wouldn't meet Weld's eyes.

"There's something I didn't raise at the meeting, maybe I should have." Another deep breath. "I ran into Jack Slash two days ago, on patrol."

"What?" Weld was startled out of his complacent attitude. "When? Where? What happened? Why didn't you tell me?"

Hope shrank into herself. Her voice dropped to near-inaudibility. "Kid Win and I were visiting Purity. I went inside with her, he waited on the roof. Jack Slash was inside. He'd wounded her baby and her stepson badly. As she walked in the door, he cut her throat."

She related the incident in a monotone. "I didn't want to call in Kid Win, because his armour wasn't closed all the way around. Jack Slash has taken down armoured heroes before, and I didn't want to take the chance."

She paused. "Also, my kiss of life always takes something out of people, and I didn't want to have to explain that at the meeting; Purity does not need anyone thinking she's weaker, right now."

Weld struggled for control. "So, you brought Purity back to life, and the children ... they're okay?"

She nodded, mustering a faint smile. "She told me so, at the meeting."

"Good god, no wonder she stepped up to your defense," muttered Weld. "She must think you walk on water." He caught himself, and glared at her again. "This does not explain why you did not tell me about this. Or Kid Win, after the fact. Both of us, even. Someone!"

She shook her head slowly, hopelessly. "I couldn't. Once I started to keep it back, it got harder and harder to figure out a way to tell you that wouldn't get me in trouble and make you keep me from going on patrols and helping people."

Weld leaned back, lips compressed. "You're damned right I would have taken you off patrol schedule. For a stunt like that? Hell yes. In fact, you're off patrol schedule until farther notice. I don't know what disciplinary action I'm going to take, but –"

"Uh, that's the other thing," Hope interrupted him, looking even more unhappy than before. "I like you. I like all of you here at the Wards. Miss Militia's nice, too. But ... I don't fit in here. I want to follow your orders, but ... when it comes down to a choice between helping people and following orders ... helping people wins out, every time." She shook her head. "You can't trust me to follow orders if I think I need to help people, instead."

Weld stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that it's best for everyone if I leave the Wards."

To be continued ...