Hope Comes to Brockton Bay

Part 38

"Out of the question!"

Director Piggot's hand slapped down on the desk top with a sound like a pistol shot. Despite herself, Hope flinched. Miss Militia sat unruffled. Weld had started slightly, but not as badly as Hope had.

Piggot glared at Hope. "Do you have any idea how bad your timing is on this? The Slaughterhouse Nine are in town, and we are in a crisis situation at this very moment." She gestured at her computer, and her phone. Even the inbox tray on her desk was overflowing with papers. "I do not have time for this sort of self-serving nonsense. Whatever your problem is, pay, living conditions, whatever, we can sort it out after the crisis is done. But don't come in here wasting my time with empty threats to quit the Wards unless you get your way." She snorted. "I've had that happen too many times before today; I'm not going to stand it from you."

Hope blinked, and looked slightly shocked. "Madam Director, this is not what you think. I'm serious. I want to leave the Wards. I don't believe that my place is with them, not any more."

She indicated the other two in the room. "Miss Militia and Weld agreed to come along, to reassure you that they are aware of my decision."

Director Piggot stared at Miss Militia and Weld. "Is this true? She really just wants to quit?"

Miss Militia nodded, and gestured for Weld to speak.

"Uh, yes, Madam Director," Weld said carefully. "We were talking over certain matters last night, and Hope brought it up. She raised valid points about her current record of failure to follow orders and regulations, and told me that she thought it best if she left the Wards, as there are things she considers more important than following orders."

"More important than following orders?" repeated Piggot blankly. "There's no such thing."

"To me there is, Madam Director," explained Hope patiently. "Helping people. Over the last few days, I've ignored orders because people were hurt or in trouble, or just plain needed my help. And it's turned out okay for me. But it's not always going to be that way. Sometime, my luck is going to fail. I do get that."

She shrugged helplessly. "But helping people is ... the way I am, I guess. And if I'd followed orders, done what I was supposed to, then maybe the Chosen wouldn't have beaten Shatterbird. Maybe Burnscar would have gotten away." She spread her hands. "Maybe, maybe not. We'll never know. But I did what I did, for what seemed like good reasons. And I'd probably do it again, the same way. But ... I don't want someone else getting hurt following my lead, or trying to emulate me. So I think it's best that I leave the Wards before that happens."

Director Piggot looked over to Miss Militia. "Do you endorse this?" she asked.

Miss Militia nodded. "I do," she said. "Weld and Hope brought this matter to me early this morning, and we talked it out. Once I had been made aware of the number of times that Hope has been in violation of orders and regulations, I understood her reasoning, and consider that she is correct in her conclusions."

She tilted her head slightly. "Given that she has only just recently become a Ward, it should not be particularly arduous to grant her a release from her service with us."

"So," said Piggot, her brows lowering dangerously, "you propose to reward her misdeeds by giving her what she wants; a ticket out of the Wards. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to make her serve out a term of discipline first?"

Hope shook her head slightly. "Madam Director," she said pleadingly. Her entire manner was one of entreaty. "Please. I've done the right thing here. I've come in here to tell you I want to leave. Are you going to lock me up? I hope you don't, but if you try, I will resist. I don't want to be in the Wards anymore."

She glanced at Miss Militia. "And I don't think you're allowed to make me if I haven't done anything wrong."

"She's right, you know," put in Miss Militia. "Shadow Stalker was a special case. There is no legal requirement for Hope to be in the Wards."

Director Piggot turned her lowering gaze on Hope. "Do you recall the discussion we had in this very office, the day you agreed to join the Wards?" she prompted Hope. It was the last shot in her locker, and it fell woefully short.

"Yes, I do," replied Hope brightly. "I also recall getting information – from Tattletale, as it happens – about the other options facing a teenage cape in Brockton Bay. I can be a villain. I can be a rogue. I can even join a team that's not affiliated with the Wards. What I don't have to do is be in the Wards, if I don't want to be."

"You got this information from Tattletale?" Piggot's voice was cutting, sarcastic. "A remarkably suspect source, if you ask me."

"You'd think so," Hope answered in the same cheerful tone. "But she also told me that I was under surveillance by your people." Miss Militia's head came up at that.

"That's ridiculous!" snapped the Director.

"You're right, of course," agreed Hope. "Except for the radio tracking bug that she found attached to my pants leg,"

"Really?" asked Miss Militia. "You bugged her?"

"Where is this bug now?" snapped Director Piggot. "Do you have it? Do you have any proof at all of your accusations?"

"No, she doesn't," said Weld. "She told me about it, but she had to leave it behind. However, on the same night that she found it, I personally witnessed PRT personnel searching her locker. In fact, I opened it for them."

Miss Militia was on her feet. "You had one of my Wards under surveillance? You bugged her? You had her locker searched without either her or myself being present, without even getting my permission?" Her eyes blazed. Unbidden, her right hand enfolded around the grip of a multi-barrel rifle that could probably put down a charging elephant. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"We had ... suspicions," Director Piggot began defensively. "She's ... different. The way she acts ... I had no idea if we could even trust her. Her encounters with the Undersiders ... they could have been chance, or they could have been part of a deeper plan. To have her in the Wards, an unknown quantity, it was dangerous. We had to know. So ... we acted. I acted."

Her tone of voice strengthened, became defiant, self-righteous. "And I was right. I know I was. The way she's been colluding with the gangs ... no-one could be so friendly with them without having been part of them."

"You're wrong, Madam Director." Hope's voice was soft, but it held conviction. "They're people. All of them. Many of them have issues, but underneath, they all want the same things you and I do. Respect. Trust. Security. You just have to know how to talk to them." Behind her back, Weld and Miss Militia traded glances, then Miss Militia stepped forward.

"Be that as it may," she snapped, "this was a gross overstepping of your authority. I don't care what deal you may or may not have bulldozed Hope into agreeing to when she first joined the Wards – it's null and void. As far as I'm concerned, she's free to go."

"But you don't understand," protested the Director. "If Hope leaves ... have you seen our approval ratings recently? Since Hope joined, the Protectorate has gone up nearly forty-five percent. And the PRT's thirty percent higher than two weeks ago!"

"So you want to ride her personal charm and kindness to a higher popularity rating," said Miss Militia, her voice as dry as desert sand. "What she does out of the sheer goodness of her heart, you want to milk for profit."

"Not as such, no," Piggot denied, but her heart was no longer in it.

"Which translates as 'yes', I believe," observed Miss Militia. She shook her head, and holstered the Desert Eagle at her right hip. "Come on, Hope. I believe we have finished our business here."

Hope and Weld rose, and were almost at the door when Piggot tried one last time. "You have no residence. Everything you've been issued is Protectorate property. If you leave now, all of that will be confiscated. Where will you go? Where will you live? What will you eat?"

Hope turned and smiled gently at the fuming Director. "Thank you for worrying about me, Madam Director, but I think I'll do fine. I have friends, out there in the city. I'm sure they'll be pleased to see me."

"You mean –" began Director Piggot, then stopped.

"Yes," said Hope. Her laugh was cheerful, carefree. "I'm going to go live with the villains."

Lisa looked up from her phone call. Brooks had pushed in through the curtain separating the cubicle from the rest of the room, and was waiting to get her attention. "What is it?" she asked, covering the mouthpiece.

"You're never gonna believe who's here," he said, and then left again, without explaining further.

Frowning, Lisa got up and walked to the curtain. Pushing it aside, she peered out into the shelter. Almost immediately, she saw the cause of Brooks' interruption. Farther across the interior of the shelter, where the sick and injured were being cared for, was a familiar figure. Surrounded by a halo of silvery-blue light, which her wings broke into thousands of shards of rainbow glory, Hope leaned over a bed, speaking to one of the patients. All around, people were looking toward her, and in some cases, gravitating her way.

"Taylor," she said to the phone, "I'm gonna have to call you back. Hope just dropped in for a visit."

Pocketing the phone, she strolled in that direction.

When she got there, Hope was helping a boy stand up. His broken leg, previously immobilised by an inflatable cast, was now able to hold his weight with ease. She looked around at Lisa and smiled brilliantly. "Hi," she said. "Got a spare bed for an ex-Ward?"

"You're joking," said Taylor.

"Not a word," Lisa assured her.

"She left the Wards?"

"Surely did. I'm getting the impression that the rules and regulations were too confining for her."

There was a pause.

"Did you happen to mention that the Undersiders aren't big on rules and regulations?"

Lisa laughed. "Something like that."

"What did she say?"

"That she wanted to stay a free agent; not just be a part of any one gang. She wanted to be part of all of us, so she could help all the people in Brockton Bay as best she could."

"Could anyone even pull that off?" asked Taylor.

"I doubt if anyone else could," said Lisa, "but I'm not going to bet against Hope."

"Well," said Weld, "that's that. Hope's gone." He shook his head. "I think everyone's going to miss her."

"I know I will," said Miss Militia. "Here, something that may interest you." She turned her computer monitor around.

Weld scanned the text; it appeared to be the current dossier on Hope. It seemed the same as it had been, until he reached something that was unfamiliar. He paused, and read through it more slowly.

"Due to her extremely persuasive nature, subject HOPE qualifies for a rating of MASTER, for her observed ability to bring together quite dissimilar personality types in amicable agreement."

Weld looked at Miss Militia. "That would be the meeting."

Miss Militia nodded. "Yes. Keep reading."

Weld did so. "As this is not linked to any specific power, but born of several inherent qualities, subject HOPE is the first ever observed MASTER 0."

"Certified, E. Piggot, Regional Director, Parahuman Response Teams."

Weld shook his head. "Well, I'll be damned. That was nice of her."

Miss Militia looked thoughtful. "I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?"

"It could also serve as a warning."

"Ah."

To be continued ...