Even More Intense in Person

As embarrassing as it was, I screamed.

Not only that, I tipped off the couch and aimed a kick directly at the masked person's head, forgetting momentarily that I'd just installed the cybernetics. Lucky for them, I missed—but my heel slammed into the back of the couch with a loud crack and I was dumped unceremoniously to the floor.

"Imp!" Tattletale snapped, sounding more irritated than surprised. "I told you to stop doing that."

"But it was so perfect!" the other cape protested, leaning on the back of the couch with both elbows. It creaked warningly, apparently not quite recovered from my kick.

"What?" I groaned, levering myself up onto my elbows. Tattletale's reaction calmed me down a little, but I was still ready to leap to my feet and attack the stranger.

Tattletale flopped down on the couch, holding her head in both hands. "Cobalt, meet my new teammate, Imp. Or... not?" I shook my head, and she broke into a grin. "New name, got it. Aurora, really? You and Grue are nerds of a feather. Imp, Aurora. Aurora, Imp."

They—she, I realized, as she stepped forward and revealed more of her figure—cackled. An honest-to-god, ready to put babies in a cauldron cackle.

"Your... what? Why didn't you tell me there was someone else here?!"

"I forgot," Tattletale grumbled. The look on my face must have been worth a thousand words—most of them four letters long—because she chose to elaborate. "It's her power. Everyone forgets about her."

"Seriously?" I hissed, whirling to look at—Tattletale's couch. When had the back started listing like that?

I turned back to Tattletale. "So, you think you can get your teammate to—"

"Believe me now?" whispered a voice, right by my ear. I yelped again, jamming an elbow into Imp's stomach. She lurched forward with a wheeze, though this time at least I'd remembered to tamp down on the force. Might have been messy, otherwise.

"Fuck, ow!" Imp whined, collapsing onto her side on the floor with a thump.

"Be careful," Tattletale scolded her. "She's a brute, you're lucky she didn't hurt you."

"I feel pretty hurt," her teammate protested.

"It was your own fault." Imp stuck out her tongue and laughed again. This time she was a bit quieter about it, probably because I'd hit her diaphragm.

"I'm not in costume," I moaned. "This is not okay, Tattletale!"

"I'm sorry!" Both her hands came up in a placating gesture that I did not appreciate. I glared at her, eyes narrowed. "I didn't know. Usually I can tell she's around, but I used my power a lot yesterday." A look of indescribable weariness passed across her face. "Which means, I always have to deal with her popping out of nowhere when I have migraines."

"Not at your house, though," Imp replied cheerfully. "Until just now, I guess. And I know where it is as of about a week ago, so..."

"So I have to move."

"That's going a little far..."

"What were you doing here, anyway?" Tattletale asked, giving her a suspicious once-over. "I don't need my power to know that's a bit stalker-ish, even for you."

Imp shrugged. "I found some Merchants on our turf. They're running for the hills, but I wanted to talk to you about it in case it wasn't just an isolated bunch of idiots."

"And you didn't wait at the base like we agreed because...?"

"I got bored." Tattletale slumped backwards on the sofa, putting an arm over her eyes and heaving an exaggerated sigh.

"Hey!" I called out, clapping my hands to get their attention. "What you said before, about wanting the money—does that mean you're in?"

Imp looked a bit like a cat when she grinned. "Hell yeah!" she replied. "And I'm pretty sure Regent will be easy to bribe, too."

"Wait!" Tattletale snapped, then sighed when Imp and I both turned to stare at her. She muffled a groan into her hand. "Look, I am more than aware how weird it is for me to be the responsible one, but Grue's not here and it's dangerous."

"You're going," Imp pointed out.

"I am not going to be anywhere near the fight itself," Tattletale insisted. "And you have no protection whatsoever. If the Butcher sees you, you will die. Period."

"So? She won't even know I'm there."

"You can't just assume that!" Tattletale half-rose from her chair, then sat down with a groan and put a hand to her head again. "What if her danger sense interacts with your power the same way I do? What will you do then?"

"I won't go near her, then!" Imp pleaded. "You're letting Regent go!"

"He's an adult," Tattletale replied. "He's allowed to go on suicide missions if he wants."

"That's so stupid!"

"Besides," she gritted out, "He'll be far away from the fight, okay?" Imp paused, then nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, fine—but I'd still be safer than Miss Militia! I could go in and find Panacea, then get out and tell you where she is. Or just grab her while you all distract the Butcher."

Tattletale opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. "That... is way too good of a point." She sighed. "Fine. But don't you dare kill the Butcher. Don't even think about it. Don't even think about poking her, got it? I don't know how her danger sense works, and a psychotic murderer with your powerset is a real-life slasher movie waiting to happen."

Imp snapped to attention and saluted. I began to wonder how old she was, underneath her mask—my guess started at around eighteen and had been plummeting ever since she'd opened her mouth.

"Grue won't want anything to do with this," Tattletale decided, "and he'd probably pop a vein if he heard about Imp going along with it. Bitch... maybe she'll want the money, but I really doubt she'll be willing to work with heroes. That leaves us and Regent."

"I'll call the PRT," I added. "And they can contact New Wave."

"I can get Regent on board," Imp suggested. "Won't be that hard if you're offering fifteen thousand."

"And I'll start figuring out where the Teeth went," Tattletale said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "I don't suppose you have one of those painkillers on you now?" I shook my head.

"Right. Imp!" She snapped her fingers imperiously. "Advil. You probably looked in my medicine cabinet already." Imp winked, and vanished into another room.

"How long will it take to find them?" I asked anxiously. Tattletale held up her hands in the universal gesture for 'fucked if I know.'

"Depends on how well they hid," she replied. "I have a few contacts who may be able to get me a list of good spots, so that could be a decent start. You might want to hold off on calling the Wards for an hour or two, because this mission starts as soon as Glory Girl hears the news, whether we like it or not."

"Hours?" I repeated, shoulders slumping. "Do we have hours?"

"Doesn't really matter. I'm not running at full capacity here, and even if I was, I can't just pull information out of thin air. My power lets me skip a lot of the legwork, but I need something to start with."

I grimaced. Tattletale seemed to read my expression, because her voice shifted to something a bit softer. "But... yeah, we have time. The Butcher probably won't want to jump right back into combat, not after what Miss Militia did to her. And Panacea is no use to her dead. She'll be fine for as long as the Teeth can contain her."

"And how long is that?" I asked, somewhat bitterly.

"Well, if she keeps her cool... indefinitely. If not... the world might be fucked again."

I looked up and narrowed my eyes. "That seems to happen to you a lot, doesn't it?"

"I'd argue it's happening to her, but that's just semantics." Tattletale managed her old grin, then sat up. "Right! Time to put my nose to the grindstone."

"What should I do?" I stood up from the couch, noticing rather suddenly that I was taller than Tattletale. She gave me a once-over, then raised an eyebrow. I looked down, confused. "What?"

"You need some clean clothes," she commented dryly, pointing at the bloodstained bandage around my leg and, of course, the ratty shorts that really didn't cover much. "I think I have some that'll fit, just give me a sec."

Something about the way she said it struck me as a bit ominous, but I nodded agreement. That, it turned out, was a mistake. Tattletale did not own large, concealing sweatshirts or baggy jeans. I squirmed uncomfortably as she poked around in her closet a moment, before she cast a calculating glance over her shoulder and sighed.

"Here." Then she tossed a pair of yoga pants and a fairly normal-looking blouse at my head. I cast a suspicious look at them, as though they might suddenly grow teeth. Or, more accurately, shrink. Tattletale rolled her eyes at me, then walked out of the room.

I pulled them on as quickly as I could, wincing as the pants dragged over the bandage on my leg. Well, bandages—most of the others were smaller and the cuts they covered were hardly bleeding at all, but they were still sticky and having them yanked on hurt.

When I was finally dressed—though it probably hadn't taken more than a minute or two—I left the room and, with barely a twinge of regret, tossed the rest of my clothes in the trash. Just as I was about to exit through the same window I'd entered, Tattletale reached out and grabbed my arm. "Wait." Confused, I looked back at her and noticed that she was glaring at me.

"What?"

"You're not going to be on the front lines for this one," she said firmly.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Think, Aurora!" she hissed. "You don't have armor. The first thing that'll happen if you show up to this fight is that you get nailed through the throat with an arrow!"

I scowled, ready to protest—then stopped. "You're right," I decided. Tattletale actually rocked back on her heels, her mouth gaping open for a moment. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What's the catch?"

"My armor got busted," I explained, "But with the cybernetics, I think I could lift it. I just need to strip out all the nonessentials, and I'd be protected again."

"You'd need to go to the Wards for that," she pointed out.

"I would. Is that okay?"

She waved her hand, nodding. "Yeah, go ahead. Tell them... as much as you want, I guess, about the situation—not this address, obviously, or Imp and Regent until we know he's on board. And make sure they don't call Glory Girl until we know where they are, I don't want her getting it into her head to go out looking on her own and draw attention to herself. Oh, and see if you can get them to send me some intelligence about the Teeth. That's probably going to be a no, but you never know."

I paused a moment to absorb all this, then nodded. "Got it."

"Right. Take a granola bar or something with you." I snorted.

"What are you, my dad?"

"Eat something, or you'll faint in the middle of the fight." Rolling my eyes, I strode into her kitchen and made a show of biting into a banana she'd had on her counter.

The way back to the Wards was fairly simple—I ran. The whole trek was a only a few blocks, and with my augmented legs it took far less time than the first trip. Granted, I couldn't run as fast as I was capable of, not without outing myself to whoever I passed by, but I could move at top speed for a normal person just about indefinitely.

I had, unfortunately, forgotten my sneakers in the park where I'd installed the cybernetics. After briefly considering running back to the PRT anyway, I remembered that I had something important coming up and probably didn't want to scratch up my feet. So, after a quick detour to grab my shoes and stuff the bloody machinery and sweatshirt somewhere slightly more well-hidden, I took off.

Shoes pounding evenly against the concrete, I pumped my arms and flew across the pavement. Technically, I could have run this fast before—but the way it was so effortless, the way my breathing stayed steady even as I pelted across sidewalks and leapt over small heaps or rubble... it was wonderful This, this was why I loved my power.

All too soon, I skidded to a stop in front of the PRT building. It was, like it had been since our fight with the Butcher, absolutely swarming with officers. Some were entering, but more were leaving, piling into vans and disappearing into the city proper. That was probably a good thing—it meant they had stopped worrying that Miss Militia was going to become the next Butcher.

Ducking inside, I breezed past the secretary—being a Ward was handy like that—and headed upstairs. Halfway there, I nearly bumped into Chris. He took a step back and stared at me, wide-eyed.

"Where have you been?" he hissed.

Shit, I thought. "I went for a walk," I said aloud. It was an incredibly lame excuse, and both of us knew it. But, instead of narrowing his eyes, Chris shifted around awkwardly.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk, I guess," he mumbled. "Sorry."

I blinked. "No, that's fine. I... uh..." Telling Tattletale I'd come clean to the Wards was a lot easier then actually doing it. "I need to talk to the Director. I'll see you later?"

Chris frowned. "She's probably busy. Maybe Renick—"

"It's... kind of urgent."

"Right. Um, okay." He walked past me down the stairs, turning at the last second to call, "Good luck!" over his shoulder.

I couldn't help but smile. That was, until I realized that I was about to have a meeting with Director Piggot. My heart sank—I'd had barely any interaction with the woman since I'd joined the Wards, but Clockblocker had apparently been calling her 'Piggy' behind her back since his first day on the team, and as far as I knew she was the only person in the PRT who scared him enough to get him to do his paperwork on time.

Then again, I could find Weld first and drag him along as backup. That thought seemed much more appealing, and before long I was knocking on his door. I had to wait a while. When he finally opened it, he looked hastily dressed and had a pair of headphones around his neck. I managed a smile, then quailed in the face of his glare.

"We've been trying to contact you," he said flatly.

"I left my phone," I admitted.

He heaved a sigh. "Where were you? Why didn't you tell us you were leaving?"

"That's... kind of a long story." I rubbed nervously at the back of my neck. "I need to talk to the Director."

Judging from Weld's expression, that was not the kind of thing that was reassuring to hear. "Can you tell me why?" he asked.

"I was... installing some of my tech." My left hand clenched in to a fist—there it was, out in the open. Part of me—dare I say all of me—wanted to recall it, find a better way to phrase it, wait until I was absolutely sure I wanted to do this... but I'd made up my mind.

I liked the Wards, more than I'd honestly thought I would when I first got my powers. I didn't want to leave the team, but if they kicked me out for what I was doing... I could live with that. I wouldn't be able to live with being another useless hero, wandering cluelessly around the city while Panacea was trapped by the Teeth.

Weld, who hadn't seemed to understand, was giving me a quizzical look. "Installed... what, exactly?" Slowly, haltingly, I rolled up my sleeve.

"Cybernetics."

He stared at me a moment, expressionless. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, as his eyes traced the scars across my arm.

"You... did that." I nodded, flexing my fingers.

"It's stronger, now," I explained. "My legs, too. I can fun faster and longer, jump higher, it feels amazing—"

Weld raised a hand, cutting me off. "When? How? Taylor, I know you didn't get clearance for this, because Chris told me. Did you just ignore them when they told you no?"

I looked away, and that seemed to be all the confirmation he needed. His breath hissed out from between his teeth.

"Am I going to stick to you?"

"What?" That had been the last thing I'd expected him to say. "No, it's all under my skin. Why—"

He grabbed my arm, and pushed it toward me. Startled, I tried to shove him away—and he nearly overbalanced as I twisted his arm over his shoulder. When he was satisfied, he dropped my wrist.

"It's stronger than the armor," he said, eying my bicep—still thin and weedy-looking.

"Not really. It's the same amount of muscle, but it doesn't have to carry around all the extra weight."

Weld swallowed. "Why do you need the Director? Why are you telling me any of this? Did something go wrong?"

I winced. "Well... yeah. It's a long story. Can I go talk to her?"

"I'll come with you." He stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest. He probably meant it as a protective gesture, and it was why I'd talked to him in the first place, but all I could think of was the fact that there would now be two people hearing about my clandestine meeting with a villainous thinker. The Director was intimidating enough, but Weld could actually fight me if he wanted to.

"Sure," I said aloud, forcing down the queasy feeling in my gut. Whether that was anxiety or leftover symptoms of the blood loss, I had no idea.

I tried very hard to ignore my first impression of the walk to Director Piggot's office, because it felt very much like I was a prisoner being escorted to my cell. Or a gallows—it all depended on how badly the meeting went.

The Teeth are more important, I told myself. If all this went wrong, they still couldn't arrest me. At least, I didn't think so. The uncertainty was difficult to dismiss.

It certainly didn't help that I'd never met the Director before. The second Weld knocked on the door to her office, I could hear a muffled, "Come in," from the other side. Her voice was sharp, very no-nonsense. And here I was, to talk about all the nonsense I'd pulled against a direct order from the PRT. Joy.

Weld opened the door without further prompting, then let me go in ahead of him. All I could think was that I was hemmed in on two sides. I could outrun him, though—he didn't get tired, at least not as quickly as a baseline human might, but neither did I anymore.

The woman behind the desk was someone I did recognize. I'd only ever seen her on the news, usually delivering some speech about a particular fight between the Protectorate and some villain group. Her dark eyes were even more intense in person, seemingly staring right through my skin and into the squishy guts—and the nuts and bolts. She sat straight, despite the medical machinery I could see running tubes down under her desk. Very militaristic, not approachable in the slightest. I took a deep breath.

"Hello Director," I said. Her eyes narrowed.

"Do not waste my time," she snapped. "Either schedule a meeting through the proper channels, or get to the point."

"The Teeth have Panacea," I blurted, wishing very suddenly that my dad was here. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to do anything, but it would have been nice to have her gaze spread evenly between two people.

The Director leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk and staring at me. "You have my attention. How do you know this?"

I swallowed. I should have listened to Tattletale, I thought, but it was too late now. "I, um... I met with Tattletale. She put it together." Behind me, I saw Weld stiffen where he stood, his back going rigid. He stared at me, incredulous.

I scrambled to explain. "It wasn't anything criminal, I just... well... she said she owed me, for getting rid of Coil." Getting rid of Coil sounded a lot better than murdering her boss, I supposed. My stomach clenched, but I kept talking. "She gave me her address, for, um, using my tech."

Piggot's eyes, which had been narrowing steadily as long as I'd been speaking, twitched. "I would guess," she said, with deliberate slowness, "that this is in relation to a fascinating report I received from Dr. Drummond the other day. You installed untested technology, without our permission." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

With a long-suffering sigh that I was fairly sure had a lot to do with Armsmaster and Kid Win, Director Piggot folded her hands and laid them on her desk. "That does not explain how you know Amy Dallon has been captured by the Teeth. Forgive me for being reluctant to take Tattletale's word on this." The sarcasm startled me a bit, but Weld shot me a sympathetic look that helped calm me down.

"When Miss Militia shot the Butcher, I was there. It didn't—It didn't look right. She was hit right in the chest, not something she should've been able to recover from."

"Our working theory at the moment is that one of her subordinates killed her, in order to keep her powers in the family, so to speak." Piggot's expression grew calculating. "Why do you find Tattletale's claim more convincing?"

"She didn't have to take that bullet," I explained. "I mean, before. Miss Militia shot her in the arm, she saw that it was coming and she didn't teleport. Glory Girl and I were right there, and she'd been hit by Animos so she didn't have her shield. The Butcher could have hit us both with her fire—but she didn't. It didn't make sense to me, but... Tattletale thinks she didn't want to hurt Glory Girl, because then she'd lose leverage over Panacea."

"Why would she need leverage?" Piggot was frowning, but not in disbelief—more like a judge, carefully weighing my every word.

I broke eye contact, dropping my head to stare at the floor. "When I was underground... I would have tried to leave a lot sooner if Coil hadn't threatened my father."

My words hung in the air a moment, before Director Piggot leaned back in her chair. "It's certainly possible." Her tone was unmoved. "That only leaves proof. Do you have proof, Miss Hebert?"

I bit my lip. "No," I managed. "It's just... it's the only thing that fits."

"I am sure you believe what you've told me." Piggot regarded me, scowling. "Otherwise, I highly doubt you would have come forward with a story so full of incriminating details."

"Madame Director—" Weld interjected, but stilled when she held up a hand.

"I will be looking into it," she said. "The mere possibility is too much of a risk to ignore. But you yourself have just admitted to flaunting the Wards' tinkertech approval process, meeting with a known villain, and sharing details of a fight that is still confidential with said villain—a thinker, at that."

I forced myself to meet her eyes. "I don't care what you do about that." My tone stayed firm, but even—a small miracle that I appreciated. "You need to know... Tattletale agreed to help us find the Teeth, and one, maybe two of her teammates might be willing to help."

"And why would they do that?" Piggot snapped. "What did you agree to do, exactly?"

"I told Tattletale I'd build her a painkiller," I admitted. "Then she'd pay her teammates to help."

"Are you somehow unaware of the fact that the only limit on many thinker abilities are their migraines?" The Director sneered at me. "Or was this intentional?"

"I'm not a trump!" I shouted, composure forgotten. "Why does everyone think I am? I can't do that, I couldn't do it for Dinah and I definitely won't do it for Tattletale. It'd just fancy aspirin, their powers will still stop working anyway!"

Piggot let out a breath, grimacing. "That's not insignificant," she argued, though this time in a much milder tone. "It will likely allow her to push herself farther than she would have been able to, previously." I gritted my teeth, but didn't reply. The whole conversation was spinning out of control—I hadn't had time to plan it out at all, but this was far off the rails of even my most basic ideas. I'd been planning on asking about not telling Glory Girl until we'd found the Teeth, or sending information to Tattletale, but now I was on the defensive. It seemed extremely unwise to start making demands.

After a moment, Piggot settled back and leveled another glare in my direction. "We will be speaking on this further," she promised. "And you will be disciplined. Considering Tattletale's abilities, Master/Stranger protocols may be warranted. I have half a mind to throw you in a cell right now."

I clenched a fist, eyes flicking to the window as I considered whether or not I'd survive a last-ditch leap to the ground. But the Director wasn't finished.

"That can wait," she decided. "For now, this is a threat we cannot afford to ignore. I will be in touch with New Wave. You will remain here. Without your armor, you would be far more of a hindrance than a help."

"Wait!" I yelped. Cleared my throat. "I mean, I can be back at almost the same strength and durability in a few hours."

Piggot stared at me in obvious disbelief. "How do you plan to do that, exactly?"

"I already have cybernetics in my legs and left arm," I told her, wincing as her jaw clenched. "I can strip down my power armor, and just leave the metal plating. My right arm will be useless, but I'll be able to walk."

"Will you?" Piggot raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I would assume you'd need more than your legs to stay upright."

"Well, yeah. I won't be that fast, but... it won't take long, and then I can test it."

She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly through her nose. "Tinkers," she said, "are going to drive me to an early retirement. Go."

Hardly believing my luck, I thanked her and scampered out of the room with my tail between my legs. Weld followed, walking slowly with a hand to his head.

"You met Tattletale," he stated, when we were alone. I shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "The first time... I wanted to install the cybernetics in my left arm, and I was frustrated, and she offered to talk to me. I guess I was just curious."

"Curious. God, Taylor, do you even know how dangerous that was?"

"I knew she wasn't going to hurt me."

"How? How could you possibly know that?"

"She offered to help me," I snapped. "Before... before I escaped. When we were fighting the ABB, Sentry and I went out and she talked to me."

"That's just the kind of thing she'd do, to get on your good side," Weld explained patiently. "It's an easy way of—"

"I don't care!" I yelled, shoving him with both hands. He stumbled, mouth gaping open in shock. "I don't care, at least she did something! The Wards just tossed me around, Glory Girl was ready to kill me, and she offered to help! So yes, I trusted her not to ask me to meet her and then kill me for no reason."

Weld recoiled as if struck. "Taylor," he said softly. "They didn't know."

"And Tattletale did." I looked away, probing the inside of my cheek with my tongue. I'd bitten it, at some point, and I could taste blood.

"That's not fair," Weld murmured.

"I know." I sighed, collapsing against the wall with a hand on my forehead. "I know. It's stupid and it doesn't make any sense."

There was a long pause, until Weld slumped next to me. "What do you need, to fix up your armor?" he asked.

"A few hours, maybe," I mused. "Not sure. Either way, it'll probably take Tattletale a while to find the Teeth."

Weld nodded. "Okay. Let's go, then."

I mustered a grateful smile, then followed him absent-mindedly to Armsmaster's old lab. The room was familiar, comforting. I turned to where I'd left my suit of power armor, feeling a twinge of sentimentality as I took in the buffs and scratches that mapped out the most hellish month of my life, and all the weeks since. Then, I started ripping it apart.

The beautiful blue muscles were the first to go, falling away as I scattered them across the table. They were all soldered to a lightweight aluminum skeleton, and I'd need that to be able to hold on the armor. Unless...

I rummaged around in a few boxes, looking for a mesh similar to the one spread across my stomach. Weld shifted uneasily where he stood, probably uncomfortable around all that metal. I mostly ignored him, figuring he'd leave if he really didn't want to be in here.

While I worked, the hours blended together as they always did. I managed to stitch together an incredibly ugly but ultimately functional bodysuit from the mesh, then strip off the armor plating from the exoskeleton and attach it to my new costume.

My goal wasn't anything as sophisticated as power armor, not anymore. I wanted armor—real, honest-to-god, medieval-style steel plate. Except, obviously, made from the same material as the synthetic bones my power could produce. I didn't actually have any of those in my body, yet—that was the kind of thing I definitely wanted to be unconscious for, and I hadn't had the means for that. But they were incredibly sturdy, and soon I had a full-body suit covered in them. It was lighter than I'd anticipated, when I lifted it with my unenhanced arm.

"This should work," I decided, slipping it on over Tattletale's clothes.

Not even a minute later, my phone rang. I picked it up, frowning at the unfamiliar number, and answered.

"I found them," Tattletale said, from the other end of the line. I caught Weld's eye and nodded.

Here's hoping this thing works.