Why the hell would anyone think I was Armsmaster's daughter? That didn't make any sense.
I mean, sure, every girl dreams about her father being a superhero, but that's with the knowledge that it's not actually true.
In other words, there was no way my father could be Armsmaster, so this guy had the wrong teenage girl.
Except… unlikely as it may be, people still won the lottery. After all, someone had to win it. Same thing here. Given the fact that there had to be an actual daughter of Armsmaster around, could that be me? I'd never seen my dad and Armsmaster in the same room, but then again, I'd never seen my dad and Eidolon in the same room either. That didn't mean my dad was Eidolon.
But, he did live in Brockton Bay. He also worked late quite often. But that was just because he had a desk job at the PRT… a desk job where he'd gotten very ripped. But, if my dad was Armsmaster, Emma would've told me. Also, the guy that rescued me back in Westlake just so happened to be my dad?
Wait… that last one actually made more sense if my dad actually was Armsmaster.
"I see you're bleeding," the man in the mask stated, having decided to stop waiting for me to answer his last question. "You dry Tinkers really don't know how to handle that kind of stuff do you?"
He came closer, grabbing some tools out of his pocket, they looked like needles, some sort of thread, and a small syringe.
"You think you can at least say hello?" he asked.
"Hi…" I answered.
He looked at the table Rose's body was lying on, and then at the puddle on the ground. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about fasting before an operation. Is this everything?" he asked, pointing at the stab wound.
"Took a kick in the ribs… who are you?"
He pulled up my shirt in a quick, methodical manner. Not the kind of way I expected guys to do that. Then again, this guy was more than twice my age, so it was probably better this way.
He went to town with the needle and thread, after applying what seemed to be a localized anaesthetic. In the meantime, he kept chatting. The strange Kangaroo creature was collecting things from around the lab, mostly paperwork and notes that had been left behind, probably nothing too important.
"I'm Blasto, that's Greek for the budding of cells and stuff like that, so no, I don't do explosions. I used to have a… working relation with your father and a couple of his friends, back in his college days."
"Wait… I don't understand…" I replied.
"It's usually like that just after a battle. Now, stand up, and try to remember what's happened so you can reflect upon it later." He said, holding out a hand.
I wasn't sure what to make of the entire situation, and was way too tired to stand up, so I ignored it
"What do you mean working relation?" I asked. My dad was Armsmaster? He was friends with a villain?
Blasto walked towards Rose's corpse, inspecting the tubes and stuff attached to her, and looked through the laboratory, glancing at a few of the documents his assistant had gathered while speaking.
"The PRT likes to pretend the world is neatly divided into heroes and villains. That you're either good, or bad. They pretend that heroes are entirely good, and villains are entirely evil.
"Which is, as you can see, entirely ridiculous. There's a very big difference between a guy like Accord, who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals, whatever they may be, and someone turning to a life of crime to fund their tinkering. I'm thinking the latter category applies to both of us."
Well, that last part I could agree with. There was absolutely no good way to get uranium on the cheap.
"The thing is, my specialty makes for good PR. Not for me, mind you. No, it provides that to the PRT. One of their heroes beating an expendable creation makes for a good headline with a full-colour picture, in a way that gang violence just doesn't."
"You mean, like, zombies in a video-game? Or Nazis?"
"Yeah, pretty much. People don't have to feel bad for someone the way they do when they see third-degree burns on some kid with a knife.
"So, anyway, back when your dad was hanging out with Myrddin, Chevalier and Mouse Protector, I was just getting myself set up. They kept coming out to stop me, we exchanged some witty banter, and things were about as cordial as they got between hero and villain. It was a good example of the unwritten rules working out for once.
"Eventually, I wanted to test one of my hypothesis against an Endbringer, and I ended up chatting with your father afterwards, exchanging notes on tinkering, pros and cons of joining up with the protectorate, that kind of thing. One thing led to another, we got drunk on the flight back, he beat me in poker somehow, and I had to make a giant cat attack Mouse Protector on her birthday."
"I'm still not entirely sure about this whole Armsmaster being my dad thing." I replied. The anecdotes were interesting, but…
"Because of course he didn't tell you. Because he's an idiot." Blasto replied.
"Hey, that's my dad you're talking about. I think."
"Well, anyway, I had this kind of sort of long distance thing with another Tinker called String Theory. Your dad send me a message about her, warning me not to get involved. I decided to trust him, and two months later the girl had gotten herself an S-class rating and been locked up in the birdcage. I told him I owed him one, and about half an hour ago, he called me to call in the favour. Told me to help out his daughter, a short teenager with long-ish blonde hair with strips of blue, red, purple and black in it, possibly wearing a completely reflective glass helmet."
"That… okay so yeah…" I said. He was still looking through some of the paperwork, figuring out what they'd done.
"So, anyway, I'm pretty sure Dragon is upstairs, and from what I've been reading here, she'll be very interested in what's happening here. Long story short, even if you're a wet Tinker, don't work on people. That kind of stuff gets a lot of people really suspicious, and for good reason."
"Is that what they were doing?" I asked him. "They were talking about some sort of drug, the same thing that got loose in my hometown. Something about generations and dimensional bleed-off."
He looked at me, thinking about the new information. "So they were working on someone elses work, which meant that, because Accord was in charge, its something replicable. That would most certainly explain where he got the funding. The CIA is very interested in getting its own powered operatives.
"Anyway, as I was saying, don't Tinker with people unless you've got someone watching your every move. On the other hand, you should make sure they know you're capable of shit like that if you are, but not actually willing to do it."
"Why? Won't that make people way too scared of you?" I asked him.
"Yes and no. The thing is, I could easily make stuff like diseases, and the PRT knows it. Thing is, they know I know what they'll do if I actually create a disease, and I know that they know that I know how to create a counter if someone else decides to release a tinkertech plague."
"So, if Bonesaw were to do something…" I started to figure out what he was talking about.
"Then the Protectorate knows who to call. In the meantime, they know not to go looking for my lab."
"As long as you're not going too far," I completed for him.
"Exactly," he replied enthusiastically. "You think you ready to stand up?"
I checked my legs, finding them a bit more stable now, after talking with Blasto for a while. He held out his hand again, and I grabbed onto it, letting him pull me to my feet.
"So… why are you telling me this?" I asked him.
"Lots of reasons. First of all, you were tired and I needed to take your mind off of things for a bit. Second, this type of stuff is something that every cape needs to know, on both sides of the fence. Third, I kinda like your style, and my sister moved to England last year, meaning my niece can't drop by anymore."
"So…"
"So we never spoke about any of this, and we're walking to the roof where Dragon can pick you up."
I looked at Rose again. Blasto had removed the tubes from her body expertly, and it looked like she was just sleeping, although a tad pale, and also naked.
I walked up to her, grabbing her hand. Whatever had happened, it had been partially my fault. She'd trusted me, and I'd repaid her by getting her killed.
I felt Blasto's hand on my shoulder, nice and warm in comparison to Rose's.
"The PRT will come and pick up her body. Accord's not the type to self-destruct his base, too messy. They'll clean her up, try and figure out if she has any living family, and hold a burial. They'll make sure she's all cleaned up and everything. That's the image you want in your memory. Not, well, this." He said.
"Okay…" I sniffled.
"She's been in the game for a few years now. She knew the risks, knew what it meant to deal with people like Accord. Sure, this sucks, but it's not like it came out of nowhere.
"Try to learn from what happened today, but don't let it pull you down. Doing that won't help anyone."
"Fine..."
Gently, he pushed on my back, leading me out of the lab. The hallway was largely as I'd left it, although I spotted a rather difficult to describe thing just around the corner.
"Love the invisible foam by the way, haven't seen that one before," Blasto said. "Gave mister Mustard a good surprise… Although, I should probably figure out what his actual name was."
"Was?"
"Dude played around with lethal gasses, not the type of opponent you go easy on," he replied tersely. "Proportional response is a thing. In this case, it was largely justified. It'd be a different thing if he'd actually tried to figure out a way to fight nonlethally."
"oh…" I replied.
Blasto led us to a different door than the one I'd seen from the fire escape. The door itself was completely destroyed, and it looked like it had been hidden before that.
"Private entrance for Accord. It's how I found this place." Blasto clarified. Behind the door was a set of stairs, with some of the fancy wall coverings scuffed by Blasto's creations.
"I found some paperwork…" I said.
"Give it to Dragon, if its anything to do with that lab downstairs, she'll probably send it to me under the moniker of anonymous consultant," he replied.
The rest of the journey was… relatively silent. The entire building had been evacuated, leaving an eerie situation behind, and both Blasto and I were out of things to say.
Armsmaster my dad… It would've been too much of a coincidence if he wasn't, given how Blasto said he had described me. Still though, why hadn't Emma told me?
Then again, Emma apparently hadn't told him about me either, at least until today. Or had dad known all along? No, that didn't make any sense.
Just before reaching the roof, Blasto asked me if I had any way to hide my face. I materialized my helmet, placing it on my head while he looked at me in surprise.
"That's a pretty neat trick girl. Some sort of teleporter inside it?" he asked.
"Not telling," I replied.
When we reached the roof, he stood behind, keeping to the shadows, and pushed me forwards.
Two news helicopters were circling the roof at a distance, but they were nothing compared to the mechanical marvel before me.
Dragon, in all her glory.
I'd thought Leet's drone had been cool, but this? This was amazing.
"Hello Sely," a semi-synthesized voice spoke form a speaker. It reminded me of a voice that I'd heard before, one that my father had been in love with.
"You knew…" I replied.
"Your father and I disagreed, but it was his decision to make, and he thought it was in your best interest not to know," she replied.
"Did he ask you out yet?" I asked the mechanical lady.
"As a matter of fact, yes he did! He even got me flowers," she replied happily.
Well, at least that problem was dealt with.
I looked behind me, and saw that Blasto had suddenly disappeared.
"Where'd Blasto go?" I asked.
"Who? I have absolutely no idea who you're talking about, I came here on my own." Dragon replied. "Anyway, your dad will be here in about half an hour, so you should probably get dressed before that happens."
I looked down at my clothes, cold in the open air above Boston. Accord's people had stripped me almost bare, and my shirt was still covered in blood where Blasto hadn't cut it away to get access to the wound.
"Yeah… probably a good idea."
