Because of the War
Chapter Eleven
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The hospital had paradoxically always been one of his most and least favorite places to be, as strange as it might sound. In some ways, the efficiency of a well-trained and well-polished hospital staff was satisfying and inspiring to see, but on the other it was a place of suffering born from the inefficiencies of the human body and the limited technology the world possessed. It was also, all to often, a place he had found himself meeting confused and terrified young parahumans who had just experienced a horror that would be with them for the rest of their days…or a place in which he had to identify what was left of a friend or a comrade. His list of deceased contacts was painfully long, now, with very few dying any sort of death that could be called pleasant.
"Hana will be fine, Colin. She got banged around a little, a concussion and some bruised ribs when she hit the ground. She has survived far worse fights than a spat between the Empire and the ABB." Dragon's voice was soothing in his earpiece, which thanks to his specialty was small enough to be unnoticeable unless someone was looking for it with free access to his ear canal. Dragon-no, Theresa-had always been able to tell what he was thinking and feeling, from the moment they had first fought together. It was one reason that distant Tinker was so valued a friend to him, because how could he not value someone who understood him on so fundamental a level? It was hardly a surprise that she had been able to discern her concern for one of his closest and oldest friends, and one of only two surviving members of the original Wards team. There had been twelve of them, once, but now only the two of them and Mouse Protector (Miria Wilberforce, he reminded himself, one shouldn't use codenames for friends in privacy) remained. The rest had all been killed in combat, most hunted down by the Slaughterhouse Nine, who had decided that doing so would be an appropriately 'record-setting' thing to do.
He looked forward to someday extracting a price in blood from them in return. Vengeance alone was inefficient, but vengeance and justice together was a combination of beauty.
"You are of course correct, but in those worse fights she was able to defend herself. Today, she was helpless and vulnerable, unable to do anything without revealing herself." He responded sub-vocally, mouth and throat barely moving. A skill he had practiced extensively for just this sort of situation. "Not to mention the fact that my new Ward would have died if not for Miss Hebert's intervention, one she made at great risk to herself."
"Yes, Taylor does seem to have a penchant for finding herself in highly dangerous situations, I must admit. It would be worrisome if she didn't seem to have a guardian angel or three looking out for her. And young Paige seems to be taking no small inspiration from her, given the excellent flying tackle she used to get Hana into cover while Taylor headed for Lily." Theresa mused thoughtfully, doubtlessly reviewing the relevant footage and reports once again. "That girl used to be so passionate about how she would never fight for anything, that all she wanted to do was sing, but a few weeks with the Hebert family and she is running into gunfights to help people."
"There are…concerns about their closeness and the more…abrasive attitude of the Hebert's and the DWA towards the PRT and Protectorate." He responded lightly, carefully, but Dragon dismissed his superior's concerns with a snort of laughter. He frowned, intent on questioning her, when she spoke again.
"Colin, just because Taylor's family and the DWA don't like the PRT and Protectorate for policy reasons doesn't mean that they're going to abuse Paige's power to try and take over the city. Haven't they all said repeatedly that they hate the gangs and support law enforcement, even support the local parahuman branches, they're just disgusted with the inaction of the organizations on the national level?" she pointed out, sounding a little exasperated, and he nodded because nothing she had said was inaccurate. That did not, however, make the situation any less volatile, and he said as much he arrived on Hana and Lily's floor. "I agree, it doesn't, but I think the only way you'll ever find yourselves on opposite sides with those girls and their friends is if you do something very, very stupid. They won't be your enemies unless you make them your enemies through your own actions."
He didn't respond, not only because he wasn't sure what to say, but because he was coming to stop just outside the hospital room that his two fellow heroes were staying in. Carefully watched over by several disguised guards, of course, embedded in the hospital staff for just such an occasion. Even if Hana and Lily weren't critically injured, they were still vulnerable so long as they were here and not combat-ready. Knocking to announce himself, he opened the door and slipped inside, closing it with a muted click as the two ladies looked over towards him.
"Colin, they didn't need to drag you down here for something like this!" Hana protested almost immediately, shifting to sit up before grimacing and cradling her chest and slumping back down. Moving with deliberate, efficient haste, her once-and-future teammates hastened to her side and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Stay still, Hana. Your injuries are not insignificant, especially given that you were not properly equipped at the time." He cautioned her, letting some of the worry he felt bleed through his control as he looked her over carefully. She frowned unhappily, looking down at her hands, and he wondered what he had said. A murmured handful of words from Dragon clued him in, and he continued quickly. "Its not your fault, please don't think I'm blaming you. I am referring only to the fact that you had no protection, not implying that you were derelict in your duty."
"I need to adjust my cover, Colin. If I'd had the ability to pretend I was a concealed carry holder, I would have been able to do something. I wouldn't have been able to prevent the accident, but I could have done something besides hide behind the wreck until help arrived!" she responded darkly, hands flexing slightly, the form of her power flickering between shapes on her bedside table as she looked over at Lily.
"…I understand that she still hasn't woken up." He said softly, following his friend's gaze, and she nodded tightly with worried eyes. "The doctor's do say that her prospects are good, don't they?"
"Yes, she should be fine. Smoke inhalation is serious, but she didn't have long-term or excessively toxic exposure. It was only a few minutes, so she should be alright in a couple of days, but I still worry." She answers, nodding again with a fleeting smile. "If it wasn't for Taylor and Paige, though…"
He squeezed her shoulder gently, mindful of her injuries, in comfort. He was well aware of how bad long-term smoke inhalation, especially smoke inhalation from a burning car engine compartment, could affect someone. Especially someone as young as Lily was. However, if the hospital staff had had any doubt of her ability to recover, they would have called in Panacea directly rather than placing Lily on her 'waitlist' as camouflage. After all, evacuating the two of them to the Rig for healing immediately would have been impossible, drawing too much attention. After all, people might ask questions about what made these to particular, apparently random, citizens important enough for Panacea's immediate intervention. Then, when a new Ward showed up of the same sex and race as one of those two random citizens, and the older woman matched the nationality of the famous Miss Militia…well, it would be hard to leap to the wrong conclusion there.
"What happened, Hana? I've read the AAR reports and witness statements, but the cameras in the area were destroyed by the fighting so I couldn't see it for myself." He asked after watching his new Ward for another long moment, and she blinked before her expression firmed up, the haunting vulnerability banished by the focus of duty.
"Everything was fine, I picked her up as a RideOn driver, just like we planned, and we were chatting about her teammates and the city when the car went flying. I have no idea what hit us. Shockwave, another car, a Brute…I never saw it coming, neither did she." Hana told him, eyes a little distant as she no-doubt recalled the incident with her flawless memory. "Car landed on the roof, but we were okay besides some bruises. Then the engine went up, fire and smoke were filling the compartment. I punched my belt release and got clear, but Lily's jammed. I was trying to get back to her, I was going to cut her free, but Paige tackled me away from an explosion. RPG, I think. By the time I was back on my feet, Taylor had already pulled Lily from the car and into cover. I don't know how she got the belt off though…"
"What was left of the car indicated that it was cut by something extremely sharp, but everything was so badly burnt we couldn't discern anything further than that. From what reports indicate, the ABB and E88 were engaged in another conflict over territory, thanks to the collapse of the Merchants. Your car was struck by another vehicle that was itself sent airborne by Lung as he engaged a group of Empire capes." Colin filled in, tactfully keeping silent about the fact that both hero and Ward would have most likely died if not for the reinforced, armored crash frame of Hana's 'civilian' car.
His lessons with Dragon must have been paying off.
A knock on the door drew their attention, and a heartbeat later one of the hospital security staff that was 'in the know' stuck his head in the door. Voice low, he informed them that Taylor Hebert and Paige McAbee had just arrived to check on the two heroes, and asked if they should be turned away with excuses.
"No, let them come up. I want to thank them properly for what they did, and I'd like you to actually meet them, Colin. I think you'll like them." Hana spoke quickly, not giving him the chance to protest, and the guard withdrew with a nod of acknowledgement. Colin resisted the urge to frown at her for making such a hasty, and potentially dangerous, decision. Hana had always been more…emotional than he, just as Miria had always been better with the crowds. Its why they had been such a good team, all those years ago, in addition to the way their skills and powers complimented one another. Team Triple Threat, that had been their nickname. Long-, mid-, and short-range combat techniques, and if someone was busy trying to fight a rapidly teleporting Miria, they could hardly simultaneously avoid his halberd or Hana's gunfire.
It took a few minutes for the two teens to actually arrive, riding the elevator and signing in for the floor taking the majority of that time, and when the soft knock heralding their arrival finally resounded Colin opened the door himself. They filed in, voicing a pair of soft expressions of thanks in his direction, before heading for Hana, though he noticed that Ms. Hebert's eyes were focused on Lily until she actually arrived at Hana's bedside. Unsurprising, as it had been an unconscious Lily that Hebert had had to pull from the car during a firefight.
"Oh, thank you!" Hana cried out, sounding genuinely appreciative as the girls offered chocolates and flowers alongside their words of relief at her well-being. Words that were equally genuine, as far as Colin could tell. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, Hana was quite popular and the girls were obviously not ambivalent to her welfare, but were in fact invested on some level. Which, he imagined, was exactly what Hana had wanted him to see. "Oh, girls, this is Colin. He's one of my oldest friends and an excellent coworker. Colin, this is Taylor and Paige, the two young ladies that saved Lily and I."
"You both have my deepest gratitude. Hana is very dear to me. Losing her would have been…hard, not to mention her young passenger." Colin added solemnly as the two girls looked over at him, giving them a slight bow and a small but genuine smile, and both smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "Can I ask how you happened to be in the area? Most people would see what was building and run the other way."
"Paige and I aren't most people. Going where angels fear tread and all that. Besides, the gang bangers were more interested in tearing each-other apart to notice a couple of innocent things like us, never mind try and stop us from rescuing random bystanders." Hebert responded with a slight shrug, clearly not to worried about the risks that the two of them had taken. The girl had plenty of course, that much was obvious. A pity she wasn't a parahuman he could recruit into his Wards.
Taylor's eyes alighted on Lily once more, and she hesitated for a moment before walking across the room and putting some more gifts down on the other teen's bedside table. Colin's dominant hand twitched slightly as Taylor leaned over the sleeping Ward, gently brushing her hair back and scrutinizing her features.
"Why hasn't she woken up yet? I thought you guys were doing okay?" the Dockmaster's Daughter asked softly, sounding distinctly worried, before he could come up with a reason to separate them. That was reassuring, as he had been concerned about his two coworker's identities remaining a secret, even if it was unlikely at best that Taylor would recognize Hana as Miss Militia.
"She inhaled a lot of smoke before you got to her. She'll be fine, her body is just forcing her to rest so that it can heal faster. It shouldn't be long before she's awake, and then after another day or two from that and she'll be up and about." Hana hastened to reassure her, despite not being quite so confident about Lily's chances not minutes before. Taylor nodded silently in understanding, looking only slightly reassured by that, and gently squeezed Lily's hand before stepping back.
"We'll come back and visit soon. For now, I think it would be best if we left you to rest. Have a good day, Miss Hana, Mister Colin." She said quietly, visibly troubled, before leaving with an anxious looking Canary in tow.
"…Interesting." Colin hummed thoughtfully after the door shut behind them.
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Eugene Baker was not, by any stretch of the means, a good person. Maybe he had been, at one point, during his innocent childhood of yesteryear, but the young male of today was a greedy, entitled, vindictive piece of trash. He had long been able to (mostly) disguise that fact by being very good at verbal and emotional manipulation, as well as ingratiating himself with people far, far better than himself in wealth and talent. And, for that matter, the dregs of society, such as the gang members he had been arrested with.
Most people with this combination of traits would have quickly found themselves dead in an alleyway after trying to dip his fingers into one too many pies, but Eugene possessed a strangely effective degree of animal cunning that allowed him to tread the fine lines required to keep his blood and his brains where they belonged rather than decorating a wall. Having his true self displayed at trial, even if a fairly quiet one, had been an unpleasant experience for him, at least until Tagg had intervened. The old bastard hated Masters, especially ones that looked even vaguely like the Simurgh, and had proposed a plan for both of them to get what they wanted: Paige humiliated and suffering.
Quite frankly, the paranoid Director had grated on Eugene's nerves every time they spoke to one another, but he was willing to play along with the man long enough to get his revenge. Then, he would disappear into the underworld with which he was so familiar before Tagg could tie up loose ends by coming after him. In his arrogance, it didn't occur to him that a Director of an entire branch of a federal organization would have people in place to deal with him ahead of time, or that an organization that specialized in finding people would be able to track him down, but one way or another that wouldn't ever actually be a problem for him.
Though he might end up wishing that it had.
Welcome to South Beloit, the sign he had just passed declared, and he groaned in mingled irritation and relief. On the one hand, he was still nearly 1,100 miles from Brockton Bay and his revenge. On the other, he was finally getting off of this particular bus and was a hell of a lot closer than he had been a week ago, starting out in California. Just one more week, and it would all have been worth it. Ah, he dreamed of seeing that bitch get dragged off to the Birdcage. Maybe he would offer to drop the charges if she would let him fuck her, get off and give her a bit of false hope to salt the wound.
The bus came to a halt, air hissing and frame creaking over the chatter of his fellow passengers as they started getting to their feet and stretching. They were a motely assortment, none of any particular note nor worth spending any time with, though he hoped to find some tail in this city. He hadn't had much luck during his trip so far, and he was kind of backed up. Back home in the Bay, getting some had never been particularly difficult, and he had quickly found that having to actually work for it wasn't to his taste.
He stepped out into the sun and, after a few minutes of impatient waiting, reclaimed his bags from the storage compartments. Intent on getting a good motel room before his fellow riders had the chance to get there first, he briskly jogged towards the nicest-looking place in view, bumping several people (both locals and tourists) with his bags on the way with nary a word of apology. One of them, a Middle-Eastern woman slumming it with a kid, a goth bitch, and a middle-aged loser, squawked in protest.
"Pound sand, bitch!" he grunted, resisting the urge to use more colorful language. Getting arrested for a hate crime wouldn't do his plans any good, even if the bitch would deserve it for getting in the way. Back home, she wouldn't have been able to say shit, or his Empire buddies would have dealt with her real quick.
"Jack…!" she heard the woman complain behind him, no doubt being restrained from trying to do something stupid like giving chase, and he smirked in satisfaction as he rounded the corner. Fully convinced that he had 'won' a conflict that existed only in his own mind, he completely missed the cruel smiles the group sported after a few murmured words from the 'middle-aged loser'. Instead, he continued on, blissfully unaware of the colossal fuck-up he had just made, and (after complaining for a bit about the prices) rented the best room the motel had. It's not like he was really paying for it anyway, so what did he care? If Tagg was going to be footing the bill, then it was going to be one hell of a bill!
Dismissing the idea of unpacking, as he only intended to stay for a few days before catching the next long-distance bus east, he left the motel and headed for the nearest bar. He was going to get drunk, flirt with some stupid small-city bitch, get laid, and do it all again tomorrow. Walking through the doors of '5BAR', he sat down right at the counter and flagged down the rather attractive bartender.
"What'll it be for you?" she asked with a smile and a nod in greeting, brushing a stray strand of hair behind on ear, and he eyed her cleavage as he considered how to answer. After a moment, he requested a Sazerac, his go-to drink for impressing those around him. It had never failed to net him a date or two when he ordered it.
Regrettably for his ego and his sex-drive, the majority of the bar's inhabitants seemed far more interested in talking about the drifters from some city that had been attacked a few weeks ago. He didn't pay enough attention to catch any of the details, but apparently the group was heading the same place he was in the hopes that Panacea would heal their crippled friend. Well, whatever, good luck to them and the Red Sox, he didn't give a shit, unless one of them was hot. Plenty of time between here and The Bay to seduce her if she was. Finishing his drink, he ordered another in the hopes that a display of drinking prowess would lead to the opportunity to display prowess of another sort.
Several hours later, a terribly drunk, unhappy, thoroughly alone and unsatisfied Eugene stumbled out of the bar and down the street in the vague direction of his motel, a string of muttered curses and complaints about the supposed unfairness of the world and worthlessness of this city and its women trailing behind him. He was confident nothing would happen, not in a small, villain-less city like this, and spared nary a thought for his safety in regards to criminals or drivers. Had it been so much as a week earlier, he probably would have been right.
However, if there is one thing that is universally true about life, it is that it is predictably unpredictable. Random acts of bad luck and inexplicable banality can lay low anyone, regardless of how great or small they are. In this particular instance, he had the misfortune of crossing the street towards his motel just as an utterly nondescript white van came around a blind corner and plowed into him. It was, perhaps, to his benefit that he lost consciousness almost immediately from the shock of the impact, as he made no small mess when he hit the ground a handful of yards away. There was a moment of almost shocked silence, despite their being no public observers, before several of the van's doors opened and closed in rapid succession.
"Well, I wanted to fuck him up, but this isn't quite what I had in mind. Good job, Willy-boy, you managed pancake the asshole without even trying." The same Middle Eastern woman Eugene had so rudely bumped into earlier grumbled, looking down at the young man lying on the street in a rapidly spreading pool of his own blood. The man she was addressing, who would have done well as the defining image of 'egghead' in any visual dictionary, merely flipped her off in response.
"Now William, is that any way to treat a friend?" the 'middle-aged loser' chastised jovially, shaking a finger at the other man before looking at the elementary school girl that was now crouched beside the probably-dead man and poking at him. "Anything interesting, poppet?"
"Not really, just another drunk college guy, and they're not much fun at all. I guess I could use him to start the fun in a couple of days or something, if you really wanted, Mister Jack." She responded with a shrug, still poking Eugene's body almost apathetically, and Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, we don't want to leave him here like this. Would be terribly rude of us, and not terribly ethical as well! Would be bad business to just leave a man to die on the side of the road from a hit-and-run of all things, not to mention the fact that the locals might start asking questions and get suspicious before we start the fun and games." He mused aloud, before snapping his fingers decisively. "Alright, I've decided! We'll take him with, clean him up, and make him a part of the festivities. Poppet, make sure to clean up any evidence on the road, okay?"
"Okay, Mister Jack!" the girl chirped, scampering back to the van and grabbing a small satchel, even as the silent machine man that had been watching the entire time picked up the body and carried it towards the rear doors.
Yes, by his terrible decisions and poor demeanor, Eugene had found himself in the hands of the Slaughterhouse Nine. A fate that no one, even his most ardent detractors, would have wished on him. But his death and nightmarish suffering (not necessarily in that order) would serve a greater purpose.
Far above them, a small four-rotor drone watched events unfold, relaying the images back to its controller aboard the Avenger, as it had ever since a Skyranger had deployed it to track Eugene as he made his way back towards Brockton Bay. In the command center, the two young women assigned to it exchanged glances.
"Start running facial recognition on those people. They just ran him over and don't seem to give a damn, and I'm getting a vibe that tells me its for a different reason than most hit-and-runs. I'll get Central on the radio." The one of the left told her companion, who nodded and started typing, while the speaker raised a hand to her ear and keyed her microphone. "Central, this is Safeguard Watch. We have a situation here, sir, and it could be a doozy."
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Trying to get back in the saddle, as it were. As always, please point anything out that needs to be fixed!