Chapter 8
As I stood on the roof of the prisoner transport in the blowing snowstorm, Hightower was feeding me views from several different perspectives from three drones and multiple cameras on the two PRT vehicles. The Thinker combined them into a comprehensive view of the battle space. And the view was not promising.
There were at least twenty armed gang members and three capes approaching in four groups. The first was a group of six led by a fire-wielding Victor that was closing on the front of the MRAP. He was wearing heavy tactical armor similar to the PRT agents and carrying a military rifle of some sort and a battle ax across his back. Another group of eight Empire goons carrying pistols, shotguns, and various bags of gear were heading towards the rear door where they could get to the prisoners. Rune and Othala were hovering in front and above the transport a dozen yards outside of my range. The pair was surrounded by a constellation of floating metal discs the size of dinner plates. Finally, six gangsters were moving towards the disabled truck that held the rest of my team. Several were carrying gas cans, the thought of what they could do with those filled me with dread.
"Hollis, you've got incoming," I almost yelled into the radio.
"Telemetry says Hollis and Beck are out of it," Hightower reported, his voice quicker and more breathless than normal. "Not unconscious. Probably stunned from the impact and the airbags deploying."
"Link us to HQ," I barked. "Report the ambush and call for backup."
"On it," Hightower replied, his voice calming.
"Jones here. Novak and I are fine," came the voice of the transport commander. "Smart move filling the back with foam. The prisoners are secure, and Collins is protected. I'm activating the active defenses." There was a mechanical whirring and a foam cannon lifted out of the roof. I had to step aside as it began to swing towards the front of the vehicle. I briefly wondered at what temperature liquid containment foam froze.
Victor was yelling something to his gang. They opened fire, mostly targeting me.
"Shit," I yelled, instinctively throwing my arms up to protect my face. As the bullets and buckshot rattled against my armored costume, I remembered I was bulletproof. The cannon started spraying, releasing a steady stream that arced over the front of the MRAP and splashed the frozen street in front of the enemy. Jones, or whoever was guiding it, started moving the stream towards the attackers.
A louder shot sounded and one of the hoses feeding the cannon exploded, sending some of the precursor chemicals spraying over the roof. "Yes!" I heard over my earpiece. I didn't recognize the voice.
I pressed a control on my gauntlet and held my hands together, fingers slightly spread. This triggered a fan of orange-tinted kinetic energy that smashed into the group in front. Victor dodged out of the way, but three of his minions were sent sliding back on the frozen pavement.
"I've hacked their comms," Hightower interjected. "We can hear them but they can't hear us."
"We ain't doing shit to her," yelled a panicked voice. A shotgun wielding man in the front group who had avoided the blast lit up on my HUD.
"Stay calm." Victor lit up. "Concentrate fire on the transport's external weapons. Watch out for her beams and leave her to us."
He turned towards me, dropped his tethered rifle, and released a deluge of flames that leapt across the distance at me. I dodged upwards, springing over the stream.
"Come on, baby. Burn!" The goons at the team truck, noticeably more roughly dressed and equipped than the others, were splashing gasoline over the trapped vehicle. The bobtail tractor was still pinning it to the concrete column supporting the overpass. I could see the tractor driver cheering them on.
"Hollis, you've got to get out of there." I yelled.
"They're still not responding," Hightower cried.
"Stand back," Victor ordered and sent a gout of flame towards the trapped truck. The flame faltered halfway there. "Scheiße! Babe, I need a recharge!"
"Incoming!" Rune said, making a pulling motion towards Victor. He flew off the ground, stopping just before Othala.
I tried shooting him out of the air, but Rune maneuvered several discs to block my pulses. The Empire Trump reached out to recharge her husband. In my earpiece I could hear Hightower trying to get a response from Hollis and Beck. Their pained moans let me know they were alive at least, but not ready to save themselves. I really didn't want to move away from the prisoners. As long as I was on the MRAP the Empire capes could not attack directly. Moving to the truck would put the transport out of my range.
Rune dropped Victor halfway between the transport and the team truck. He started spraying fire at Hollis and Beck, though he was still too far to light the gas. Slowly he moved closer.
"I have to," I said and leapt. I landed next to the truck. Victor was now in my range and his fire vanished. He quickly scrambled back, his feet slipping some on the icy street. I rushed to the Mack truck. The driver was shooting at me from the window. I grabbed the hub of the front wheel with both hands, bending to put my shoulder to the wheel well, and heaved. The tractor flipped onto its side, unpinning my team's vehicle.
Ignoring the chatter from the Empire comms, I ran to the PRT truck and started rolling it towards the MRAP.
"Stop her!" Victor yelled. Rune sent a wave of three discs at me. As soon as the flying metal entered my nullification field, her control was removed. The discs still hit me. It hurt, but I kept moving until the truck was snug next to the prisoner transport. This put them both within my field.
At the back of the transport the eight gangsters were trying to open the prisoner compartment.
"That's C4," Hightower said, highlighting the strip of explosives one man was about to attach to the door.
"On it," I replied.
Keying my loudspeaker, I yelled, "This is the PRT! Drop your weapons and get down on your knees!" I had to give them the opportunity to surrender. It was in the book.
Unsurprisingly, they did not take it. Instead, four of the eight opened fire at point blank range while the other four tried to get the explosive charge attached to the door. I keyed my gauntlets to absorb most of the impact from my blows and started swatting them away from the vehicle. It was only a matter of seconds to clear the area and then I was back on top of the MRAP.
"Rune, drop the pickup on her," Victor ordered. I saw the pickup that had been dumped in front of the transport was no longer on the ground. It was coming towards me from directly overhead. Unkeying my gauntlets, I punched the underside as it was about to crash into me, slamming it to the side.
At the same instant a burst of flame washed over me from behind, setting the pickup on fire. I could feel the heat but wasn't burnt by it. Kicking the blazing wreckage away from the convoy I was protecting, I started shooting kinetic pulses at Victor, only for him to dodge them with incredible agility.
"I have to get better at this," I muttered as I fired and missed. "Also, I need some sort of net or lasso to pull these guys to me. Make a note for Kid Win."
"Noted," Hightower said.
"Victor!" Othala called out.
"I'm fine. She can't hit me. I just have to stay out of her range."
"Can't you drain her skills?" Rune asked.
"She's wearing reflective lenses and I can't touch her," He replied heatedly. "Can't you do something. Team one and two, hit the transport at the same time. Front and back. She can only stop one group. Get hostages if you can't get the twins."
"Jones," I started.
"I heard them," the transport commander said. "We've got the front. You take the back."
The two PRT agents fired out of concealed ports, breaking the charge of the group in front. I waited just out of sight while the group in back closed on the door. As soon as several were touching the metal, I dropped foam grenades which detonated, sticking them to the door and forming a living barrier from their comrade's attacks.
Hightower had been harassing Rune and Othala with two of his drones, slowly driving the floating capes towards me. As soon as Run entered my field her platform dropped from the sky, crashing her and Othala into a snowbank.
"No!" Victor called, then started shooting grenades at Hollis' truck.
I moved to intercept, slapping one away only to have the second explode in my face. Ouch. I was stunned momentarily while he pulled his teammates out of my sphere and dropped smoke grenades to cover their flying retreat.
"Fall back and exfiltrate," he ordered. The Empire minions, after several seconds of fire on me and the two trucks, did just that.
"Who should I follow?" Hightower asked. "Rune took out two of my platforms. I only have one left."
"Keep on station," Hollis answered. "We need your eyes here."
"Agreed," Jones added.
"You're ok?" I asked. "What about Beck?"
"We're shaken, but not damaged too bad," my handler replied. "Just stick with the prisoners. They're your priority."
"Protectorate back-up incoming," Hightower interrupted.
He showed traffic camera images of Armsmaster and Triumph on the Armscycle. There were also two PRT tactical vehicles, an ambulance, and a tow truck following behind them.
By the time the heroes had arrived Hollis and Beck were out of the damaged truck and standing guard around the MRAP. I could see both were bruised and shaken, but they showed no obvious wounds.
Armsmaster stopped about thirty yards from the transport. Triumph jumped off the heavily customized motorcycle and started circling the area. Armsmaster approached on foot.
"Report," he ordered Hollis, telling me where Jones stood relative to my team lead in the PRT hierarchy.
"Assuming you have reviewed Hightower's feed," she started. The Tinker gave a miniscule nod. "Several E88 and Herren Clan members, led by Victor, Rune, and Othala attempted to free the prisoners, Freyr and Freyja. They were unsuccessful."
"Has the prisoner status been checked?" the armored man asked. "Visual confirmation?" he clarified. "It may be possible to spoof the sensors within the containment pod."
He moved to open the back door. I had an awful vision of opening it to find it empty. That the nazis had somehow spirited the twins out of the box under my nose. Then I pictured them waiting for us to open the door so they could attack.
"Perhaps it would be better to wait until we get to HQ to check," I moved to block the hero. "Opening the door here only gives them the opportunity to get out if they are still in there."
The screen on the back door showed them still shackled, though they were free of the containment foam I had released in the compartment. At some point they must have been out of my range and used their powers to manipulate the foam and get it off them.
"I think not," Armsmaster said and stepped forward. I backed off. It was his decision. I didn't go far, wanting to keep the prisoners in range.
When the doors opened, the scene inside matched the monitors. The twins were restrained. Doc Collins was still trapped in the foam near the back of the compartment. Armsmaster examined the cell then motioned to me. "If you would return to your place, Nemesis, we can continue to the holding facility."
I nodded and climbed in. The rest of the ride was uneventful, except for some chatter from the nazi twins.
"You're just lucky Hookwolf wasn't there," the brother said, sneering at me like he wasn't the one in chains.
"Or Kaiser, or any of the real heroes," Freyja added. She sounded offended. "I mean all they sent was Rune, who's just a kid, and Victor and Othala. They barely have powers at all."
"It's almost like they didn't really want to break you out," I replied. "Maybe that was just a token effort to appease your clan leaders?"
"It doesn't matter," Freyr boasted. "Many true believers are suffering unfair incarceration at the hands of the impure. We will not be alone, and it will only make us stronger!"
I considered that for a minute. The prisons were full of white supremacists and neo-nazis. I wasn't sure about the juvenile detention centers but would not be surprised – not in this part of New England. Still, it was better than leaving them free to cause more trouble, and they hadn't done anything to deserve the Birdcage.
"Keep it quiet back there," said Jones over the speaker. "Don't let them draw you into conversation."
Once we got to PRT HQ a dozen agents came out to unload the prisoners and take them into the cells. I stayed with them until they were fully secured. As it was obvious from the transport that containment foam alone was insufficient to guarantee their security, they were fitted with special shackles and some sort of knockout gas system.
"They want to debrief us, upstairs," Hollis said when I exited the containment facility. I followed her into the elevator. "You've not really done a debrief like this before. Don't be nervous. Armsmaster is likely to be there, and Calvert, on VTC. Halbeard is a stickler and a bit of a jerk, but he's not too bad. Calvert is new to me too. Let me do most of the talking. When they ask you about the Empire attack just give them the basics. Report your actions only. If they want thoughts, intentions, opinions, etc. they'll ask for them. Got it?"
"I think so," I hadn't been nervous until she told me not to be.
Hollis and Beck gave most of the report, with Hightower's recordings and Collin's occasional observations. They started with the Gray Boy bubble, then moved on to the fight at the plant, then the ambush. Agent Jones gave most of the report on the ambush. Both Armsmaster and Calvert were quiet for the summary. I was asked to narrate my actions as they appeared on the screens, but as basically the intern, I was not expected to have justifiable reasons for my actions. Calvert pressed me some, But I think he was just trying to get a better understanding of my decision-making process.
"You were not very effective against Victor," Armsmaster commented while my series of missed shots was playing on screen. "We may have to rethink your armament load."
"It would be great if I had a lasso or net to pull people into my range," I suggested.
"Hmm…" he grunted uncommunicatively.
After over an hour we finally came to the end.
"So, what is next?' I asked. "Are we going after the Empire?"
"No," Armsmaster snapped.
"But they broke the law, attacked PRT agents to free our prisoners," I protested.
"And they failed," he ground out. "Then got away."
"Don't we know where they are? Victor, Othala, and Rune, I mean," I asked, trying to figure out his refusal. "And can't we use facial recognition or something to identify the gang members? They might be able to tell us if we brought them in and offered them a deal or something." I had watched a lot of cop shows over the years. Some nights they were the only thing on TV.
"That would be against the unwritten rules, not taking the normal gang members but going after the villains in their homes," Calvert supplied. "Besides, Brockton Bay is in a very delicate position. The Protectorate and PRT are badly outnumbered and outpowered." I saw Armsmaster's bearded jaw clench. "We have to act, or more importantly not act, very carefully or risk the fragile status quo. Things could get a lot worse." Calvert shook his head like he was sad to be telling me this, but there was something about his tone that made me wonder.
"And in the meanwhile, people are getting robbed, raped, and killed while we do…," I stopped when Armsmaster surged upright, his chair sliding back to hit the wall of the narrow conference room. He said nothing as he marched through the door.
"I guess we're done," Calvert said calmly. "Hollis and Jones, I'd like your reports tomorrow by COB."
As my team left the room, I followed Hollis. "What was that? Why are we letting them get away with this?"
"We're not doing shit," snarled Beck. "The fucking capes are. That's why I want back on my old team. When we took down a perp, he went to jail. But the Protectorate and the villains mostly play fucking pattycake. The villains almost never end up in jail, even if they get captured. And the heroes never take the initiative." She brushed by me, getting bounced in the process, which only increased her anger.
I looked at Hollis. She shrugged. "She's not wrong. But that's just the way it is. Especially here in Brockton Bay. You did good Taylor. You took down the villains and got the prisoners to lockup. You saved Beck and me. You did your mission, and everyone gets to go home. So… go home."
Wednesday afternoon, on February 23rd, an alarm sounded throughout the PRT HQ. I froze. It was an Endbringer alarm. Not the blaring horns that would have sounded throughout the city if it was a local attack, but the warbling signal was still the harbinger of an event so terrible it might consume a city. I looked to the nearest info screen.
The Simurgh was attacking Canberra, Australia.
I rushed to the lobby. That was the designated meeting point for all Brockton Bay capes in the event of an Endbringer attack in another city. Being part of such a battle was one of the defining acts of a cape in this world. Heroes and villains alike would gather to drive off the monsters and save as many lives as possible, even at the cost of their own. I was terrified, yet excited at the same time. Would they put me on the front lines, hoping my field might negate her awful power? I made sure I had my wings with me, and spare power cells. Or would I be used for my strength in search and rescue. I could move rubble and debris, digging out injured. However it was, I wanted to help.
As I entered the lobby, Armsmaster rushed over. "Nemesis, you can't be here. You need to leave. Go home."
"But the attack?" I asked, confused. "How will I get to Canberra?"
"You have to be kidding," he almost laughed. "You can't come."
"What do you mean I can't come. I'm here. I'm ready." I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. He couldn't be doing this, I thought desperately, ignoring the traitorous feeling of relief that was blossoming.
"First, how would you get there? Strider can't carry you, nor any other mover, and you can't get there on your own." His voice was cold. His tone clipped. He was just doing the necessary job of delivering bad news. "You need to understand, you will never be allowed in an Endbringer battle. Your mere presence could cost dozens of lives as you depower anyone that accidentally enters your field at a critical moment. If there is ever an attack on Brockton Bay, your first duty will be to get as far out of town as you can as soon as the alarm sounds. Now go home. You're interfering with the gathering."
I rushed out of the entrance, knocking Manpower and Shielder aside, and started running. I was devastated at the snub at the same time feeling like I had been reprieved from a possible death sentence. That cause even more shame to grow, disgust with my own cowardice vying with the humiliation at the rejection.
I was crying in my bed when Dad got home. "What's wrong, little owl?" he asked standing at my door.
"They wouldn't let me go," I wailed. "They don't want me!"
"What do you mean? Who doesn't want you?"
"The heroes. Armsmaster wouldn't let me go to fight the Simurgh."
"Thank god!" Dad said with relief. "They couldn't let you go. I refused permission for you to fight Endbringers."
"But Dad," I looked at him, hurt he was part of the betrayal.
He came in and took my hand. "You're tough enough to fight most villains. You can do a lot of good that way. But the Endbringers would kill you as soon as they'd kill me. I can't put you in that kind of danger. Don't you see, Taylor? I can't lose you too."
Tears were streaming down his cheeks. I hugged him, careful of my strength. I didn't want to hurt him like he was hurting me. He didn't, probably couldn't, understand how important this was, and not just to me.
Armsmaster didn't say I couldn't go because Dad refused permission. He said I was too dangerous and would cost the lives of real heroes. The Protectorate keeping me out of Endbringer battles meant they were saying I wasn't a real hero. I was a danger to be avoided and contained. I knew that was what Team Nemesis was really, a way to keep me controlled, away from the real heroes while still getting some use out of me. I wondered if Beck had some sort of special tinkertech round that could kill me if they higher ups finally decided I was too dangerous to keep around. I know she'd take the shot and be glad to do it.
That night I was supposed to get together with Michelle and Moira to wander the Lord's Street Market. I almost cancelled, but after Dad's revelation I needed to get out of the house.
"Hey, T," Michelle Washko stood to hug me as I came in the bookshop/coffee house. The small seating area was packed, mostly with students, and several were pointing at me. I ignored it. That was my new normal. Moira Christner was at the table. She waved and smiled.
"I was worried you might be in Australia," Michelle said, holding up her phone to show a news site.
I looked around, saw people were listening, so I leaned in and lowered my voice. "They wouldn't let me go."
"Who wouldn't?" Michelle asked.
"Armsmaster and my Dad," I almost whispered. "Dad doesn't want me getting hurt,"
"That's normal," Moira interjected. "Most Wards don't get permission to go to Endbringer battles." I noticed she sounded concerned.
"Yeah, maybe," I admitted. I had forgotten that. It was a topic that got a lot of discussion on PHO. "But Armsmaster said I would never be allowed to fight the Endbringers. He said I was too dangerous for the other capes to be around."
I caught Moira almost nodding. But before I could ask her why she agreed, Michelle interjected with feeling. "Oh man, that's gonna suck."
We both looked at her.
"You know my dad's on the BBPD?" We nodded. "I was thinking how his fellow officers would feel if he were held back from an all hands alert because he was too dangerous to the other cops. They'd either think he was a prima donna, a coward, or too stupid to be given a gun. None of those are good."
"Yeah," I replied glumly. "I don't think my dad gets that at all. I don't really blame him. As you said, the other Ward parents mostly don't let their kids go either.
"Other than Panacea," Michelle pointed out. "But she's one of the top healer capes in the world."
"But for Armsmaster to say I'll never be allowed, that I'm supposed to run away." I slowly shook my head in shame. "I might as well just quit now."
"Taylor," Moira said, her voice more intense than her usual mousy whisper. "Think of it from their point of view. You're the anti-hero. No, not that. The anti-cape! If you get too close to them your power shuts them all down. And it's not like you have a visible border where your field starts. Just one wrong step and, boom, no powers. That would be dangerous in a big fight. In an Endbringer battle, it could be deadly. I'm not saying it's your fault or anything, and they know that. But you don't want to cost lives just so you can play in their reindeer games, do you?"
"No! Of course not. But…," I paused, uncertain what I wanted to say. She was right. My power did not play well with others. And I couldn't turn it off. "It just sucks."
We were quiet for several seconds, then Michelle changed the subject. "I think you need a change of scenery. My family is going to my uncle's cabin in Vermont this weekend. It's the beginning of the February Recess. No school next week, so we can stay a few days. There's an art fair and we might even get some skiing in. I can ask them if you both can come if you want. We leave Saturday morning godawful early, but it will probably be fun."
"I can't," Moira said sadly. "My father has a fundraiser Saturday night and I have to be there. Family solidarity and all that."
I thought for a moment. I really did not want to deal with Dad this weekend nor did I want to hang around the PRT to be reminded of my status as a parahuman pariah, so getting away would be a good thing. I decided not to ask Dad. I'd just leave a note.
"Yeah, that sounds good."