Chapter XXVII

Trojan Woman

"You should really let me look at you, see if you're wounded somewhere."

Buddy shook his head again, not bothering with a verbal answer for Helen this time. Instead, he murmured an apology and pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to Violet's ear. She hissed, wincing away.

They had made it back to the house first and locked it down. With a key code and command, metal plating slid down from the very top of the roof, covering every external surface, conserving power, and leaving just enough for the lights and security system.

Bob and Helen had followed, with Dash bringing up the rear after freeing the prisoners inside the facility. They had been admitted inside and informed that Liam and Mirage took off to Meiko's house, ensuring that she was in no danger of retaliation from the mess they caused. A call from Liam himself on the special emergency line had put any fears to rest. They were packing up Mirage's cousin and helping her out of the country before returning home, just in case. They had even tipped off the local police, directing them to the lab to pick up the once prisoners, getting the ball rolling on dismantling the harm the late Fell had created.

Now Violet and Buddy sat on the kitchen stools, the former still not speaking a word. They were stripped down, Violet to her black slip and Buddy to his undershirt and boxers. It was dangerous to walk around covered in so much foreign blood, and fearful of pathogens, Helen had filled up the master bath's tub with cold water to soak all of their suits.

After the chaos and noise of the battle before, the quiet seemed to ring in her ears like the echoes of a distant church bell. They all moved with quiet solemnity, and with the way Helen and Dash eyed Buddy, Violet knew her father had somehow communicated the news of his situation to them quietly.

Buddy was tending to Violet's ear, butterfly bandages already on their cheeks. Besides the few and far between sentences spoken between them, silence reigned. Helen was examining a scrape on her father's neck where a piece of shrapnel from Petite Voyage's bomb caught him, while Dash sat on the other side of the island, handing over supplies to both nurses, his own gaze a million miles away.

Sighing, Buddy leaned back, replacing the compress to stem the blood leaking out from Violet's ear. "I don't know if I need to stitch something. It doesn't look too bad. Really bloody and a little bit is missing off the tip but... Do you want to look at it and tell me?"

Violet shook her head under his hold.

Another sigh. "Okay. Hand me those bandages, kid, and that gauze. Actually, come here and hold this to her head for me." Dash pressed the compress down with a steady force while Buddy unwrapped the bandages. He wound them around her head, holding the compress to her ear before tying it off behind her head.

Sitting back, he fingered a short ebony lock. "Your hair…" It was uneven and ragged, bobbed around her chin. Her head felt lighter and freer, and a small glimmer of hatred sparked. She loved her hair, it was her best feature in her opinion. But the illogic of that particular anger quickly snuffed out whatever feeling had begun to emerge. She was too icy inside for any type of warmth, even rage.

"I'm sorry." Buddy swallowed hard and looked away from her. "...I'm sorry." It took Helen a moment to realize he was speaking to her. "We failed."

"Fail…? Fell is dead!"

"We were supposed to bring him back alive."

Bob glanced at his wife. His words were almost like...deferment, seeing as death had been his goal the entire time. A total opposite to how he usually treated them. He's looking for stability, Violet's clinical side whispered, the only system that seemed to be functioning in her body. He always looked to my father for a base; good or bad. It's always been this way. It's stable. Familiar.

Mr. Incredible swallowed. "We were supposed to stop him. And we did-you did."

But Buddy shook his head. "No, whoever was funding him this whole time did. Echo or whoever is in the government that lent out a sniper. We did nothing, we-I-was completely incidental."

"Syndrome-" Bob started.

"I didn't do anything," he repeated emphatically, sliding off the stool and beginning to pace. "Someone else took him out because he was a liability. They saw us talking to him, saw we had him, and killed him before we got any information. Shot him right in the head."

"Maybe the name's in the books," Dash offered weakly. Violet flinched, she couldn't even comprehend looking through those papers. More horror. She felt so empty but at the prospect of looking at more documents of Fell's, she felt like her brain would overflow. She knew she should tell them about her fears, her doubt of Echo but…there was time for that.

For the villains of this world there was time, but for her Buddy…

"It doesn't matter," Buddy snapped, beginning to sound like himself again. "It doesn't matter, what don't you get? We didn't win. We didn't fix the problem. Whoever funded him got away, and I knew that was a possibility but I always thought we'd at least get him. That I'd kill him."

By this time his voice had raised, and Buddy had gone beyond speaking to ranting. Bob slid off his chair and edged around him, like approaching a wild animal. "Just, sit, for a second. You're still wounded-"

He laughed, a high-pitched unhinged thing, and looked at Violet's father with an unseeing gaze. "Do you know how many times I imagined it? Hmm? I'd lie awake in the lab, just thinking about it. Every time he touched me I thought I'll break his fucking fingers, one by one. I'll rip him apart and hear him scream. And I dreamed about ending him. It was all I thought about. It's all I wanted. I would have died just to have a chance. Even when I had to kneel and yes sir no sir I know I'd be the one to fucking kill him. Put a bullet right there-" Buddy rapped a knuckle sharply against his own forehead, bone knocking bone loudly, "-right between his eyes. He thought he was so goddamn smart I wanted to blast that smart out of him and toss away the body, whatever was left!"

"Calm down, son, you're gonna hurt yourself. Buddy, listen–"

"Do you know how I'd obsess over it?! Nothing, not even you trumped that dream. How it would feel to cut off his pleading and blow his fucking brains out?! To finally put an end to it all and know he'll never find me? And that way I could sleep again, I could breathe again, I could live! I'd never hear him talking to me, promising me it would end and it would never end! It doesn't end, but if I could just kill him it would!

"And now...and now I will never know if it would have helped." Buddy's voice finally cracked, squeaked like a preteen and he turned away sharply. He covered his mouth, then jerked the damp fingers away, almost surprised at feeling the tears leak out of his eyes. "I will never know if I would have felt better…" he whispered to his palm. "And now I'm gonna die without knowing if it would have helped. I...I'm gonna…" Buddy turned to his love. "...We won't…"

Violet slid off her stool, gently pushing her father out of the way. Buddy seemed to snap back to himself at her approach, and shook his head, swiping quickly at his face. "I'm fine. No, I'm fine. Nevermind. I'm okay, princess." But with each brush of his hands, they grew wetter, until they did nothing to stem the flow. "I just, I just need help to stop doing this. I just need to stop crying, just help me stop crying, please I just...just help me please, Vi, please-"

She wound her arms around him, and when Buddy leaned on her, her knees buckled. They slid down to the tile floor, Violet tucking his head under her chin as he began to sob, great wracking cries trembling through him, wails bouncing off the tile of the kitchen in the sudden frightened silence. And all she could do was hold him tight to her body, letting him weep out tears that were strangely absent in her own eyes. Violet rocked them back and forth as the villain pleaded for aid, for her, for a peace that could not be gained from killing, but was too long in coming for his short life.

Violet buried her nose in his hair and tried to memorize the scent of trees and spice he always carried with him, knowing that she would need it when she walked the world alone. It was a detached sort of thought, a need as commonly vital as food or water and as emotionless as well. Violet knew she would someday want to remember the smell of him, the feeling of his arms around her. But at that moment, she just couldn't muster up the energy to feel the pang of wretched despair along with it. Just the hollowness.

Her family stood around them, unsure and unable to help. Bob couldn't look at him, instead focusing on his own shoes, while Helen went to Dash who had begun to weep silently. When Buddy's wails had lessened to soft stuttering breaths on Violet's shoulder, she softly decreed they needed rest. It was the only remedy the mother could offer.

Violet helped Buddy up, taking him and Fell's binder down to the lab. She tossed the papers onto the glass desk and shut the door behind them, turning and activating the lock. Violet could simply not stomach the company of anyone who could not understand their pain, their well-meaning condoling looks nothing but salt in the wound.

Despite how heavy he was, she led him to his spartan bedroom and laid down, pulling him on top of her. It was hard to breathe, and finally, they adjusted to something like comfortable. His cheek rested on her shoulder, arms still tight about her waist. Violet still held his head to her, running her fingers through his wet hair from where Helen had insisted on scrubbing the blood out. His breath ghosted across her throat, and the longer she lay there growing warm from his closeness, the more the ice inside melted. The hours ticked by and it seemed her heart finally caught up with her head.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered when Violet was sure he had exhausted himself to slumber. "I'm sorry I can't save you this time, my love."

A single tear dropped from her lashes, nothing more. Just a little reminder that under the cracking, dripping glacier of her suffering, Violet still had the capacity to hurt, just a little bit more.

Waking when you were already dead was an interesting thing.

It came in stages: first confusion of how he had come to be in his lab bedroom, then a flood of memories from the night before. Bloodshed and screaming (his leg throbbed as a reminder of his fight with a hanger door), Violet nearly dying, and himself…

I'm really going to do it, he thought. I'm going to die.

It was so much better when he assumed it would be a quick thing-a bullet, or a blade to the heart-thing that was in his chest. Falling from a height headfirst and splattering his brains on the ground. Perhaps there would be a few minutes of pain, and excruciating as it might be, he knew it would end soon enough. There was a comfort in that thought, the kind that made prisoners joke before their ascent to the block. All he'd have to do is grit his teeth and bear with it until it was done. The after? Buddy figured he'd sweat about it when he got there.

And then Violet and her goddamn hope. Making him believe there was a chance for them, for a life. After losing absolutely everything he could settle for small private living. A small home with her and hours spent in each other's company, laughing, talking–even fighting with her for years seemed pleasant enough. They'd ramble on, share ideas and dreams, love, and hell, maybe have a kid to boot. He had witnessed odder things in his years than a villain having a picket fence, after all.

Now? Now when they returned it would be all of the bullshit of the NSA and chaos of the fall out with none of the rewards. He knew how things worked in government, used the stalemates and biblically long transitions to his advantage when cutting weapons deals. He wouldn't live long enough to have even a sliver of peace after Violet was through sussing out the leak-which she now apparently thought was someone else.

I'm going to die, what does it matter?

He swallowed, carefully lifting himself off of Violet. She was sleeping, lashes still glistening with unshed tears.

I'm sorry.

Rubbing his face, he pushed himself to sit up, not bothering to limp to the bathroom for the oxycodone. So what if he was in pain? It's not like it would get better. What was there to do anyway? For once he was without a plan and couldn't muster the care to make one. Tanaka's men would be searching for them, so they were stationary for a while. But with Fell dead, his contact would be sent scrambling-

Who cares?

The apathy he felt was familiar. It had been his mentality those first years of slavery, fresh from his Metroville failure. And then seeing it all again, seeing his unscared face so full of pride and confidence. Buddy wasn't sure if he longed for that ignorant bravado again, or if he wanted to go back in time and strangle that stupid kid who thought he could be a god.

Couldn't see what was right in front of my face, always looking for something I didn't have. And now I have nothing.

He considered his lover again. Her hair-that glorious mane he had eyed for so long. Running his hands through it felt like dipping his fingers under a waterfall, it carried the scent of lilies and jasmine when her ponytail whipped around as she turned to him to rebuke and argue, and skated tantalizingly over his skin when she straddled him, curtaining them from the world as they made love.

Cut short.

All gone. God, he had to leave before he grew any more sentimental. If he cried again, he wouldn't worry about his life petering out in some pathetic end because Buddy was going to hang himself. He touched his neck gingerly where he was sure the flesh still bore chain marks. Well, maybe not hang, as it was very unpleasant and slow…

He stood, his restlessness compounded with aimlessness. As he moved, he limped, his right leg unable to support much weight. He barely made it to the computer desk before he fell heavily into one of the chairs. It had been a while since he missed a dose, and the drugs at the party had all been uppers, no painkillers. He was sure there was a bottle somewhere-as much as he didn't care about his continued suffering, the pain was growing annoying now as it restricted his breathing.

He tossed their blueprints to the ground, searching the desk for a spare bottle or bag of pills. He usually stashed them some whe-

Movement caught his eye-one of the monitors devoted to the cameras in the house. Most rooms were either black from disconnection or lack of occupants. Most of the house would be dark due to the plating covering the glass and any entryway.

But the living room now was brilliantly light. Mostly due to the fucking hole that had been blasted through the armor. Glass from the destroyed wall winked in black and white, and there, in the middle, the three Incredibles kneeling, hands cuffed behind their backs. Buddy started, gripping the desk in shock. How-

There! Moving from the kitchen-he knew that guy! It was the little shit who was on the Ultra case. Buddy had observed him hundreds of times outside of a hit, talking to the owners, warning them of the possibility of the vigilante paying them a visit. He wasn't wearing his mask, kneeling before Mr. Incredible, talking to him. The old man answered emphatically, shouting and trying to break free of the cuffs. Why couldn't he break free?

Buddy's nose was practically pressed against the glass of the screen as he squinted. Those weren't normal cuffs. They were made of white metal.

Christ.

What did he do, what could he do?!

Well, he knew the first thing he wasn't going to do was wake Violet. God Almighty, if she knew her family was in danger she'd run in there without stopping or thought for all she liked to plan. He understood where she was, the numbness that came with close death encounters, and how someone that shocked might do something, anything, to crack the ice that enveloped them. No, she stayed here.

Thinkthinkthink-The secret passageways. If he could get upstairs, get into Ultra's suit and somehow grab his baton without being seen he might be able to knock the super out without having to engage in a fight. He started, the pain was almost forgotten as he limped up the stairs. Buddy locked the door behind him, hearing voices distantly float down from the den. If he had a heart it would have been pounding. Instead, all Buddy felt was sick.

Up, up the passages to the master. Mrs. Parr had laid the suits out to dry sometime in the night. His was only slightly damp as he tugged it on, and the helmet smelled like rotten iron. He tried not to gag. Where was his blade? Fuck, in the kitchen. He'd have to be careful, they'd almost have a direct view from the den.

Down again, coming upon the kitchen exit and pressing his ear to the door. He heard raised voices, but they weren't on the other side of the wall, not close. A little crack of the door, peering out. So far, so good, no one in the kitchen. He went on his knees, slithering out from the entranceway, opening the wall only as much as he needed to get through. Damn him and his height.

There, leaning against the island. Ground crawling across the tile, he carefully lifted it, wincing as the metal scraped slightly against the porcelain of the floor. But the Incredibles' shouting was covering him well enough. He peered around the island into the den.

The young super was holding something out to the patriarch. "It'll help!"

"I'm not going to do it! How could you Robbie? I let you into my home. Into my family. I can't believe I hoped you and Violet-"

"Mr. Parr, please! Everything will make sense once you take this. You're brainwashed!"

"No! I'm seeing clearly now! Why else would you have us in chains?!"

"That's what Vi was screaming about," Dash snapped. "You're the leak too! You betrayed us!"

"The what? Dash please." Robbie shook his head. Jesus, he sounded like he was going to cry. "I don't want to force you, just take this and it'll be better! Ultra brainwashed you, but this is the antidote!"

Cold dropped into Buddy's stomach. He put a hand to the helmet's side, adjusting the view zoom, and sure enough, in the idiot's hand was a neon blue tablet. Vi was right, he agreed. He had to get to them, get them out of those binds before the little prick force-fed them the tablet. It wouldn't work right away, but if there was a fight, all the super had to do was drag it out long enough for the release into the bloodstream.

Helen pulled at her binds, hissing. Buddy heard the snap of electricity at her struggle. That was why Incredible wasn't free. "We aren't brainwashed and we weren't taken by Ultra!"

"Why else would you destroy a Tokyo hotel? Mrs. Parr please, just think about it for a second. You aren't a killer, but there's blood everywhere-there are twenty people dead! This isn't you, any of you! He's made you think that we're the enemy, he tricked you, drugged you o-or something. But we've got this, it'll help I promise."

He knelt and held it out to her, close to her mouth. Helen bit her lip, turning her face sharply away. By that time Buddy had slid to the wall and began to push up, carefully getting to his feet. He caught her eye over Robbie's shoulder. He put a finger to where his lips would be about, carefully advancing on the boy. "You listen, Robbie. You think: Ultra isn't the enemy."

The man shot up, and Buddy stopped dead. But he didn't turn. "He's a murderer! Don't you remember me hunting him?! Oh my God, what has he done to you!?"

"He hit only crooks, Robbie. I'm not saying he's not a killer, but look at what he was trying to do. Doesn't it seem weird? Did they give you any info on what was going on in that hotel? Did they tell you anything they found in there instead of bodies?"

"That's all I need-"

"Did they find the teenagers they were trafficking in there? How about all the drugs? Did they even let you see the reports or did Echo insist you got out immediately?"

A pause. "Traffic…? I-he didn't-t-there...wasn't time for reports. You were in danger! We had to take Snug's jet as soon as we heard it was Ultra-"

"Echo isn't who you think he is," Bob was saying, trying very hard (and failing even harder) not to keep glancing at Buddy as he approached. "Why is it Echo was so willing to drive you around? To keep tabs on your Ultra case?"

Buddy raised his blade, aiming the hilt right at the back of the boy's sandy brown head–

"Syndrome LOOK OUT!"

A shriek pierced Buddy's skull, disrupting the helmet's systems and sending his vision into static. It was high pitched, like a sonar machine from hell and he was shoved bodily into the kitchen counter from the force of it. Waves of sound washed over him, pinning him there as the scream went on and on. He dropped to his knees, crying out as the sound echoed inside his head.

A boot connected with his chest, kicking him backward and pinning him to the ground. Finally, the awful screaming stopped. Someone ripped his helmet off and threw it somewhere across the kitchen. Robbie had his foot on his chest and was pressing until Buddy swore he felt something inside dent. Fell had said the now-dead Lucy's strength rivaled that of Incredible. Another lie: her strength (and Bob's)-was nothing compared to this. Robbie was younger, stronger, and in his prime. There was no escaping-and most importantly no goddamn breathing.

The next second another super was at his side, his suit's design scalloped like bat wings across the shoulders. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he peered down into Buddy's face. "Did they just say–Holy shit–Syndrome?!"

"You slimy little insect." Robbie removed his foot only to grab Buddy by the suit and haul him up. Despite being a little shorter, Robbie held Buddy a good inch off the ground, his fist at his collar choking him. "What was Ultra, huh? A way to get close to them?! You kidnapped Violet-you made some ploy about being trapped to get her to help you, didn't you!? That's why she couldn't remember who trapped her, that's why I could never find you! Was this your revenge-to finally have an Incredible on your side, you pathetic bastard!"

The only revenge is on me, have you met him, Buddy thought, torn between annoyance at himself for not concentrating on, say, breathing and that he couldn't spit the witticism in the boy's face.

"Put him down," Incredible shouted. "Robbie, stop!"

"He can't breathe!" Dash almost sounded scared. Poor kid. Bad timing for sympathy really.

"Let him talk," Echo said, voice calm despite the circumstances. "Where's Violet, you sack of shit?"

Buddy's lip curled-and he was about to taunt them with her absence. You'll never find her was on his lips. But no-no they'd comb the forest for her then, and probably try leveling the house to get to her. She was the thorn in their side, the crimp in Echo's plan. He wanted her above else, and what he gathered from the Parrs' talk, not just to put her six feet under. No, he had to throw them off the scent.

What does it matter what they'll do to me? I'm a dead man anyway.

"Go climb a tree," Buddy spluttered, finding the strength to grin into the super's handsome scared face. "You'll never get her now."

"Where is she," Robbie repeated, shaking him.

"Queen to queen's level three." Another bone-rattling shake. After his brain stopped rattling in his skull, Buddy forced a laugh. It was a good one too, pretty hysterical. He'd sound properly off his rocker. "Why do you need to know? Wanna pay your respects?"

"Respects…"

Echo's eyes widened behind his mask. "Violet-you killed her?!"

"Isn't that what insects do?" Buddy let his head fall back as he laughed, the sound coming easier now. Because really, it was pretty funny. To think he'd end up here, gladly covering for his nemesis and his daughter-that they'd plead for his life. It was cosmically hilarious and he planned on dying of laughter. "Kill after sex?"

Robbie didn't expect to have Buddy ripped from his grasp, and stumbled back when Echo threw the metal man into the kitchen island. It caught Buddy in the spine and he fell hard on his knees. The last thing he saw was a black boot coming straight for his face. A crack of bone, both in his nose and as his head hit the island, someone screaming his name and then…

….

…..

…

Violet started when she saw movement in the camera.

Her voice was still raw from her screaming, her knuckles bruised and bloody. Waking without Buddy had made her panic enough. Her little dissociation problem was quite easily solved when she skidded out into the lab and caught sight of the cameras. She had watched the scene unfold utterly helpless-because Buddy had keyed the lab door only to his voice command, and never changed it.

No matter how she beat on the lab door, tried wedging her shields into the air-tight seal, screamed number combinations to the computer until she was sure she'd cough up blood, nothing opened and no one could hear her. Of course, now the soundproofing worked perfectly. She had hurried back to the video feed and watched in horror as Buddy tried and failed to save her family. She had slapped every button on the keyboard, trying to recall every keystroke she learned in college, to no avail. All she had been able to do was turn the sound on and listen to Buddy's lie, and the screaming of her parents as Echo kicked him into unconsciousness, not letting up until Robbie pulled him off.

He'd looked like a damn mess, face covered in blood. Buddy had looked dead.

The two supers had searched the house anyway, calling her name. They had found her torn and bloody gown and considered it confirmation of her demise. Unfortunate Echo. He had wept real tears, shouting apologies into the ruined silk as he rocked on his knees. Maybe he truly did love her.

The poor patsy.

Helen had slithered her way handlessly to Buddy, trying to revive him with words only, but nothing roused the man. In the end, the agents had decided to take them back to the NSA. Let Surratt handle it.

And how she would handle it.

Violet had fallen back into the chair, shaking. She was free to follow and would not be looked for at least in the immediate future. Buddy had bought her time-time wasted by being locked in this fucking lab. All she could do was watch them drag Buddy's body out of the house, her parents and brother not long after.

Now, she sat, having gone to every wall in the entire structure, kicking and pressing, trying to find an entrance. After all, there had to be some way Buddy had snuck into her room. But whatever way that was, the entrance wasn't here or would not open to her.

But as she contemplated what she could destroy in her frustration, she saw two figures enter the den from Robbie's hole in the wall. Liam and Mirage! They stumbled in, panic etched into their features as they called, screaming for anyone who might still be inside.

But they wouldn't hear her any more than Buddy had. Violet slapped her hand on the table again in frustration, sending the other keyboards to the floor. The monitors next to her woke up, a video replying on one. It was a lab observation from a few days ago. Violet sitting in the center of the glass observation chamber, Buddy speaking to her from one of their sessions where they asked her to perform, again and again, shields and invisibility, and mobility and-

-And making spheres in rooms she couldn't see.

Turning back to the video feed, Violet clutched the monitor and stared hard, concentrating. She knew that room, she knew its location above her. It couldn't be that hard, easier than doing it blind. She fixed her eyes on the den, focusing on one of the couches surrounding the fire pit as Liam and Mirage panicked at the destruction.

She knew that place, she had sat there so many evenings, focus–focus and reach, up above her, slightly to the right. Visualize it right on that couch, right where you were sitting and-

A sphere, winking, weak, and gone.

She saw Mirage jump. "Violet?"

Again, another sphere, just as weak and just as brief. "Where are you lass," Liam called.

Violet tried to create a sphere and move it towards the stairs, but it was hard enough just to get it to appear. She suffered a whole agonizing thirty minutes watching them run from room to room (at least the rooms with cameras still on), flinging open closets and looking under beds until they got to the lab door. Liam swore when his own passcode was rejected. "Violet, can you hear me?"

"She made another sphere in the den," Mirage called from the top of the stairs.

"Must be watching from the cameras. I'm coming!" He ran up the stairs. "The forest entrance-that door should still open for my code. Violet! If you can hear me, get to the hanger!"

Violet sprinted down the runway, weaving in between the old hovercrafts and the omnimetal jet. That ship sat directly under the hatch that must have led into the forest, on top of the helipad that would raise it up.

Every second seemed like an eternity until she heard a loud whining groan of metal. The hatch doors shook as they retracted. Violet shielded herself as eight years of debris and forest floor fell into the hanger.

"Violet?!"

"I'm here!" She had grabbed Fell's file from the computer desk and, clutching it to her chest, cast a shield. Jumping on, she hopped from shield to shield as she had shown them in the containment chambers, until she was above ground, landing in the soft grass next to Liam. He pulled her up, taking her shoulders to steady her.

"Jesus! Your hands! Lass, what-"

"The leak sent agents," Violet reported, shaking off his hands and pounding back towards the house. "Robbie and Echo. We need to make a ladder down into the lab."

"What do you mean, sent Echo? He is the leak."

But Violet was already shaking her head. "No. He's not. He doesn't have the power or the contacts to make Tanaka bend rules or assign a marine sniper."

That had been her final confirmation, the point of no return where doubt had been erased.

Echo did have access to supers, Echo could very easily have the money to fund Fell for a little while. He carted supers around and through his family's various businesses could track them with great ease.

But Echo was a cog in the machine. Just stupid enough to be a convincing and blundering fall guy. He didn't have the power or contacts to hide Fell in Russia so quickly. He didn't have the ability to send the Parrs to Ultra in hopes of them killing each other off in a blaze of glory. Violet had been too worried, too desperate to put a name to the faceless concept of betrayal, she hadn't looked at Martin's situation well enough. Echo wasn't bright, but even he wasn't stupid enough to send out an assassin in a car so easily traced back to his home and hearth.

Surratt, however, had been over-eager to contract outside sources so they would have no ally to turn to that wasn't tainted by her influence. Surratt had the power to alter the paths of agents' duties, conveniently steering them away from Fell. It was the same reason she had been so easy about letting the Parrs go from command under the guise of caring for Violet's health-she was glad for Violet to be out of her way, far from her and no longer able to investigate from within. She wasn't eager to get quick, competent resources-she had been using them by proxy to keep Fell safe and supplied, all the while hiding her own hand. After all, they all reported to her, there was no information, save for Violet's secrets, that did not first pass by her desk.

Meg Surratt was the crack in the dam and had made leaks of them all.

She kept Elliot close to locate the supers so that she could tell Buddy through Fell where to find them for the kidnapping, used his family business to track Robbie in his search for Ultra, and then later to frame him. She had used Robbie himself to keep an eye on Ultra, so much so that she had begun to figure out the pattern within his 'random' strikes.

Meg, who had worked for the VA, had her hands deep into veteran's affairs. Martin, and, Violet was sure, the sniper as well, had been jobless vets abandoned by the institution that was supposed to help them. After all the VA isn't a model I want to follow. They were easy targets, another kind of hero desperate for aid and instruction, to use. How simple it was for her to find Martin despite Fell's workers scattering like cockroaches. Her motherly mask of concern for these jobless hopeless soldiers was probably intoxicating, as intoxicating as Mirage and all she represented had been for her father.

Violet's revelation had started during the presentation, listening to Fell talk; female brains, another successful implantation, daughters, and genetic lotteries. It was when he had said that, had talked about change and a chance to be like them, like supers, that Violet pinned where she had heard it before.

You aren't gods-just winners of the genetic lottery.

From there it had unraveled-she barely heard any of Buddy's confrontation, too deeply sunk in memory. Surratt had said that, Surratt who was so emboldened with change.

I want to find these monsters, Miss Parr. They're going to get what they deserve for what you survived.

Not gone through-survived. She hated that she had lived; a loose end. Fell had mentioned that what a pity Violet and Ultra hadn't taken each other out-that he had warned Meg Buddy and Ultra were one in the same. That was why Surratt gave Violet Syndrome's case, wanted the Parrs to sting the insurance building instead of Robbie who was the head of the investigation. It was only Violet's dumb luck that she had told Buddy about the stings, letting him come less lethally armed.

Furthermore, for all of Fell's grandiose promises, he was fighting to be recognized and failing miserably. Even with his overselling, Tanaka wouldn't have bent the rules because he liked him. No one liked Fell, but it was in Tanaka's best interest to let a man with deep state ties to the American government do what he wished

But most damning of all was her weakest bit of evidence; there was a reason Lucy had disturbed her so. Not just for the horrible fact of her existence, but something about the girl had clanged on a deep memory, a recollection so stupidly insignificant:

She and Surratt wore their hair the exact same way to hide the scar on their foreheads. Hell, Surratt's hair sometimes shone red in the light-no wonder Fell had called her, Lucy and Buddy siblings. The woman had practically shown off her 'tetanus shot' bandage where Fell had no doubt injected her with those 'hormonal supplements'.

Violet could slam her head into the wall for how stupid she had been, how easily thrown off the trail. She was beginning to understand that truly seeing was only realizing how blind one was. As she pounded back into the manor, crunching over glass and beginning to gather every blanket and sheet she could to create a rope ladder, she explained her reasoning to the couple. They both paled at the extent of their opposition.

"What can we do," Mirage demanded. "Meiko's already left, and any plane out of here could be tracked, not to talk about the time-"

"First, I need my suit back," Violet said.

Mirage was already ripping off her blouse to get to the suit's zipper. "Gladly."

"Next, Mirage, I need you to sweep this house for any information. They didn't take much in the way of paperwork, but anything with names, numbers, and whatever else you think is important-burn it. Except for this." Violet held out Fell's personal files. "Scan them and send them to Meiko wherever she's hiding-and then into every backdoor Ultra has. Hide it deep in the files so no one will notice it yet. I need this information spread far and wide, so she can't delete it."

She nodded and rushed up the stairs to change and get started. Halfway up Violet called, "And whatever list you have of Ultra's saves from the lab. We're going to need them."

That done, she rounded on Liam. "Can you fix a jet by yourself?"

Hesitated, and she saw the panic building behind his eyes. Concern for his brother in arms shook the scott's voice. "Is he still alive? I'd hate for all my work to go to waste."

It already will. Violet nearly doubled from the blow of that memory. But she'd have to roll with it-harder ones were sure to come. "He was in bad shape but I think so."

"I may not be your boy, but I can work miracles when it's needed, lass. Watch me." He took the blankets from her and jogged back into the forest.

Alone in the living room, Violet stood where her family had been kneeling. Panic was beginning to build again, but she swallowed it down. She caught her reflection in the glass wall, half-hidden by Buddy's bandage job. She crept closer to the jagged broken wall and pulled off the wrappings, inspecting her ear. A tiny bit off the top as Buddy said, but the blood had caked over, no spots of brilliant red to indicate a continual bleed.

The faint Violet in the glass looked wild, eyes darkened with rage, cropped hair a writhing pit of snaking locks on her head. This woman looked fierce and dangerous and Violet hardly knew herself. But she'd have to become fast friends with this warrior if she was going to survive what came next. Swallowing, she put a hand to her throat.

Don't lose your head, Medusa. Not yet.