Endgame 5.02

A game plan. I'd needed a game plan. The offer... The offer was too good to be true, but...

I was going. I had to take the chance to finally be free. But, game plan.

I'd talked to my dad, and he was coming with me. And he was bringing that lawyer he'd hired for me.

The next thing to decide was whether I was going as Taylor or as Empress? Either sent a message... If I went as Taylor, that was showing that I wasn't there to cause trouble, but it could also imply that I was coming in from a position of weakness. Going as Empress established that I wasn't there to fuck around, but they could take it as a threat.

The next thing to consider was insurance. I had no leverage over the PRT, no way to force them to be reasonable, so I needed a bugout plan. I mean, I'd basically Mr. Magoo-ed my way through them the last time I was there but they had to have updated security by now. That was simple enough. They'd had Dragon dig into my tunnel network from their basement. They'd placed a sealed hatch over the tunnel entrance, but I had zerglings there at all times, and there was no way that basic steel would stop them. I spawned a couple of extra zerglings and stationed them under the building. If things went pearshaped they'd have to deal with a zerg rush tearing the building apart from the basement up and wouldn't be able to focus exclusively on containing me.

Of course, if I did that, it would basically burn the last bridge across the river to a peaceful solution. My only chance of being left alone after that would be to take over the city and drive the PRT out and while I chose the name Empress I really was not looking forward to being the Immortal God-Queen of New Ellisburg.

The final thing I needed to decide was... If I wanted to focus just on myself or try to push for the others. None of the Undersiders were bad people, all things considered, and none of them ever really had an opportunity to do what they needed to do that wouldn't get them into some kind of trouble... But trying to get all of us off would be a bit harder than just trying to get them to stop coming after me.

It was... I needed to talk to people more level-headed than I was. People who hadn't spent half a year in fight or flight mode.

Endgame

One of Dad's vehicles pulled up outside our apartment building. It looked like someone stripped the guns out of a futuristic APC. On the outside, that is. A door opened up on the side and once I'd stepped in it was more like a limo.

Inside the vehicle Dad, in his armor, was sitting across and to an angle from a man in a suit. I took a seat next to my dad and got a better look at the other man. He was handsome, with a prominent scar across his cheek. He extended a hand to shake.

"Quinn Calle," he introduced while I returned the shake. "I have been retained by your father to handle your case here and, if necessary, represent you in future... Let's say 'incidents' that may happen with the Parahuman Response Team or other Law enforcement individuals."

"Uh... Yeah, nice to meet you." I'll admit it, I really had no idea how to respond and was a bit too anxious to think straight.

Quinn's eyes narrowed a bit. "So, do you know how you stop a lawyer from drowning?"

I wasn't sure where he was going with that. "No."

"You make sure he's dead before you toss him in the lake. We're like cockroaches, you have to double-tap."

I blinked.

"Sorry," he said. "You'd be surprised how often a 'lawyers are evil and are less than human' joke relaxes a nervous client. Or not. I mostly work with supervillains."

"You're not helping," I admitted.

"Again, sorry. Now, I've been working with your father, and with your friend, and I've even been in contact with the PRT—I have it on record that this is an attempt to clear up a misunderstanding and if necessary to make reparations and that they are not planning to charge or arrest you at this time. Law enforcement can lie to you, but they can't lie to me. So, if they try any funny business, they will be in a lot of trouble that they can't really afford right now."

That was... Kind of a relief. I still didn't trust the PRT as far as I could throw them though but... The idea that I'd have legal recourse if this was a trap was reassuring.

"Still, it would be best if we keep pressure on them," Quinn continued. "Someone has leaked that this is happening today, so don't be surprised if there are supporters of yours, or the local media, outside the PRT headquarters, which will help, but coming in from a position of strength... They're going to try and negotiate, so we need to go in with the most ridiculous demand so that when they try to talk us down we can still walk away satisfied. I know what your father is hoping for and what your friend thinks is reasonable, but in your own words what's the wildest possible 'win' for you, in this situation? If you had an absolute victory today, what would that look like?"

Without hesitation, I replied: "All charges against me and the Undersiders dropped, all of us getting full-fledged Protectorate Pay for the rest of our lives without having to actually sign on or be held accountable to the PRT, Canary's conviction overturned, the judge and lawyers from her trial stripped of their positions, imprisoned, and have all of their assets seized and liquidated to pay Canary reparations for the miscarriage of justice, the laws regarding the Birdcage reformed to be less blatantly evil, and for the PRT director who went on TV and slandered me as a supervillain to publically apologize to me and literally kiss my ass live on every news station in the country."

Quinn blinked. "You were surprisingly quick with that."

"I've had a lot of time to think about it."

"Well, beleive it or not, that's not too out there. We can probably invoke previous precedents to get you maybe half of that? The ass-kissing is a bit much and the stuff regarding Canary is beyond the scope of a meeting like this, but... The key is that, when we go in, after they make their own offer, that we deliver that, what you just said, with confidence. Make them think we are completely serious and that we will not budge. Can you do that?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Good."

In far less time than I would have hoped for, the vehicle stopped. "We're here," Dad said.

I took another deep breath. Dad stepped out first, followed by Quinn. I stepped out last, and then my father, my lawyer, and I power walked to the PRT's front door. Quinn had been right, from the corners of my eyes I could see a crowd formed holding signs and a couple of film crews. Just before going in, I turned back, saw that girl that had randomly hugged me at the grocery store holding up a "Free Empress" picket sign, and gave her a thumbs up.

And then I was in the belly of the beast.