AN: The sixth of several side-stories I'm porting over from Spacebattles. This was again, originally written by anothvortex. Shared here with his permission.

Side-Story: A Cry for WAR...

Carol looked at the still body of her daughter, her Victoria, and felt numb. Kaiser's final strike was mercifully covered by a thick hospital blanket. She tried to see something in the dead face, some hint at what the teen (still so young!) had been thinking. Why had she been out fighting the Empire on no sleep, against their wishes? Why did she have to fight as if no one else would? Why had her precious daughter refused to listen to everyone who had warned her about this course of action, and why it was such a bad idea?

The far too still face kept it's secrets, tended by the Medical Examiner before she had even gotten the call.

That was okay. Carol already knew the answers.

"We're not done here, Victoria!"

Turning to face her after the so-called briefing about the Braid situation had turned into a finger pointing fiasco, Glory Girl radiated pure rage. "Oh, I think we're done, MOTHER. You lost any right to interfere with Taylor's problems when you kept refusing to help me deal with them!"

Flushing in frustration, Brandish drew herself up to loom over the teen, only to realize that Vicky had somehow gotten too tall to let it happen. When did she get so big? "You barely know this girl, and kept trying to stick your nose into the Wards business! They have their own rules, regulations, and getting tangled in that quagmire can backfire! If she really was being so abused, why didn't she just leave? It's hardly a prison sentence, and she wasn't part of some probationary deal?" While not exactly advertised, young teens left the Wards program all the time. They usually just did not advertise it because of a gag order tied into their Trust Fund payout.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Victoria yelled back. "She needed the money, okay? Her dad's sick, and this was the only way she could afford to take care of him. Plus Piggot the Puke decided to IGNORE the sections of her Ward contract that stated she never should be paired with Shadow Stalker in the fucking first place! The PRT have been acting like a bunch of bastards, and no one wants to hold them accountable! So much for the ideals of New fucking Wave!"

Refusing to back down and furious that her own child would talk back to her so blatantly, Carol snapped. "So she started a relationship with a villain? Think about who you are trying to defend here! A conniving little, two-faced TRAITOR!"

Taking a deep breath through her nose, the blonde teen growled back. "I've actually met Lisa, and she's not some genocidal monster. She might be a smart ass, but they really care about one another. Did you hear what they were saying in there? Mother fucking GALLANT knew that there was enough toxic hate between two Wards to warrant Endbringer decontamination protocols! But just like everyone here they didn't want to fix the problem. Well fuck that. I am finding the f...friend I failed and I am making sure she's safe. Unless you are willing to help me, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!"

Shocked at the girls volume, Brandish was not prepared to be side stepped so easily.

Reaching out, she brushed the loose hair away from the unmoving face. All Carol could think was that Vicky had never been so cold...

"Carol, are you sure about this?"

Looking out the window and fuming, the attorney snapped at her sister. "Piggot is desperate. She either wants a win to justify some fragment of this entire disaster or she's decided to go out with a bang. Throwing a bunch of uncoordinated, unfamiliar Parahumans in the general direction of the gangs as they "happen" to be looking for Braid is foolish in the extreme. Better we stay out of it. I'm sure there will be heroes in the morgue before this is all done."

The unofficial leader of New Wave paused before replying. "Is there any word from Vicky yet? She's refusing my calls and Crystal can't get through either."

Forcing herself not to reflexively generate a hard-light blade, Carol gritted out. "I managed to use Armsmaster to open a line of communication. It didn't go very well. She's refusing to come home until THAT GIRL is found."

Sarah clicked her tongue. "I can't blame her for that. The PRT didn't just drop the ball there. They took it out back and shot it multiple times. I hope they throw the Library of Congress at those idiots. No child deserves to be treated so poorly, especially by the people who promised to help them."

Closing her eyes, Brandish bit out. "She joined the villains, Sarah. She killed a teenager. Trauma or no, there must be accountably."

Lady Photon replied, her tone hard. "Indeed. Accountability from the adults who failed to protect traumatized, superpowered children from attacking one another. It really says something about the people involved that a villain was the best human connection that an established Ward made. Especially when her leader was clueless, her chain of command didn't care, and her overwatch was more interested in his hormones than doing his job. Keep trying to get through to Vicky. If you can't by tomorrow, I'm going to the PRT directly and dragging her home to sleep."

Hearing her sister, (one of the few she could trust!) hang up on her left Carol feeling hollow.

Taking a deep breath, Brandish turned to leave the Morgue. Mark was sitting outside, his head cradled in his hands. She wanted to hug him, to cry, to offer some moment of escape from this living nightmare. But she walked on. There was someone she needed to talk to.

Standing down the hallway, a PRT topper "coincidentally" lounging nearby with a tank of Containment Foam, stood Bastion. The previously agressive Protectorate Hero was standing in place, residue from the fight that...that KILLED HER DAUGHTER still staining his power armor. "Ma'am...I..."

Brandish moved, years of combat training coming to the forefront in an instant. As a result, the other Parahuman had barely a second to realize his face was filled with an energy weapon.

Carol spoke, her fury tranquil in it's intensity. "I'm going to ask you this once. Did you set up my daughter to be killed by the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

Eyes widening, Bastion rapidly shook his head. "Of course not! I tried to get her to leave multiple times. She just wouldn't listen to me!"

Scowling, Brandish increased the width of her weapon. "That sounds like her. Vicky...Vicky always hated racists. Now then, who struck the final blow?"

Very aware of the plasma-like weapon pointed at his nose, and the lack of action from his PRT escort, the shield generating Shaker answered quickly. "One of the giant twins with a sword knocked her down while Kaiser played the bait. Then I think he did the deed, but he could have just taken the credit."

Narrowing her eyes, Brandish dispersed her weapon. "I would strongly suggest that you park your posterior here for the time being. I believe that you have done more than enough to help the Brockton Bay Protectorate."

Turning, she addressed Mark. There were far too many things she should have said, wanted to say, but in the end her rage won out. Just like it always did. "I am going to go have a chat with a certain bimbo. Please...stay safe."

With that, Carol Dallon left, murder in her heart.