One More Trigger
Part Twenty-Seven: Three, Two, One …
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
A Few Moments Before
Taylor grinned as she sprinted down the hallway. Her bugs, placed at strategic intervals, told her exactly when and where she had to turn in order to meet up with the others. She could smell the pyrethrin in the air, but it wasn't affecting her in any significant way. Bonesaw's spiderbots were still gaining on her, but not fast enough to do them any good. The long hours on the running track out at the training camp had left her fit enough to maintain the necessary lead for the moment.
Lisa – Athena – had predicted that Jack would want to nullify the battlefield advantage that her bugs brought to the team. This was not a huge surprise; during the training exercises, her father and the other Dads had done their best to do that exact same thing, for similar (if more innocuous) reasons. He had no doubt turned to Bonesaw, the Nine's resident bio-Tinker, for a solution. Pyrethrin was easy to make in bulk and was hard to immunise bugs against, so they hadn't been entirely surprised when the Nine (now the Four) had employed it.
However, while it was hard to make a 'natural' insect that could survive pyrethrin exposure, Amy was not limited to the natural order of things. For her, evolutionary constraints were merely a polite suggestion, to be shunted aside when they became inconvenient. And so she had combined the best of both worlds; for someone of her capabilities, adding chlorophyll to the wing casings of a bug was simplicity itself. Providing the bug with air sacs and creating a gas-exchange system had only been a little more difficult.
Further adjustments were required to make it work properly, of course; Taylor had been utterly fascinated by the process, even if she had trouble following Amy's explanation of how the new organism was intended to function. Lisa, as befitted her smartass nature, professed to understand it all without difficulty. The final touch of genius, as suggested by Emma, was to give the bug an active camouflage ability. Given the same effective body shape as a cockroach, the leaf-bug could flatten itself to virtually any surface and use surface chromatophores to adjust its apparent colour and texture to match.
The end result of all this, of course, was to produce a bug that could choose not to breathe the outside air, and thus was not affected by whatever chemical the Nine brought along to throw at them. When exposed to pyrethrin, the bugs pretended to be affected by it. However, once the villains turned their attention away from the supposedly dead insects, they came back to life again, building into a swarm that was out of sight and out of mind. And one or two, being very sneaky indeed, had emplaced themselves on the villains in hard-to-spot locations, so that Taylor could keep track of them at all times. Likewise, a bug on every spider-bot meant that she knew where they were, as well.
The tactics they were using had not been decided upon in a moment, or even a day. Entire brainstorming sessions had come and gone before they had all the details hammered out, but between Lisa's intuitions and Dinah phoning in her input, they had planned for nearly every eventuality. And once they'd figured out what the Nine were likely to do, a counter had not been so hard to devise.
And it was working. Taylor's father and the other Dads had disposed of the initial wave of spider-bots coming in via the roof, and Vista had Mannequin on lockdown. Serves him right for not having anything alive in his limbs. Bonesaw's spider-bots were nasty, especially in large numbers, but the plan allowed for them as well. Once away from their diminutive mistress, they could be decoyed into a trap and disposed of with relative ease.
A quote from an old TV show went through her mind as she took a corner at speed. I love it when a plan comes together.
That, of course, was when it all came apart.
Her bugs had swept the corridor ahead at least four times, so she knew that there was nobody there. But abruptly, too fast for her to react and correct her course, a service closet door opened directly ahead of her, and someone stepped out. Even then, if he had been looking in the right direction, the collision may have been avoided by the simple expedient of stepping back into the closet. But he was looking away from her, and so by the time he registered her warning shout, it was far too late. Even as she collided heavily with them, sending them both sprawling to the ground, she belatedly recognised him. Greg Veder. Why am I not surprised.
The wind had been knocked out of her by the sudden impact; acutely aware of the danger bearing down on her in the form of the pursuing spider-bots, she struggled to regain her feet. The first of them rounded the corner just as she did so. Still got a few yards on them. I can make it. And then she stood on Greg's arm.
He shouted with pain and pulled away, rolling her ankle just as she rested her full weight on that foot. A sharp pain shot up her leg and she stumbled once more. The rest of the little arachnoid robots were around the corner now, and the closest one was less than a yard away. I've got to warn the guys!
She reached for the radio to alert her teammates, but realised too late that it had come loose during her tumble and lay just a few yards down the corridor. Bugs gathered around it, cooperating to push it toward her, even as she lunged for it. Something landed on her legs; after a moment of pressure, there was a sharp pain in her left calf. This was quickly followed by a numbing sensation that spread up her leg and body almost faster than she could think. She scrabbled for the radio, but by the time she got her hand on it, the numbness had reached her shoulders.
It spread to her arm and head equally quickly, making every motion a supreme effort. She closed her hand around the radio and tried to drag it to her mouth, but already her eyes were drifting shut and her thoughts had started to fragment. By the time the radio came close enough to speak into, she barely recalled why she wanted it. Even as she tried to focus on what she needed to do, the urgency just … slipped away. Her hand slid off the radio and she laid her head down on the nice smooth comfortable floor. She was so tired. If she could just have a little nap …
Now
"... as well as another hostage." The voice filtered through the cotton wool that surrounded Taylor's consciousness. It was smooth and self-satisfied; even before she recognised it, her dislike was automatic. When the name did click into place, it was all she could do to avoid an instinctive flinch of distaste. Jack Slash.
Apparently unaware that she was now awake, he kept talking. "Come out now, or I kill them both. Slowly. You have two minutes."
She kept her eyes closed in an effort to learn everything she could about her situation before anyone realised she was awake. That she was in a bad position she had no doubt; even if Jack Slash had not been right there and talking about killing hostages, she was starting to feel extreme discomfort from her shoulders. More to the point, she was certain her teammates would not deliberately leave her like that.
From the feel of it, someone was behind her with their arms hooked through hers to hold her more or less upright. Her head lolled to the side, prevented from dropping forwards by a persistent tug on her scalp. Whoever it is has me by the hair, which means ... A moment later, she realised that some of her hair was hanging over her face. That confirmed it; they'd taken her helmet and the attached goggles off, thereby unmasking her.
For a brief moment, she wondered why her calf muscle felt sore, until she recalled the spider-bot and how it had injected her with the knockout dosage. Okay, time to see what the bugs can tell me. Sending her senses out, she tried to connect with the swarm … and ran into a snag when nothing answered her call. Which was blatantly ridiculous, given that she had booster bugs set up where the pyrethrin couldn't begin to touch them, within easy reach of the school. Even if they've managed to kill off all the bugs in the school, I should be able to reach others elsewhere. But she couldn't. Which meant that one of the team's more painful scenarios had come about. Loss of powers. Crap.
It wasn't an entirely unexpected development; given that they were facing Bonesaw, Lisa had already flagged it as a distinct possibility. Dinah hadn't predicted it, which only meant it wasn't permanent. However, the Dads had always emphasised physical preparation on the outside chance of one or more of them having their powers neutralised, or even if they found themselves facing a foe against whom their powers simply didn't work. Usually this meant 'run away', for which eventuality they had trained assiduously. But there was always the chance of encountering a situation where running away wasn't an option.
Despite the pain in her arms, Taylor did her best to stay limp. Assess the situation. At the first opportunity, fight my way free. The others haven't been captured, so they'll be setting up to rescue me. Her first duty, she knew, was to make the others' job easier. So who's holding me? Not Jack, he wasn't behind me. Not Bonesaw, not Mannequin. Ah, Burnscar. The height was about right. But how did she get hold of my hair like that?. In that position, it'd be basically impossible. It'd need someone else to …
"How are you holding up, Burnscar?" It was Jack's voice, altogether too close.
Ah, of course. He helped her. Taylor fought to keep her body relaxed, to not flinch at all.
"Okay," the woman holding her said tonelessly. "She's heavy."
When he spoke again, Jack was far too close for her comfort. "Has she woken up yet?"
"She twitched a little while ago." Taylor thought she felt a shrug. "But I think she's still asleep."
"Hmm." This time, his voice came from mere inches away, so that she felt his breath on her face. Forewarned, she didn't flinch when someone took hold of her eyelid and lifted it. Instead, she kept her eye rolled up into her head as far as it would go. The urge to look at Jack was almost irresistible, but she held her impulses in check. I could kick him in the groin and break free of Burnscar, but then I've still got to get past Bonesaw with no powers.
"Damn." He let her eyelid drop. She heard his footsteps as he moved away; carefully, she let the eye close, then cracked the other one open just a fraction. "Hold on for a bit longer, Burnscar. When Mannequin gets back, I'll have him relieve you. Poppet, how strong was that stuff you used on her?"
She couldn't see too well without her glasses, but as far as she could tell, he was talking to Bonesaw. When the little girl replied, her voice had a defensive tone to it. "It's not my fault, Mr Jack! She's really skinny, and her body prob'ly can't metabolise it all at once. Plus, I gave her the prions. Maybe she's susceptible to stuff like that without her powers to help her out."
Prions. They're what took my powers away. Taylor vaguely recalled reading about prions. Badly folded proteins, or something like that. Bonesaw made some that screw with powers. It didn't surprise her, not at all. Some of the diminutive sociopath's previous exploits had been almost as inventive. Though I'll bet on Amy against her any day.
"Attention, Samaritans." Jack was talking into her radio again. "You've got one minute before I start carving up Ladybug and … "
"He says his name's Greg, Mr Jack," offered Bonesaw brightly.
"... and Greg," Jack Slash concluded. "Forty-five seconds, now. Better hurry."
" … now. Better hurry."
Emma chose not to answer; instead, she turned down her radio. Behind her, the others did the same. Plan A was simple; sneak close enough to rescue Taylor. If that didn't work, there was still Plan B, C and D to work with. Radios had more than one frequency, after all.
With Madison manipulating air currents to cut down the noise of her footsteps, Emma crept closer. All she needed was one good look at the scene. Movement at the corner of her eye drew her attention. A spider-bot had scuttled into view across the corridor, its beady little eyes fixed on them.
Oh shit, gotta get rid of it. Her hair lashed out in an attempt to grab the offending little construct, but it leaped back out of the way.
"There they are, Mr Jack!"
Emma's head whipped around at the sound of Bonesaw's voice. Well, there goes Plan A. Within seconds, three more spider-bots had come into view, all of them watching Emma and Madison. If we do anything hostile, Jack'll probably kill Taylor. Because he's that much of an asshole.
"Yeah," she sighed. "Here we are." She stepped forward, with Madison following.
It was a wide area in the corridor between classrooms. Jack Slash stood foursquare, cheerfully triumphant, with his fists planted on his hips. In each hand was a wicked-looking knife. Not far from him, Burnscar supported a limp – and unmasked – Taylor from behind, holding her arms immobilised. In front of Jack was someone whom Emma recognised, and wished that she didn't. Fucking Greg Veder. What's he doing here?
Greg was kneeling, with his arms bound behind him. A gag was fastened around his face; on each shoulder sat a spider-bot, looking like particularly baroque military decorations. Bonesaw stood beside Greg, her innocently cute expression all the more horrifying when Emma considered the current surroundings.
"And just in time," Jack declared. He frowned, tilting his head. "But that's not all of you, is it? Where are the people who had the shotguns in the stairwell? You ruined my poppet's fun."
"And you killed all my spider-bots," Bonesaw put in, looking more than a little unhappy. "I spent ages making those, and you killed them. How could you?"
Maybe Plan B, then. "Well, it's kind of expected, isn't it?" asked Emma, trying for a sincere tone. "You make them and send them against us, and we destroy them. It's good practice for both of us." She surveyed the scene, looking for a loophole that she could exploit against the remnants of the Nine. Reluctantly, she abandoned Plan B. Taylor was still in extreme danger if she or Madison attacked now; if she had simply been tied up, a rescue or attack may have been feasible. As it was, Jack Slash specialised in the big fuck-you; if they tried anything overt right now, Taylor would be the first to die. And even if he chose not to, Burnscar could immolate her at a moment's notice. Okay, let's go with Plan C.
"This is the last time I'm going to remind you who you should be paying attention to," Jack warned her. One of his knives drifted around almost casually; across the corridor, plaster dust kicked out of a groove in the wall that ended right next to Taylor's face. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek, while a hank of her hair drifted to the ground. "Shotguns. Who?"
Shit. Sorry, Taylor.
Taylor jolted in Burnscar's hold, and whimpered in pain. "Uh, what's going on?" She took a deep breath and looked around. "Oh, God. I've lost my powers. Oh, God." The pleading in her tone was obvious to all.
To Emma, it was as fake as a three-dollar bill. We've practised scenarios where we don't use our powers at all. The Taylor I know wouldn't panic over this. She's putting it on. Excellent.
She drew a breath and looked Jack in the eye. "PRT personnel. Director Piggot loaned them to us." She hoped that he believed her, or at least that he believed that she thought that he believed her. All her reading on Jack Slash, as brain-bleach inducing as it was, had indicated something very specific about him; he was all about the mind games. The man liked to fuck with peoples' heads. Which could lead to him pretending to accept a lie.
Silver blurred in the air as he spun both knives in his hands. "You know," he mused lazily, "I'm not so certain that I believe you. PRT would use containment foam. Or, more likely, they'd come in with a big attack instead of letting a bunch of little girls do their job for them."
"Fine," she said tightly. "It's a union rep, a divorce lawyer and an accountant. Taking time out of their busy day to come and shoot skeet. Does that suit you better?" She knew she was treading a razor's edge here, but it was Taylor's life on the line.
Unexpectedly, he laughed out loud. "Now, that sounds like the beginning of a joke. 'A union rep, a divorce lawyer and an accountant walk into a school'." He raised his eyebrows, tilting his head with a grin. "Now, if you don't call them up on the radio and tell them that Ladybug's going to meet with a very bad end if they don't come down and give themselves up … well, Ladybug's going to meet with a very bad end."
"I can do that," Emma agreed carefully. "We're using code-names over the radio, in case anyone's listening in. Just so you know." She took hold of the radio in her pocket and pressed the send button. As she lifted it out of her pocket, she turned it so that this wasn't obvious.
"That's fine," Jack said easily. "I'll be listening. And if I hear anything that I don't like, then Ladybug loses an eye, or worse. Just so you know." The knives did that silver-blur thing again.
"Understood." Emma raised the radio to her mouth. "Sparx calling all personnel. Delta Hotel, Alpha Bravo, Papa Charlie, do you copy?" Plan C is a go.
Danny Hebert's voice came back over the radio almost immediately. "Delta Hotel here. The others are with me. Status?"
"Ladybug confirmed hostage but not injured," Emma reported tiredly. "One other hostage also confirmed, a student at the school. Both hostages are under threat. You are to lay down your weapons and give yourselves up immediately. That is an order. Do you understand?" Please understand.
"Papa Charlie here," replied Rod Clements. "Surrender? Really?"
"Confirmed, Papa Charlie," Emma said firmly. "I meant what I said." She didn't let any of her elation show on her face. Yes. They got it.
"That's good enough," Jack told her. "Now, drop the radio. You too, Aerodyne. Don't want you saying anything untoward." He gestured with the knife toward Taylor; Emma dropped the radio, hoping that it wouldn't break, but not overly worried. We can get more. Beside her, Madison did the same. Emma noted that the petite brunette was doing a great job of keeping her worry under control and letting her do all the talking, which was exactly what she needed to do.
"Can I dose them now, Mr Jack?" asked Bonesaw excitedly. "And don't forget, you said I could take my pick." Emma stole a glance at her; the blonde's eyes were glittering with excitement.
"Certainly, poppet," Jack said magnanimously. "You two, hold still. If I see a hair tendril or feel a gust of air out of place, your friend over there will be steak tartare before you can blink." He sounded almost offensively smug.
Emma didn't blame him, but then, he didn't have all the facts in hand. On the other hand, 'dosing' them sounded ominous. Taylor's lost her powers. Whatever it is, it'll probably do the same to us. Hopefully, Amy should be able to fix it. She had to believe it.
At some unseen signal, two of the spider-bots scuttled up to Emma and Madison. Emma did her best not to react in disgust as one of them scaled her body, its metal claws latching on to her costume. She wanted badly to seize it with her hair and immolate the thing, but the twofold threat to Taylor was too great. It reached her face and a small hatch opened; a moment later, it spewed a grey powder directly at her mouth and nose. Instinctively, she held her breath.
"Mr Jack, they're not breathing it," complained Bonesaw. "Make them breathe it." She sounded like a petulant child whose friends weren't playing fair with her. Emma wanted to make her light up like the Fourth of July.
"Last warning," Jack said, his knife moving in Taylor's direction again.
I really am getting sick of the way he keeps using her for leverage. Emma grimaced, then opened her mouth and inhaled. The grey powder tasted liked … well, like dust. She coughed, once. A moment later, she realised that her tendrils had all retracted to her normal hair length. Fuck. I really hope that Amy can fix this shit.
The spider-bots scuttled down and away; unpowered and helpless, Emma stood before Jack Slash. "What now?" she asked.
"Now …" he began.
Before he could get farther than that, he was interrupted by a high-pitched voice. "Hey!"
All three villains looked around; at the far end of the corridor stood a diminutive figure in teal and green. She waved, then held up something in her hand. "Guess what?"
Jack began to turn away from Emma, his knife coming up. Emma took one long stride forward, her hand darting into her pocket; it came out with an extendible baton. Snapping it out, she brought it down on Jack's wrist. Bone popped, the knife dropped from that hand, and Jack Slash let out a cry at the unexpected pain.
Fire sparked from the lighter in Vista's hand; space warped, and the lighter flame leaped up and bathed a fire detector. A second later, it began spraying water, as did all the other sprinkler heads down the hallway. Emma was soaked to the bone in an instant, but she didn't care. Jack Slash turned toward her, his careless facade gone. It had been replaced in an instant by Slash's true face, that of the unrepentant mass murderer.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emma saw Taylor slam Burnscar against the wall. The tall brunette then brought her head back hard against the pyrokinetic's face. Blood running from her nose, Burnscar tried to generate flame in one hand, but it was defeated by the downpour before it even began. Taylor was taller than the woman holding her, and didn't know the meaning of 'quit'; she slammed Burnscar against the wall again. This time, the grip on her arms loosened, and she pulled free.
"Bitch!" Jack Slash brought his knife up, but all he cut was Emma's coat. She felt the pressure of his projected blade on her stomach, but the costume that Taylor had woven for her was proof against the knife edge. And then she brought the baton back up, intending to take him under the jaw, but he was too quick. He stepped back, waving the knife in a figure-eight; only her arm, interposed at the last moment, saved her from a slash across the face.
With an ugly grin, he half-turned toward where Taylor was still struggling with Burnscar. His injured arm was raised to defend himself, and Emma knew that he could attack Taylor before she could disable him …
"Down!" bellowed her father's voice. She obeyed instantly, dropping to the floor. Shotguns thundered from behind her; Jack Slash staggered, dropping the knife. It bounced on the hard floor, unheard against the ringing in her ears. Danny stepped past her, his face set in pale lines. He fired as fast as he could rack the slide, the muzzle of his weapon barely four feet from Jack's chest. Jack went over backward, striking the floor hard.
Covering her ears with her hands, Emma turned her head to see what was going on. Across the corridor, Taylor was also crouched on the floor. Above her, a large bloodstain was even now being washed off the wall. Burnscar lay bonelessly on the floor, more blood spreading out from her prone body. Emma's father racked the slide and fired another shot, making absolutely certain that the villain would never get back up again.
Unwilling to see Burnscar's head sprayed across the wall, Emma switched her eyes forward, to where Jack Slash lay on the ground. One hand held his chest, while the other scrabbled feebly for his dropped knife. Danny Hebert put his booted foot on the villain's throat, then pressed the barrel of his shotgun to the man's left eye. Jack's other eye opened wide, and he opened his mouth to say something. Danny pulled the trigger. The blast didn't make Jack Slash's head disintegrate as Burnscar's had, reinforcing Emma's suspicion that Bonesaw had worked on him, but blood and brain matter spurted up from the ruined socket, to be washed away a moment later.
Dazed from the repeated gunshots in an enclosed space, Emma watched Danny safe his shotgun and sling it over his shoulder. Gradually, she sat up and looked around. Taylor was just getting to her feet, shaking her head in a way that Emma recognised. She was more or less deaf, too. Moving over to Emma, she offered a hand up; Emma accepted. Wiggling her little finger in her ear didn't accomplish much except getting the inside of her ear wet; the ringing in her ears continued unabated. For a mercy, the fire sprinklers shut down around that time, leaving puddles everywhere.
Bonesaw was down, but she hadn't been shot. Madison stood over her, with a hand outstretched toward the young mass murderer. If she squinted, Emma could see the vague outline of one of Madison's air fields. From the colour of Bonesaw's face, she thought she had an idea of what was going on. The little girl's lips were cherry red, a sign of carbon monoxide poisoning. Emma had no idea how long Madison had been asphyxiating the murderous little munchkin, but she had to give the girl props; to pull something like that off under Jack Slash's nose was impressive.
The four spider-bots around her were equally immobile, while the two that had been on Greg Veder were now in pieces on the floor beyond. Greg himself had his eyes closed; Emma couldn't be sure, but he seemed to be moving his lips in prayer behind his gag. Nor could she be certain that the damp patch spreading over Greg's crotch was all due to the water sprinklers. Mr Clements is a really good shot. Emma knew that he used slugs while the other two were using double-ought buckshot.
Danny lifted his radio and spoke into it. Emma turned to Taylor and made the hand-sign for You okay? Taylor signed back in the affirmative, and added a thumbs-up. Shortly thereafter, Athena and Panacea emerged from the same corridor, along with Vista. Athena looked at the girls, then pointed at Taylor and said something. Emma got her attention and signed, We're deaf. Athena grinned and replied Sorry, didn't get that. Emma gave her a hand signal that was not in their official repertoire; Athena laughed. Panacea went over to Taylor and held out a hand. Taylor tugged off a glove and gripped it. Moments later, they were done; Panacea signed to Emma, How about you? Emma already had a glove off; she held out her hand for Panacea to grab.
The first thing that came back was her hearing. The fire-alarm bell assaulted her ears, almost making her wish for deafness again. "How are your powers?" asked Panacea.
"Uh, I breathed in that powder and they went away," Emma told her with a frown. "Is that permanent?"
It was Panacea's turn to frown. "I was worried about that. Bonesaw must have created prions to screw with your powers. I can see the effects in your brain. Ladybug's, too."
"What about Aerodyne?" asked Emma worriedly. She turned to Madison. "You breathed them in, too."
Madison chuckled but didn't turn away from Bonesaw. "Yeah, but I breathed them straight back out. I control what goes into my lungs, not her."
"That's my girl," Rod Clements said warmly. He looked at Panacea. "So, the brain, huh?"
"Yeah, the brain." Panacea looked at the floor.
Emma knew what they were getting at. The brain was one thing Amy didn't tamper with. She turned to Panacea. "Whatever you choose, I'm good with it," she said. Almost to her surprise, she realised that it was the truth. It would be a hell of a jar to no longer be an active member of the Samaritans, but there was more than one way to help people. And if she had to go through it with anyone, she was kind of glad it was Taylor. They'd been best friends forever, after all.
"Me, too," Taylor added immediately. She bent down and picked up her helmet, then retrieved her cut-off hair. "No sense in leaving clues, after all." Carefully, she fitted the helmet back on her head, tucking her hair up under it. The strap had been cut, so she let that dangle free. It was good to have the goggles back in place over her eyes.
Rod Clements nodded in approval. "Now, what do we do with her?" He pointed at Bonesaw.
"I know what I'd like to do to her," said Danny darkly. He took the shotgun from his shoulder and flicked the safety off.
"We discussed this," Athena said firmly. "Too much chance that she's left a final fuck-you somewhere in her body."
Emma nodded. "I think the best idea is to clean her up, then see what we want to do then." She wanted to see the last member of the Nine dead as well, but she also knew that doing this wouldn't get her powers back. Catching Panacea's eye, she tilted her head. "You okay with this?"
Panacea glanced at Athena, who grinned and gave a slight shrug. She turned back to Emma. "Sure. Let's do this."
Stepping up to Bonesaw, Panacea reached in through the field and placed her hand on the girl's forehead. "Christ," she said. "She's full of fucking pathogens. And implants. How the hell did she even install half this stuff?"
"Fucking Tinkers?" hazarded Emma, making her father give her a sharp glance. She shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "Well, it's true."
He sighed. "I wish you weren't right."
"Wait a minute," said Rod Clements, gesturing at the still-bound Greg, whose eyes were now following them around. "Isn't anyone going to untie him?"
"No." Taylor's voice was firm. "That idiot hid in a closet when we evacuated the school. He nearly got me killed. He nearly got you guys killed. Let him stay tied up a bit longer."
"Well, at least maybe we should ungag him," Emma's father suggested.
Emma shook her head, recalling how Greg could blather on. "No, we really shouldn't. Let the PRT untie him."
"Screw the PRT," Danny decided. "Pretty sure that endangering others during a cape attack is a chargeable offence. We're getting the cops in on this." The look he shot at Greg made the boy flinch back. He stepped closer to the wide-eyed boy, hefting the shotgun. "And if you've got any thoughts about telling anyone, ever, about Ladybug's true identity, just remember what happened to the last guy who threatened her well-being." He racked the slide for emphasis. "Got me?"
Greg's eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped down in a faint. Emma's father nodded with approval. "Well done, Danny. I'm gonna have to remember how you said that, for when Emma starts dating."
"Dad!" protested Emma, but her heart wasn't in it. "You wouldn't threaten a boy with a shotgun, would you?"
"Figure he'd only have to do it once per boy," Rod Clements put in, then became all business. "Who wants to call the PRT and let them know it's all over?"
"I'll take care of that," Vista offered. "I'm the liaison, after all. Who wants to come with me and get Mannequin?" She pointed down the corridor.
"I'll do that," offered Emma. "My hair … oh. Crap."
Taylor grimaced. "Yeah. Crap. It's weird, not having bugs to call on."
"I've got an idea for dealing with that," Amy said without looking up from Bonesaw's prone body. "I'll see if it works when you get back."
Mannequin was still at the bottom of the steps where Vista had left him, his carapace rocking very slightly as he tried to move his vastly reduced arms and legs. As Emma looked down at him, she tried hard not to smile, and failed. She put her foot on the carapace and pushed gently; he slid across the smooth floor with almost no effort. "Frictionless coating," she noted. "Looks like Athena was right again. I doubt the glue bugs would've done anything at all."
"Yeah," Taylor agreed. She gave him a shove as well; the carapace slid across the floor, stopping only when it struck the wall. "Huh. That's really frictionless."
Vista nodded. "Yeah, he slid all the way down the stairs when I did this to him."
Emma shared a glance with Taylor. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Taylor's eyes lit up behind her goggles. "If you're thinking toboggan, hell yes."
Vista looked from one to the other. "You can't be serious. Either of you."
"Come on, Vista." Emma's grin was contagious. "When was the last time you used a supervillain to go tobogganing on?"
"And it'll get him back there more quickly," Taylor pointed out. "So it's for a good cause."
Vista rolled her eyes behind her visor. "I can't believe I'm younger than you guys."
"So, is that a yes or a no?" Taylor sounded hopeful.
For a long moment, Vista stared at her sternly. Then the facade cracked and she grinned broadly. "Sure. But I get to steer."
A few moments later, Vista had elongated the carapace a little, and adjusted the outside shape so that it would be stable. She knelt up at the end that they had decided was the front, which was in fact where his 'head' was, hanging on to his arms in the absence of better handgrips. Behind her crouched Taylor, holding tightly to her waist.
"Ready?" asked Emma from her place behind the makeshift toboggan.
"Ready," chorused Vista and Taylor.
"Okay, here we go!" Emma took hold of the handles – extensions of what had been Mannequin's feet – that protruded from the 'rear' of the Mannequin carapace and started pushing it, harder and harder. It slid with barely any resistance at all; in seconds, she was running as fast as she could. When she figured she couldn't get it going any faster, she leaped forward, landing on her knees behind Taylor. Vista took over then, raising the floor in a gentle wave to keep them going as fast as she could.
"Wooohooo!" Taylor started whooping first, but Vista and Emma quickly joined in. Shrieking like banshees, clinging on for dear life as Vista negotiated the corridor turns, the three girls whipped through the school on perhaps the most unconventional mode of transport known to mankind.
Danny looked around, then stared as the three girls rocketed into view on … something that was white and shaped like a thick toboggan, shouting at the tops of their lungs. As they came near, it slowed a little and the girls tumbled off and lay on their backs, laughing hysterically. The thing they had been riding on continued on until it hit a wall and stopped. He stared at them, then at their conveyance.
His voice was plaintive. "Do I want to know, or am I going to regret asking?"
Emma sat up, still giggling madly. "Mannequin tobogganing. It's a once in a lifetime experience. How could we pass it up?"
"Oh, you didn't." Athena wandered over to look at what was going on. "Oh, man. You did. You really did. Holy shit, you turned Mannequin into a bobsled. Okay, that's … fuck. That's insane. I love it." She leaned against the wall and started giggling as well. "I love this team. This sort of shit never happened in the Undersiders."
"How long's he going to be helpless like that?" asked Alan practically. "We don't want him suddenly popping back into normal size again."
"No, true," agreed Vista, climbing to her feet. Tears of mirth were trickling down from her visor. "I can hold him indefinitely. Once the PRT gets here, we can just cut off his arms and legs. He's helpless then." She looked around. "Oh, you covered their faces. That's a lot better. Thanks."
Danny shrugged. "I didn't much want to keep looking at them, either." Jack Slash's shirt, cut and torn in two, had served to cover the faces of the dead villains. "How long till the PRT gets here?"
Vista shrugged. "Five minutes. The Director agreed to stay back, but not all that far." Her gaze went to where Panacea was still kneeling by Bonesaw. The blonde's lips were back to their normal colouring. "What's happened with her?"
"Yeah, that's the current problem." Athena put her arm over Vista's shoulders. "Panacea got rid of all the diseases, and sterilised everything that came out of her, but she says that Bonesaw's got mental issues all over the place, including a massive case of Stockholm Syndrome."
"Oh. Ew." Vista stared at the child villain. "So she wasn't always like this?"
Danny shook his head sombrely. "From what we can tell, Jack Slash kidnapped her and twisted her mind to act like he did. That Master effect we speculated on, remember?"
Vista frowned. "And Panacea doesn't do brains." Danny could see her mulling it over. While looking up all the resources they could use to train the girls, he and Alan had heard many horror stories of heroes being Mastered and forced to fight against their comrades. If Jack Slash could create such a Master effect over time, then Bonesaw was as much a victim as any of the people she'd killed and maimed. Worse, if the effect lasted after his death, there was no simple way of removing the mental problems that were forcing her into sociopathic behaviour.
"The trouble," Amy put in unexpectedly, "is that she's the ultimate surgeon. She could save as many lives as she's taken. If we just kill her, that goes away. Justice is done, but at a cost to the future. On the other hand, we could kill her here and now, with no danger to the public, and nobody would care." She looked at Danny. "The big question is, should we?"
Danny found his eyes drifting to the corpse of Jack Slash. The man had been a stone killer and an unrepentant monster. He had not been forced into villainy; from what Danny could tell, he had leaped feet first into it, and revelled in his excesses. Danny didn't regret killing him for one second; if he had to do it again, he would not hesitate.
But Jack Slash was not Bonesaw. One was a grown man; the other, a little girl. Younger than Taylor, even. One had chosen his path, while the other had been forced into it.
And yet, she was a monster. A murderer, hundreds of times over.
He could see no right path.
"That," he admitted, "is a … really good question."
End of Part Twenty-Seven