Finding the Way


Part 11: A Death and a Lesson


The phone rang insistently at six the next morning; Danny finally clawed his way out of a deep sleep to hear it shrilling in the kitchen. Teleporting to the kitchen, he picked up the phone.

I'm going to have to get a cordless, he decided.

"Hebert household, Danny speaking," he mumbled.

"Pathfinder," said Director Piggot, on the other end of the phone. "We need you and Compass Rose, immediately. Is she able to work?"

"Uh, Director Piggot?" he asked stupidly.

"Are you and Compass Rose able to work?"she asked sharply. Upstairs, he felt Taylor's sleeping presence gain awareness, slipping into drowsiness and then to wakefulness.

"Uh, sure," he replied. "I guess...?". Upstairs, the warm presence that was Taylor got out of bed and padded to the bathroom.

"Good. I need you two in my office in ten minutes.". Without farther ado, she hung up.

Danny looked at the phone, just a little bemused, then hung it up as well.


Taylor looked up as her father rapped on the bathroom door. "The Director wants us on deck in ten minutes!" he called.

"Be right out!" she called back.


Amy Dallon kissed her sister on the cheek as she sat down to breakfast. "Morning, Vicky," she said cheerfully. "Morning, Mom. Morning, Dad."

Victoria Dallon swallowed toast before replying. "Morning, Ames.". Mark Dallon smiled and nodded a benign greeting from the head of the table, while Carol Dallon contented herself with a nod that could have meant anything.

Amy buttered a piece of toast, then glanced at Victoria. Her sister seemed to be less than her usual chirpy, morning-person self at the moment. "Something the matter, Vicky?"

Her sister shook her head and sighed. "No, it's just Dean. We had an argument last night."

"Well, tell you what," Amy said brightly. "Why don't we have a day out together on Saturday, just you and me? We'll shop on the Boardwalk, eat horribly fattening chocolate sundaes, maybe catch a movie, and you can tell me all about how horrible and insensitive Dean can be."

Victoria Dallon eyed her sister warily. I think she just roped me into that date/not date thing,she realised. "Well ..." she temporised.

Mark Dallon put down his newspaper and smiled. "I think that's a great idea," he said approvingly. "Amy, that's really nice of you to support your sister like that.". He raised a finger. "In fact, I'll give you each fifty dollars to spend on yourselves while you're out."

Amy smiled at Mark, while Vicky glanced at him, just a little surprised. "Uh, thanks, Dad," she said hesitantly. "I guess ... it's a date, then.". She could have bitten her tongue the moment the word escaped her lips, but it had been said and could not now be unsaid.

And a quick glance sideways at her sister's look of secret delight - no, she didn't miss that, did she? -showed her that she could not easily retract what she had said.

I could tell her that it's not actually a date, later, and she would accept that, but it would be mean to her, and it would feel like going back on my word.

An internal, resigned, sigh.

Well, I guess it's a date after all. If she's good, she gets her kiss.

Oh well, it could be worse. She could be a terrible kisser.

And look at how happy it's made her. I can't takethataway from her now.

She smiled at Amy. "Thanks, Ames. Saturday it is."

And strangely, she found herself rather looking forward to it.


Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in front of Director Piggot's desk approximately twenty seconds before the required time. Their costumes were immaculate, although her dark curly hair hung damply down her back, instead of being collected in a bun under her helmet. Piggot decided to let that go; it was a very minor thing, after all.

"We have Jack Slash's current location surrounded," she began without preamble. "The men on the ground are waiting on a go order, but we want to ensure that he's still on site, and ascertain the status of any hostages.". She handed a sheet of paper to Taylor. "These are the details we have on the occupants of that house."

Taylor looked it over, her free hand holding her father's. She absorbed the details, built a gestalt for each person. The parents were easy; the DMV had supplied driver's license photos. She had to take the most time on the written description of the young child.

Director Piggot watched Compass Rose scan the sheet. Behind the goggles, her eyes went momentarily unfocused, then she blinked once.

"He's still in the house. All three people on this paper are still alive, although the husband has several serious wounds, probably caused by Jack Slash, probably to keep the wife in line. He's been bandaged, but some of the bandages have been cut. He's lying on what looks like a sofa in the living room."

She took a deep breath. "The child is unharmed, just as the wife is, but I think Jack suspects something. He keeps looking out the windows. His wounds do not appear to be hampering him too badly."

She raised her head. "Right. Dad, when he goes into the back room …"

"The baby?" he asked her.

"If we grab her prematurely, it may alert him."

"If we don't, he may kill her out of spite."

Director Piggot spoke up unexpectedly. "Can you get men into the house?"

Danny nodded. "Easily."

Piggot called up a personnel file on the computer, spun the monitor around. "This is Commander Evans. He's in charge. He should be around the command post, out of sight of the house, of course. I'll send him your clearances."

Taylor nodded. "Got him." She squeezed her father's hand, and they vanished in a billow of smoke.


They appeared at the command post, just as Evans was putting down the radio comm unit. He wa a tall, spare man, in his late forties, but with that hard, fit body that never seems to age. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder, I presume?" he asked.

Danny nodded. "We need six men, armoured and armed. And I presume you have others covering the back door?"

Evans nodded, and spoke into his comm. "I do, but I doubt he'll come out that way."

Taylor worked to keep her face straight. "He might change his mind."

Evans looked at her a little dubiously. She held Danny's hand tightly, for reassurance; all of a sudden, she was a lot less sure of the plan.

The six men arrived, Danny arranged them, each with a hand on the next man's shoulder, guns up and ready. "Your target will be in front of you when you arrive," he said. "You are free to fire as soon as you see him."

They waited; Taylor had Danny shift them a little around to the right. They waited a little more. One of the men fidgeted; Evans snapped a command. The man stilled.

Taylor's head came up. "On three," she said. Everyone came to full alert.

"One. Two. Thr-"

They vanished in a puff of purple-brown smoke.


Jack Slash prowled through the house, his thoughts dark. They were out there, he knew. He could feel them. The woman would be no trouble, and the baby was extra insurance. But as moving hostages, difficult. Easier to slash their throats and make a run for it. Kill as many as he could before –

" – ee!"

The air shifted behind him; purple-brown smoke billowed out. Guns levelled out of it, pointed at him. He swung the knife, slashed, dived for the door. Shots slammed out. Some hit him. He hit the door, burst through it, rolled on the ground. More shots hit him. Too many. He tried to reach his knees, to swing the knife, but a large man in a PRT uniform stepped up and levelled an assault rifle. He reached for something defiant to say –


There was one final shot from outside. A burly sergeant appeared in the doorway. "It's safe to come out now. He's dead."

Neither Taylor nor Danny took him up on the offer.


Pathfinder and Compass Rose sat in front of Director Piggot's desk.

"You've done well for a first official outing." Her tone was approving. "All hostages saved, the bad guy dead." She paused. "Jack Slash dead."

Danny nodded. "So what happens next?" he asked.

Taylor's stomach rumbled. "Hopefully, involving food," she said. "We didn't get breakfast."

Director Piggot nodded. "Go get something to eat," she said. "Be back in an hour. We have the TV spot to shoot."

Danny and Taylor looked at each other.

"TV spot?" they asked simultaneously.

Piggot nodded again. "Just a ten-minute spot. It'll be on the news tonight. Miss Militia will introduce you as the two new members of the Wards and the Protectorate."

"Wow," said Taylor. "And so ... what will we need to say?"

Director Piggot inclined her head. "Not much. Just your names, and a little about your powers." She raised a finger. "Downplay them. Do not show off, like you did with Aegis. Bad guys watch the news too."

Taylor nodded. "Okay," she said. "I got it." She stood up from the chair. "Uh .. I meant to say earlier ... thanks for ... giving us this chance ..."

Director Piggot shook her head. "No thanks necessary," she said. "It was a unanimous decision." She waved a hand, a shooing motion. "Go. Eat. We do not want your stomach rumbling on national TV."

Danny grinned behind his mask, grasped Taylor's hand. "One hour?" he said.

"One hour," she confirmed.

Billowing smoke, and they were gone.


They were standing in the living room once more.

"Actually, Dad," said Taylor as she took her helmet off, "if you just stood there and teleported to the same location over and over, it might make a fair-sized cloud of smoke, or fog, or whatever that stuff is."

"Huh," said Danny, likewise removing his headgear. "I'll have to try that sometime. What would you like to eat?"

Taylor grinned, dropping her overcoat on the sofa. "I don't care. Just start serving it up."

They ate in companionable silence, sandwiches and fruit from the fridge. They didn't need anything fancy, and nor did they want it.


They got back to base three minutes ahead of schedule; this time, Taylor's hair was properly bundled up under her helmet. Piggot approved; the least amount of visual cues people got to identify them, the better.

"It's being shot at the TV news studio, downtown," she told them. "Miss Militia is on site."

Taylor nodded. "Okay, got it."

Danny looked at the Director. "Did you want to come along?" he asked. "I can have you back here after the shoot."

She shook her head regretfully. "I have far too much paperwork to deal with," she told him. "But I will take you up on that, sometime."


Miss Militia looked up as they arrived. "Ah," she said. "Good. You're here." She shook Danny's hand, and then Taylor's. "Good work with Jack Slash."

Danny shrugged. "The PRT did all the work; we just expedited."

She nodded. "It's called teamwork for a reason. Commander Evans had some very nice things to say in his report."

Taylor grinned. "He was a lot happier after it was over, I'll say that."

The older woman nodded again. "Good officers are always happy when their men come through without a scratch." She looked searchingly at them. "So how do you feel about your first major action?"

"I'm just happy no-one else got hurt," said Taylor promptly.

Danny nodded. "Something like that," he said, putting an arm around Taylor's shoulders.

"That can be a concern," said Miss Militia. "I'd like to sit down with the two of you sometime, and work out tactics and strategies to use with your powers."

Taylor grinned. "That could be really cool."

Danny nodded. "I think ... I would really like that."

"Good," said Miss Militia. She looked around. "Ah, they're calling us. Let's get you into position."


They were dabbing powder on to Taylor's nose and cheeks as a last-minute bid to deal with glare, and giving her instructions at the same time.

Basically, as far as she could see, they boiled down to 'wait till Miss Militia begins to introduce us, then teleport in'. But for some reason, they seemed to want to dress it up in a dozen different extra options, then dress it down into baby talk.

She wanted to snap, to tell them to leave her alone, that she had it. But she didn't, because this was her first TV spot, and she didn't want to make a bad impression. And then she felt Danny's hand resting gently on her shoulder, and it made all the difference.


"And allow me to introduce ..."

On th screen, Miss Militia gestured at an empty spot on the stage. A drumroll began to sound.

"What's going on?" asked Regent, wandering into the room.

"Shh!" said Tattletale. "A couple new capes are joining the Protectorate and the Wards. They're introducing them now."

The drumroll built to a crescendo, then just as it ended, there was a billow of purple-brown smoke at the spot indicated. As it dissipated, two figures could be seen standing there, a taller masculine figure with his hand on the shoulder of a shorter feminine figure.

"Damn," said Grue admiringly. "Nice entrance."

"Eh, I've seen better," said Regent disparagingly.

Bitch said nothing, barely even looking at the screen as she groomed her dogs.

The spot went on; the two capes seated themselves with Miss Militia, and were introduced as Pathfinder and Compass Rose.

"Sh!" said Tattletale suddenly. "Holy shit. It's her. It's them!"

Grue looked at her enquiringly. "Them who?"

Tattletale's eyes were glued to the screen. "The girl and her dad from the mall, you know, just before Christmas? The girl was thinking about suicide?"

Grue frowned. "I remember .. sort of."

Tattletale nodded. "Well, that's them."

"Holy shit," said Grue.

"God damn," muttered Regent. "And we know what they look like."

Tattletale got up to go to the kitchen; she was just coming back when she heard the rattle of keys from Regent's laptop.

"Oh shit," she said. "You didn't just ... fuck, what did you say to them?"

Regent chuckled; even Grue was grinning and shaking his head. "Just shaking their tree a bit, is all."

Tattletale leaned over and read the message Regent had sent to Compass Rose's email address.

Hey, mall girl.

Still thinking about killing yourself?

Have a nice day.

R

Her face drained white. "Fuck!" she gasped. "Everyone, up! Grab what shit you can carry! We've got to get the fuck out of here!"

Regent looked up at her. "Why?" he asked. "It's an anonymous account. No way they'll trace it."

"Weren't you listening?" she shouted at him. "She finds things. And that might mean people, too. Or the laptop you just sent that from." She pointed her finger at him. "And you just got her total and undivided attention."

Grue started to get up. "How long do we have?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Tattletale. "But we have to assume less than an hour."


Six an a half minutes later, there was a burst of purple-brown smoke that filled half the room. When it cleared, half a dozen PRT troops were standing there, training guns on all four members of the Undersiders. Two more guns were aimed at Bitch's dogs. Slightly behind and between the PRT men were the now-familiar forms of Pathfinder and Compass Rose.

Pathfinder was the first to speak.

"Hi. We'd like a word with you."


Grue shouted in alarm and darkness washed out from him, filling the room.

"Grue!" shouted Compass Rose. "I can see you! Stand down!"

He looked her way. She was holding a pistol, small enough to fit in her hand. It was an awkward, untrained grip, but the barrel was pointed dead-centre at him. He stepped to the side. The barrel shifted to follow him.

Oh. Crap.

"We're here to talk!" shouted Pathfinder. "No hostilities!"

"What about all the guns?"demanded Regent, out of the darkness.

"That's just to get your attention!" shouted Compass Rose. "Now stand down. I haven't shot you yet; I'm not about to, unless someone does something stupid!"

Gradually, reluctantly, Grue reduced his darkness until it roiled around his face and body.

"So talk," he said.


The rifles were held at port arms; none of the Undersiders were threatened by them, but the awareness that they could be was always there. Compass Rose had put her little pistol away, and now she and Pathfinder stood side by side, facing the four Undersiders.

"Who sent the mail?" asked Compass Rose quietly.

Regent didn't speak, but Tattletale nudged him. "Yeah, me," he said grudgingly.

She stepped forward to confront him. "That was a really fucking stupid thing to do," she said very softly. "That thing that you said? That was one step away from threatening to out us. And you just came out and said it."

Tattletale was staring at her. "Christ," she blurted. "The reason they're so hot to keep you two under wraps ... you're better than –"

Abruptly, Pathfinder was right in front of her, in the midst of a cloud of dissipating purple-brown smoke. "That sentence had better end right there," he said very firmly. She looked at his tinted goggles, his face-concealing mask, and thought better of continuing.

He spoke again, loud enough for each of the Undersiders to hear.

"You four kids know two things that the PRT wishes to keep well under wraps; that is, what our faces look like, and the full extent of our powers. This can go two ways. The first way is that we deliver you gift-wrapped to Director Piggot –"

"Yeah, right," sneered Regent.

Compass Rose had not shifted from her position in front of him. "You've already made one serious error of judgement tonight. Don't make it two."

Tattletale nodded urgently. "Regent. Shut the fuck up."

Compass Rose nodded approvingly. "As Pathfinder was saying, we can hand you over and you will just ... disappear. Or, we can do the other thing."

"Which is?" asked Grue warily.

"We leave," she said simply. "You go about your business. But you never, ever tell anyone about what you know. And we never, ever make it our business to make sure you are never seen again."

Regent snorted. "And tomorrow, or the next day, these guys come back with some buddies and kick in our door anyway."

Pathfinder didn't even look over that way. "Sergeant Morris!"

"Sir!"

"Do you have any idea of where you are right now?"

"Sir, no, sir! I'm from Miami, sir!"

"Are you going to be telling anybody anything about what's happened in this room, Morris?"

"Sir, I don't even believe we were in this room, sir!"

Pathfinder nodded. "And so."

Tattletale stared. "Christ," she whispered. "You've got that much pull with –"

He wagged a finger. She shut up.

"So," said Compass Rose. "We have an agreement?" She looked around at them. "Just remember. From here on in, no matter where you go, no matter what you look like, I can find you, and I will find you if I have to."

Grue nodded reluctantly. "Agreed."

Tattletale nodded as well. "Agreed."

Bitch glowered. "Fucking okay. I didn't even know –"

"Bitch!" hissed Grue.

"Fine. Agreed."

They looked at Regent. "Yeah, okay. Agreed."

Compass Rose took Pathfinder's hand. "And we agree to not tell anyone about this base." They stepped back to the PRT soldiers.

Pathfinder nodded to the Undersiders. "Be good. And if you can't be good –"

Compass Rose chimed in with " – don't get caught."

There was a billow of purple-brown smoke.

And then they were gone, the PRT soldiers with them.

Grue sagged limply down to the sofa again. Tattletale sat beside him.

"That was fucking scary," said Grue.

Tattletale nodded. "And it could have gone a lot worse."

"Were they really all that?" asked Regent.

Tattletale looked up at him. "Alec," she said softly. "They were holding back."

"Right," said Regent. "Okay. New resolution. Not pissing them off. Ever."

"Amen to fucking that," agreed Grue.

Bitch groomed her dogs. She had already decided on that course of action.

If they don't attack me ... I won't attack them.

In the face of a stronger foe, it was the only sensible course.


End of Part 11