Finding the Way


Part 12: Trolling


"Hurry up, Dad!" called out Taylor. "Our TV spot's coming up soon!"

She sat back on the sofa, wearing her full costume, helmet off, just to get used to it.

A billow of smoke heralded her father's appearance, and he sat beside her on the sofa. He also wore his costume. She grinned at the image they represented; two superheroes, watching TV in full costume.

As the TV spot began, she fiddled with the new smartphone she had been issued; among other functions, it allowed her to go online. Danny had a similar one, but he wasn't as enthralled with his as she was with hers.

During the course of the TV spot, her official Wards email address was put up, along with the one for Pathfinder.

And then her phone pinged. You have one (1) new email message, it said.

"Hey, Dad," she said with a grin. "Check it out. My first fan mail.". She tapped the envelope icon, and the message opened up.

Hey, mall girl, she read. Still thinking about killing yourself? Have a nice day. R.

She went cold all over. Danny's head whipped around as he felt the jolt of shock that surged through her body. He saw her staring at the phone; it puffed into smoke and appeared in his hand. His jaw clenched as he read it.

"Fuck," he grated. "Do you know who sent this?"

"No - yes," she amended her statement. "That girl in the mall on Christmas Eve. She must have somehow figured out who we were.". She concentrated on the memory, a freckled face, dirty blonde hair in a fancy braid, a knowing, vulpine smile. It unfolded into a face, an image, a location.

I know that face. I know that location.

She had found her first by sheer fluke; looking up missing persons, she had located one Sarah Livsey, wearing a strange purple and black costume. Looking through the Parahumans Online boards, she had picked out Tattletale, of the Undersiders. The names and costumes of the other Undersiders had given her more hits, until she had solid locks on each of them, and a strong possibility for a base location.

Why is she messing with me now? And why 'R'? Unless it's to throw me off.

Ten seconds later, her helmet on, she faced her father. He teleported them both out of there.


There was a burst of purple-brown smoke, and the Heberts, in full costume, appeared in Director Piggot's office. She looked up with barely a start of surprise.

"If I recall correctly, you're off duty tonight," she said with just a touch of asperity.

"This is serious," said Danny, in what he was coming to think of as his 'Pathfinder voice', slower paced, and with more accent on the strong consonants. He handed over Taylor's phone.

Piggot read the message, glanced over to where the TV spot was still playing on the small screen on her desk, and then back to Taylor. "Fast work," she commented. "Do you have a line on a suspect?"

Taylor nodded tightly. "I think it's the Undersiders. I met Tattletale once before, and she knows about me and Dad."

"I see," said the Director, not bothering to ask for details. Those could come later. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"Throw a scare into them," said Danny promptly. "Can we borrow half a dozen men who can be trusted to be discreet?"

Piggot smiled thinly. "Oh, I think we can manage that.". She keyed her desk comm. "Sergeant Morris! You and five men who can keep their mouths shut, to the armoury, on the double!". She got up from behind her desk and walked carefully around it to stand in front of them. "I'll take you up on that offer of a lift, now," she said.

Taylor concentrated on the name 'Sergeant Morris'. There was only one person who went by that specific designation in the Brockton Bay PRT tower, and he appeared in her mind's eye, unfolded into a mental image, standing at attention in front of a door with five other blurry images; people, she knew. Ones she had not met yet.


Morris blinked as the sudden billow of purple-brown smoke gave way to three figures; the Director and two capes, whom he vaguely recognised as the two new intakes; they'd just been watching the TV spot on them.

"Director Piggot, ma'am!" he snapped, saluting. The other men did likewise.

"At ease," she responded, returning the salute. "This is Pathfinder, and that's Compass Rose. They have my highest confidence. They have a mission for you. You will draw rifles, one magazine each. You will follow their orders in the field. You will follow their lead. You are not to fire unless fired upon. Are there any questions?"

"Ah, yes, ma'am," said Morris promptly. "What is the aim of this mission?"

"The Undersiders have pulled our tail, Sergeant," she told him. "Compass Rose and Pathfinder wish to explain to them why they should never do that again. Your job is to make sure they listen to reason."

He nodded once. "Roger that, ma'am."

The tall cape, Pathfinder, cleared his throat. "Sergeant, I have one question. What's military speak for 'don't do anything stupid'?"

Morris smiled slightly. "That would be 'stand down', sir."

Pathfinder nodded. "Ah. Thank you, Sergeant."

Piggot broke in, even as the men were taking rifles from the racks. "Also, one sidearm each for the capes, I believe. Just in case."

Morris nodded. With a practised eye, he picked out two pistols in clip-on holsters; a standard sized automatic for Pathfinder and a smaller pistol for Compass Rose.

"These are both Glocks," he told them briefly. "No external safety catch. Point and shoot. Pull back the slide to chamber the first round.". He gave them a severe glare. "These are not toys. Wave them around like you're playing cowboys and indians, and I will take them off you."

They nodded obediently. He turned to Piggot and saluted. "Ready to go, ma'am."

She nodded. "Go."


They teleported into the Undersiders' base. The Undersiders were frantically packing up gear.

Danny couldn't resist. "Hi. We'd like a word with you."

The looks on their faces were priceless.


Afterward, once the weapons had been handed back in - Danny had not even had to pull his from the holster - they sat in Director Piggot's office.

"So, do you think they'll be good?" asked the Director. "Or should we think about pulling them in?"

Danny shook his head. "No, I think they got the message.". He frowned. "They were just kids."

"Kids," Director Piggot reminded him, "with two murder charges to their name."

Taylor looked pensive. "Maybe I should have made an offer for them to join the Wards," she mused.

It was Piggot's turn to shake her head. "After you essentially kicked in their door and pointed guns in their faces? Either their pride would demand they say no, or they'd see it as an 'or else' threat, and resent it. No, it wasn't the right time or place."

Taylor nodded. "I guess you're right.". She stood up; Danny followed suit. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow then."

Director Piggot nodded. "Good night to you.". She watched them clasp hands before the billow of smoke engulfed them, and they were gone.


Danny was cooking breakfast the next morning when Taylor came padding down the stairs in her running gear and socks.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he grinned as he leaned out of the kitchen. "You were really spark out this morning, so I decided to let you lie in a bit."

"Thanks heaps, Dad," she retorted. "I'm gonna go for my run now. Drop me off at school after breakfast?"

"Sure," he said. The insurance was still coming back for the truck, and it was still undriveable, but he wasn't worried much about that at the moment.

She came over for a hug, then headed out for her run.


Arriving back from her run in good time to get her breakfast, she enjoyed a nice companionable chat with her father before it was time to go to school.

These days, school was … different. She didn't know whether it was the way she carried herself and looked at the world, or if it was the way word had gotten around. A little of column A, and a little of column B, she expected.

She had been locked into a locker filled with the most vile trash that could be acquired in or around the school; and yet, here she was, walking around as if nothing had happened. More, she was walking tall while Sophia was gone altogether and Emma and Madison were looking very hangdog indeed. It was enough to make people wonder.

Thanks, Dad, she thought. Another one I owe you for.

Part of her new self-assurance came from her powers and her status as a Ward, she knew. But the larger part of it was from being with her father, of having him in her life, there to back her up if and when she needed it.


She went to her locker, opened it. It was spotless; even the damaged lock had been replaced. Emma and Madison were standing at their lockers, looking over at her. She grinned, reached into her bag, and pulled out the flute. Putting it to her lips, she played a few bars – about all she could play, to be honest – and smiled at them, at the disbelief on their faces.

Armsmaster really did fix it properly, she thought. Carefully, she placed it on the shelf in her locker, placed her bag on the floor, pulled out her books, and closed her locker.

With a smile on her face and a song in her heart, she walked straight past them and on to her first class.


She was sitting in Computer Studies class, with one window logged into the Parahumans Online board, reading the chatter about herself and Pathfinder. The speculation had been intense; some had them as brother and sister, others as husband and wife. Some did advance the opinion that they were father and daughter. But the general opinion was that they were simply two people who had teamed up and chosen to wear similar costumes.

The one guy who had posted a fairly inarticulate screed about how they were obviously father and daughter, and probably having an incestuous relationship, had been slammed so hard she was mildly surprised there wasn't a splatter of blood in the middle of his post. So many people had flamed him for even thinking such a thing that he had logged off shortly thereafter. There was even a discreet notification from the moderators to show that his account had been suspended for inappropriate content.

Seriously? she thought. I love Dad, but not in that way. Get a grip.

And then, over her email address, the site popped up a message for her.


R says sorry. Can we talk?

Tt.


Intrigued, she typed a message back.


Apology accepted. About what?

CR


She focused her attention, and saw Tattletale, wearing ordinary clothes, typing at a computer in the library, of all places. Why use that, when she has internet at home?

The next message popped up.


Stuff. Really. Need to talk f2f. Pls?

Tt.


Taylor blinked. She really wants to talk.


Saturday. Boardwalk. We'll find you.


She paused before hitting Send.


We'll bring one other. No tricks.

CR


The message popped up almost immediately.


See you there.

Tt.


She closed the page and leaned back, staring at her computer. Now what's that all about?


End of Part 12