Finding the Way
Part 17: Conclusions
Just a Little Previously
Grue billowed darkness in a wide arc, then ran along between two train carriages and peered around the corner of one.
Something round and metallic bounced toward him. He jerked back, jumped up, clung to the side of the carriage. The grenade boomed hollowly in his darkness, shrapnel pinging off the rails beneath him.
Oni Lee, he thought. He must be just throwing blind into the darkness. He gritted his teeth. But with grenades … he doesn't have to get all that close.
And then he heard the bellow. "Where the fuck are you? You're dead, you little shits! Dead!" And then he heard the whoosh of flame being played across an area.
Fuck. Lung.
He got back to the others. Regent was hurt, a bullet wound in the hip, draped across one of Bitch's dogs. Bitch had taken a graze to the calf in the same engagement, but was toughing it out, riding astride the second dog. The third was hurt, a shattered leg. How it was keeping up with the other two, Brian had no idea.
We can't run, we can't hide and we can't fight,he thought desperately.
I have to call for help.
Lisa lounged in her quarters in the Wards' area of the PRT base, casually toying with her Protectorate comm. She was loving this. Out of the Undersiders, out from under Coil's thumb. Coil had gone down, hard. She had truly enjoyed watching that bit.
She had enjoyed it even more when he had successfully escaped, only to find that his every move was matched by someone who could locate him, no matter what disguise he donned, no matter what precautions he took. Eventually, disgusted, Director Piggot had put a kill order on his head. One frag grenade in the right place had done the job.
Being a superhero was a new and interesting career for her. She wasn't a combat cape, so she got to stay back and propose strategies. It was fun being on the side where they didn't try to arrest you all the time. Of course, Director Piggot had implemented a no-contact rule with regards to the Undersiders, but Lisa had managed to sneak her old phone in anyway. They had her number; they could call if they needed her.
Her phone went off.
She answered it; it's Brian, she knew.
"Hi, Brian," she said cheerfully, and knew immediately that there was something very, very wrong.
"Lisa!" gasped Brian. He had opened up some of his darkness so that the signal would get through. "You've got to help us."
"Christ, Brian, what – you've got the ABB on your ass. When – oh, shit. I left you and took down Coil. That's what this is about, isn't it?"
"Yeah," said Brian. That was the good thing about Lisa; you never had to worry about explaining things to her. She usually gave you the details. "Regent's hurt; he needs medical care. Bitch is wounded too, but not as bad. I'm good. Can you get any Protectorate help to us, ASAP?"
"I'll do what I can," said Lisa grimly.
Up till now, Lisa had been idly studying her Protectorate issue comm. Now she pressed several buttons, in a sequence that she had certainly never been taught.
This opened a new mode in the comm, one that she was not authorised to use. However, since she had just entered Piggot's authority code, it decided that she was.
Rapidly, she typed in a message, then hit the SEND button.
Leaping off her bunk, she left her quarters at a dead sprint.
Now
Hannah rolled off the bed, swearing in her mother tongue. She went to grab her clothes. "Don't bother," said Danny. He took her hand and teleported them both to her quarters. Then he disappeared again. Seconds later, her discarded clothes appeared on her bunk in a puff of smoke.
"You've got to be kidding," groaned Chris.
Purple-brown smoke puffed, and Taylor's costume appeared on the bunk. Thanks, Dad. She grabbed it and stood up. "Turn your back," she demanded.
"Fine," he sighed and got up from the bunk. Very ostentatiously, he turned his back, even as she wriggled out of the dress. Halfway through donning her costume, she stopped and looked at him. "Let's deal with whatever this is, then get back to us later."
"Yeah, you're right." Morosely, he started donning his armour sections.
Taylor had just strapped her helmet into place when Danny, in full Pathfinder garb, appeared in the room. He picked up her discarded dress and shoes, and they vanished in a puff of smoke. Then he grabbed her hand. "Let's go," he said. He nodded to Chris. "We'll see you there."
The comms bore a pager message to meet in the main conference room. Taylor and Danny had both been there before; they appeared in the middle of an empty room.
And then the door banged open, and Insight – Lisa – burst through.
"What's the situation?" asked Pathfinder immediately.
"Grue just contacted me," Insight said tersely. "The ABB has gone after the Undersiders. Lung has them cornered in the Trainyards."
"Oh, no," said Taylor. She focused on the Undersiders as she knew them. Insight was in this room. Grue ... was running, spreading darkness. Bitch ... was making her dogs grow, shouting commands to them. Regent ... was hurt, slumped over the back of a dog.
She focused on Lung. He was immense. Twice as tall as a man, clad in shining metal scales, a metal-encased tail lashing behind him, breathing fire. Clasping Danny's hand, she focused on the bigger picture, where they were in relation to one another.
It seemed that the Undersiders were trying to break contact, but Lung and his men were pressing them too hard. And there was the other ...
She focused on Lung's known cape minion, Oni Lee.
Teleporting around the Trainyards, throwing grenades, keeping the Undersiders off balance.
"Dad!" she said urgently. "We have to go, now!"
"Wait –" began Insight, but they were already gone.
Miss Militia was heading for the conference room at a dead run. Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared before her in the corridor. She slowed to a stop; Pathfinder grabbed her by the arm. They went again.
The Trainyards, already a mess after years of neglect, were a maelstrom of destroyed rail carriages, twisted rails, and broken ground. Miss Militia slipped off into the shadows, a long-barrelled rifle in her hands. The ABB had interrupted her in the middle of a very special moment. Someone was going to die.
Darkness billowed; Grue came sidling out from between two carriages. Taylor grabbed his arm; he spun around, fist cocked, then paused as he saw who it was.
"Lisa sent us," she told him, her voice hollow in his darkness. "We're here to help."
He nodded. "Can you get me back to the others?"
Taylor focused on the location of the other Undersiders, and Pathfinder took them there.
It was bad.
Bitch's dogs were backed up into a small enclosure between several carriages; they were injured, limping, burned. Regent was sprawled across one, face grey, hanging on for dear life. Bitch was hanging on to another, blood running down her leg.
Lung loomed in the gap between two of the carriages. The dogs snarled, defiant to the end. The metal-clad cape inhaled deeply –
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared between the dogs. Grue slapped one. Compass Rose slapped another. And Pathfinder slapped the third.
A ravening blast of fire roared through the cloud of purple-brown smoke, and killed nothing except the train carriage behind them.
They appeared on the street outside the Undersiders' base; it was ruined, shattered, but at least there were no hostiles waiting for them.
Bitch looked around, startled and hostile. The dogs turned, snarling.
"Hey, they saved us!" shouted Grue.
Bitch snapped a command; the dogs quieted.
"What now?" asked Grue.
"Take care of your wounded," said Pathfinder. "We'll be back."
Taylor looked at him; he looked back, nodded. We have to finish this.
Purple smoke puffed in his hand, and he handed her the small pistol she had used before. He didn't bother with one for himself.
They went again.
Miss Militia had found herself an eyrie, and was sniping ABB thugs as fast as they showed themselves. However, Oni Lee had also spotted her.
He appeared behind her; she turned fast, a Glock in her hand, already firing. He dropped a grenade, puffed to ash. She stared at the grenade.
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared in their trademark billow of smoke, grabbed her, vanished again. The grenade went off.
"Oni Lee," said Pathfinder.
"Oni Lee," agreed Compass Rose.
His location flickered, but she found she could keep up with it. She started feeding data to Danny. They disappeared, reappeared. Oni Lee was just crumbling to ash. Teleported again. She snapped a shot. Again. She fired another shot.
On the seventh attempt, when he teleported, the wound stayed with him.
They pursued the increasingly-panicked Oni Lee around the Trainyards, until he made the mistake of trying to ambush them. He appeared right behind them; she pointed the gun backward without even looking, and shot him in the face.
He fell, and did not disappear, did not crumble to ash.
Lung searched for the Undersiders, tearing train carriages aside like cardboard boxes. He roared his frustration to the skies.
They appeared on top of a miraculously undamaged carriage, not far away.
"Lung!" shouted Pathfinder. "Stand down! Last chance!"
He roared, spread metal wings, launched toward them.
They puffed to nothingness.
He shredded the carriage anyway.
A locomotive landed on him; two hundred and fifty tonnes of shaped steel. The impact smashed him down, drove him waist-deep into the ground.
He heaved up from under it. "This won't hurt me!" he roared. "Nothing will hurt me! I'm LUNG, motherfuckers!"
"That wasn't meant to hurt you!" called Pathfinder. "Just to keep you in one place, just long enough!" They vanished.
Lung cursed, swore, raged. He tore a the wreckage pinning him down. Threw aside the last part of the locomotive.
"Fuck you!" he roared. "I'll find you! I'll ..."
He looked up.
"Oh fuck."
The freighter Warden Point was rated at fifty thousand dead weight tonnes; it had not been fully loaded for decades, and for the last ten years had slowly been sinking at its moorings in the Boat Graveyard. Its canted deck was now only five feet above the water on one side, and fifteen on the other.
From across the Boat Graveyard, two figures appeared, first on the deck of one ship, then on another. They skipped across the intervening distances so fast that there were three or four puffs of purple-brown smoke marking their path.
There were no words, barely any thought processes. Taylor was multitasking at an extreme rate, taking in the sizes and relative structural strengths of each of the ships she could see, all at once. No ... no ... no ...no.
They landed on the deck of the Warden Point.
Yes.
The Warden Point had no working engines; these, and the relevant controls, had been salvaged and/or scavenged years ago. It had been thought she would never move again.
She moved.
A massive billow of purple-brown smoke, and she was gone.
With a tremendous crashing and banging of disturbed ship hulls, over fifty thousand tonnes of water rushed in to fill the gap.
A tremendous billow of purple-brown smoke filled the sky.
The Warden Point fell out of it.
Lung had no idea what it was, save that it was immense, and that it was falling toward him.
He tried desperately to get out of the way, spread his wings to fly.
He didn't make it.
It landed on him.
The rusted metal burst; stagnant seawater spread everywhere. Lung's fire was extinguished, his metal-covered body crushed into the ground. The sheer force was more than he could withstand.
Transports whined through the air, came in for a landing. Director Piggot got out, stomped up to Pathfinder, went to shake a finger in his face, then turned.
"What," she asked faintly, "is a ship doing in the Trainyards?"
"Lung's under it," Pathfinder said, as if that explained everything.
Piggot paused. "... right," she said. "Is he still alive?"
Compass Rose nodded. "Yes," she said, "but I think he might be drowning."
Pathfinder nodded; he and Compass Rose disappeared, reappeared on the buckled deck of the Warden Point. And then it disappeared again.
It reappeared in the air two dozen feet above its old mooring point. The inrush of water had drawn several hulls into that space. Taylor was fully aware of that, but she had nowhere else to put the ship. They disappeared again.
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and they reappeared beside Director Piggot. "Down there," Compass Rose said, pointing.
There was a very distant sound, like an explosion. Or like the damaged hull of a ship had just fallen into the water on top of other ships.
PRT troops advanced. Shortly, they returned, dragging the very unconscious body of Lung, now back to his normal human form.
"Oni Lee?" asked Director Piggot.
Compass Rose shrugged slightly. "He was ... too much of a danger." She pointed. "He's over there somewhere."
"And Miss Militia?"
Compass Rose pointed. "Over there. Rounding up the last of the ABB survivors."
Director Piggot nodded. "Well, I have to admit it. You two have done it again."
"And Insight," said Compass Rose. "Don't forget Insight."
"I wish I could forget that girl," sighed the Director. "She's invaluable, and she knows it, so she's also about the most irritating ..."
"Where is she, anyway?" asked Pathfinder. "I'm surprised she isn't here."
Compass Rose blinked. "Ah," she said.
"Ah?" asked Director Piggot.
The PRT transport came in for an unconventional landing near the group of Undersiders; Grue was doing his best to keep pressure on Regent's hip wound, but he didn't like the rate at which his teammate was losing blood.
Bitch, despite her leg wound, was on her feet, her dogs growling at the new arrival.
And then an unfamiliar figure swung down from the cockpit. "Guys!" she called, the voice very familiar. "Come on! Let's go!"
"Where to?" asked Grue warily.
"The PRT, of course!" she called back. "Come on! I only borrowed this for a little while, so I need to have it back before they realise it's gone!"
Grue felt a grin spreading across his face, under his mask. "You stole it?" he asked disbelievingly.
"Stole, borrowed, whatever," Lisa retorted, moving forward to help with Regent.
"We'll be right back," said Compass Rose. She squeezed Pathfinder's hand. "Let's go."
They went.
Director Piggot opened her mouth to ask where they were going, but found herself looking at a puff of purple-brown smoke.
She sighed. At least they get results.
Then she looked at the devastation in the Trainyards.
Dropped a ship on him. Holy Christ.
Brian and Lisa were halfway to the transport with Alec when Compass Rose and Pathfinder appeared nearby.
"You're almost out of time," said Compass Rose. "We need to get this thing, and you, back to the PRT as soon as possible, before Director Piggot starts asking questions."
Lisa's face lit up. "Oh, thank you," she grinned. She looked at the two of them. "Lung's down?"
Pathfinder nodded, took Grue's arm. Smoke billowed; they reappeared inside the transport. Grue helped Regent on to a bench. Bitch limped up; Compass Rose offered her hand to help her up. Bitch stared at her for a moment, then accepted the help. The dogs, none the worse for wear, leaped up as well.
Compass Rose and Pathfinder clasped hands; the transport puffed into purple-brown smoke, reappeared in the PRT transport bay.
From there, they went directly to the infirmary. Fortunately, the infirmary staff had been warned to expect casualties. They just weren't expecting supervillains.
The presence of Compass Rose and Pathfinder smoothed things down a lot, and Regent and Bitch were soon undergoing treatment.
Danny drew Taylor aside, and said quietly, "Why didn't we just take them to Panacea?"
Taylor grinned. "She's uh ... busy."
Her link with him filled in the gaps. His eyebrows raised. "Well," he said. "Well, well, well."
Director Piggot stomped into the infirmary, her expression thunderous. "Can someone please explain to me why three supervillains are getting priority treatment in the PRT sickbay?" she demanded.
"Because they're joining the Protectorate," declared Insight.
Four sets of eyes swung to lock on her.
"What?' demanded Piggot.
"Fucking what?" echoed Grue, with rather more emphasis.
"You're shitting me!" chimed in Regent, from where medics were working on his hip.
Bitch didn't even bother talking.
"It's like this," said Insight. "Three of you. That's barely a superteam at all. More of a duo with a plus one. The ABB hit you hard, nearly killed you. Who's going to hit you next? Empire Eighty-Eight? Your best bet is to join the biggest, baddest team on the block. And that's right here, in the Protectorate building."
She turned to the seething Director. "Grue knows his stuff. So does Regent. And Bitch is amazing with dogs. Tell me you can't make use of them." She grinned her vulpine grin. "Go on, tell me you haven't done exactly this before now anyway."
Piggot shook her head. "Christ." She turned and stomped away. "We'll talk about this later," she said.
Lisa turned to the others with a beaming smile. "If you accept ... you're in," she said.
And while there was much heated argument, no-one actually said no, then or later.
"So there's no-one home?" asked Vicky as they glided in for a landing.
"Nope," grinned Amy. "I asked Dad what they'd be doing. They're going to a show. It doesn't finish till nearly eleven."
"That sounds interesting," said Vicky.
Amy nodded. "It does."
Vicky unlocked the door and they went inside. Amy closed the door, and then turned to her sister. "Thank you for a wonderful date," she said, and took Vicky in her arms. Vicky embraced her, and their lips met.
When they broke apart, Amy smiled. "I'll meet you upstairs," she said softly.
Vicky rarely flew inside the house. As she disappeared up the stairs, Amy fancied she heard a small sonic boom.
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and Pathfinder and Miss Militia reappeared in the bedroom of Danny's house.
"If anything else happens tonight ..." he breathed.
A large pistol was in her hand. "I will shoot it right in the head," she promised. The gun became a small knife, in a wrist sheath.
They were soon back on the bed.
Sitting on her bed Vicky looked up as Amy entered. "Now," she said. "Where were we?"
Amy sat down beside Vicky and ran her hand through her sister's hair. "Right about here," she murmured, pulling Vicky in for a kiss.
Compass Rose and Kid Win stood in his quarters, facing each other. She removed her helmet; he did the same with his. She leaned in and kissed him, standing on tiptoe.
"Can we ..." he said tentatively, " ... keep doing what we were just doing before?"
She smiled, and sat demurely on the bed.
He gulped, and sat down beside her.
Vicky stared up at Amy as their lips pulled apart gently. Fully dressed, they lay side by side on the bed, though Amy was up on her elbow. Her foot slid up and down Vicky's calf gently, teasingly.
"Oh ... my ... god," the blonde whispered. "This just keeps getting better."
Amy kissed her again. "I know," she breathed in reply.
Amy suddenly found herself pinned to the bed. She stared up at Vicky, eyes wide.
"Oh," she exclaimed. "What are you going to do with me?"
Vicky kissed her hard, leaving her breathless.
"Everything," she promised.
Amy's eyes glowed. "Oh," she replied softly. "Yes, please."
Danny and Hannah lay together afterward, holding one another, kissing gently.
"Thank you, Danny," murmured Hannah. She kissed him. "I am so very happy right now."
He kissed her back. "So am I," he agreed. "So am I."
Taylor kissed Chris as she ran her hand through his hair.
"Oh god ..." he murmured, holding her tight. She had to leave soon, but this night had been amazing.
Victoria lay with Amy in her arms, half asleep. She stared up at the shadowed ceiling of the bedroom.
She had originally agreed to date Amy from a sense of charity, to make her sister happy. It had gone far, far beyond that. What she had with Amy now was special. Tonight had proven that beyond a doubt.
Sorry, Dean, she thought as she eased into sleep. You lose.
End of Part 17
