Finding the Way
Part 19: Operation Dragon Drop
Bitch glowered at Armsmaster. "I don't need a fucking minder!" she snarled.
"And the PRT doesn't need someone who can't take orders!" he growled back. He took a breath; he was under specific orders to not start a fight with her. "I can either watch you, or you go directly into custody. There's no third option. Do you get that?"
She looked at him. He was bigger than her, stronger than her, and she didn't have any dogs with her. In addition, he had been very firmly put into authority over her.
And they were caring for her dogs. She had seen to that. Might as well find out what the fuck's going on.
She shook her head. "What the fuck is this all about, anyway? I didn't get half that shit back there. All that high-end double-talk bullshit. What's it come down to?"
He sighed. "Director Piggot thinks she's being smart," he explained. "You got rescued from Lung and the ABB, so she thinks you owe us. And she'd rather have capes working for us, under her thumb, than in jail."
She stared at him. "Well, why the fuck didn't they just say so?"
He shrugged. "They like to hear themselves talk?"
She surprised herself with a chuckle. "You got that fucking right. Talk, talk, fucking talk. Never say what they fucking mean."
He looked at her. "Well, with me, that's the least of your worries. If I say something to you, what it sounds like is what it means. I don't believe in needless talk."
She was silent for a moment. "Okay," she said. "What happens now?"
"Now," he said, "we go and get you processed in, and start talking about legal matters."
"Legal matters?" she asked. "What the fuck is this?"
"You've still got a murder charge hanging over you. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. So we're going to use our high-powered lawyers to use their legal double-talk bullshit to make it go away." He pointed at her. "You don't say a fucking word. I got this shit."
She shrugged her shoulders. "Fine," she agreed. "So long as I don't have to understand it."
Director Piggot closed the window on her screen and smiled with quiet satisfaction. That could have gone either way,she knew. But thankfully, their mutual social ineptitude provided a bonding point rather than a friction point.
She smiled with satisfaction. And Lung is down, the ABB scattered. A good day's work.
Slowly, she shook her head. Dropped a fucking ship on him. Christ almighty.
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and four people were standing in the Hebert living room.
Pathfinder and Compass Rose took their helmets off to become Danny and Taylor Hebert. As they did so, Brian and Aisha looked around with some interest.
"You're underage until June," said Danny, "so until then, I'll technically be your legal guardian." He nodded to Brian. "I'll be expecting you to keep your sister in line, though."
Aisha rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she said. "Like that's gonna happen."
"Hey!" snapped Brian. "They're good enough to take us in, you show them some respect, okay? Or have you forgotten what they pulled you out of?"
Aisha subsided, looking sulky. "I was just joking," she muttered.
Taylor broke the awkward silence that followed. "Come on," she said to Aisha. "I'll show you your room."
"I get my own room?" asked Aisha, startled out of her sulk.
"Sure," said Taylor. "Come on." She led the way upstairs, along the hallway, and opened the door. "It's our spare room," she explained. "It's no problem for you to stay here until you and Brian have a place of your own."
"Where's Brian gonna be sleeping?" asked Aisha.
"For Brian, we can unfold the sofa bed, downstairs," explained Taylor. "Not the most comfortable, but it's there, and it's handy."
"So wait," said Aisha. "You're making my big brother sleep on the couch?" She grinned. "This is too good."
Taylor shook her head and sighed. "You're getting way too much enjoyment out of this."
Aisha grinned and nodded. "Yup."
"Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" asked Brian, while Danny made coffee.
Danny nodded. ""If it wasn't, I wouldn't have asked. And Taylor's good with it too."
"Ah," said Brian. "Gotcha.". He paused. "You can read her that well?"
Danny nodded. "It's a power thing. I know how she's feeling, and where she is, and vice versa.". He started pouring the coffee.
"What, all the time?" asked Brian. "I don't know if I could stand to have someone in my head twenty-four-seven like that."
Danny shrugged. "It's normal to us, now. Taylor needs me, and I need her. It's that simple.". He handed Brian his coffee.
"Now," he said, "we'll be putting you on the sofa bed. Aisha will be going into the spare room. Any stuff you own you can put in with Aisha, or downstairs in the basement." He looked at Brian. "Any questions?"
"Just one," said Brian. "I'm a criminal. My sister's shoplifted more than once. How do you know you can trust us in your home? Not to steal stuff, I mean."
Danny grinned. "You do recall what our powers are, don't you?"
Brian looked enlightened. "Ah, of course. And Lisa said you were more powerful than they said on TV."
Danny nodded. "Just a little," he allowed. "Just a little."
Brian paused. "So ... the fact that Taylor can keep tabs on us, that's why you took us in?" he asked.
Danny shook his head. "No. The reason's a lot simpler than that."
He paused; Brian sent him a searching look. "Such as?" he asked.
"We've been where you are," said Danny bluntly. "Not exactly," he went on, as Brian opened his mouth, "but close enough. We were in a bad place - Taylor was in a bad place - and there wasn't much I could do to help her. Anyone we tried reaching out to either couldn't or wouldn't help us. We were just about holding things together, but I didn't know how long that would last. And then ... we got our powers. And that changed everything."
"Getting powers didn't change things enough for me," muttered Brian.
Danny nodded sympathetically. "I guess we were in the right place at the right time. My power alone is enough to make the Protectorate want me in their ranks. With Taylor added in, they were willing to bend way, wayy over backward in order to get us on side."
"I can see that," agreed Brian. "Is it true that you dropped a ship on Lung?"
Danny nodded. "Yeah," he said. "It was the biggest thing we could find that I could be sure of moving in a hurry."
Brian shook his head. "I don't know whether to be more impressed that you moved it, or that Lung survived it being dropped on him."
Danny chuckled. "There is that." He paused. "So yes, Taylor and I have been there, been where we desperately needed help and no-one would give it. You and Aisha are there now. So ... we're helping."
Brian nodded. "Well ... thanks," he said, and he didn't mean the coffee.
"Anytime," said Danny, and nor did he.
Just then, his smartphone rang.
Aisha bounced experimentally on the bed. "Cool," she said. "It doesn't even smell of piss or cigarette smoke. Or puke. Puke's the worst."
Taylor shook her head, trying not to smile at the way Aisha was trying to conceal her delight. "I've been there," she said. "But not to sleep in."
"Yeah?" asked Aisha. "What happened?"
So Taylor told the story of how she was shut in the locker, and how her father had come and got her out. Aisha was silent for most of the telling, her eyes growing wider and wider.
"Fuck," she said at the end. "Those bitches."
Taylor nodded. "They got away with it for more than two years; there was no reason for them to think they couldn't get away with it this time. Except ...". She paused. "You know Shadow Stalker?"
"Fuck yes," said Aisha. "She's been trying to off Brian since the first time they met."
Taylor nodded. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," she said. "She's one of the bitches, you see. So when I got my powers and figured that one out ..."
Aisha nodded. "Well, fuck," she said happily. "I'd love to have seen the look on her face when that came out." She paused. "So what happened to her?"
Taylor shrugged. "Apparently, she tried to make a run for it. Didn't get very far. So they threw the book at her. Go straight to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."
Aisha grinned. "I'll tell Brian that. It'll make his day.". She paused. "So what happened -"
She didn't get any farther, because just then Taylor's smartphone went off in the pouch on her belt. Taylor pulled it out and answered it. "Compass Rose."
It was Miss Militia. "Crawler's on the move. We need you to execute plan Operation Dragon Drop."
"Roger," said Taylor crisply. She put the phone away and held out her hands in front of her; there was a puff of purple-brown smoke and her helmet fell into them.
"Shit," said Aisha, impressed, just as Danny appeared in the bedroom, still buckling his own helmet on. "What's up? You going somewhere?"
"Tell you when we get back," said Taylor. She gave the surprised Aisha a quick hug. "I'm glad you're safe," she said softly.
And then purple smoke bloomed, and they were gone.
Aisha watched it dissipate, then bounced on the bed again. It was just as springy as it had been the first time around.
Danny and Taylor appeared in the middle of the living room. Danny turned to Brian. "I probably don't need to say this," he said, "but you're in charge till we get back. There's food in the fridge, the remote's on the TV, and the bathroom's upstairs. We'll go pick up your clothes when we get the chance."
"Okay," said Brian. "And thanks again."
He found himself talking to a cloud of the same purple-brown smoke as it wafted into nothingness.
"Well, fuck," he said out loud.
Aisha appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey, big bro. Are you believing this?"
Brian shook his head. "Not really." He looked around at the living room, at the small TV set. "I wonder if Danny would object to me moving the gaming console in here."
Aisha came skipping down the stairs. "Taylor would probably enjoy the hell out of it. Hell, you might even be able to rope Danny in. He seems pretty cool."
Brian nodded. "Hey, we can only ask," he said cheerfully.
They flopped on to the sofa, side by side. After a brief tussle, Brian won custody of the remote, which he used to turn on the TV. Soon, he was flicking through news channels to see if he could find out where Pathfinder and Compass Rose had gone off to in such a tearing hurry.
Shatterbird had survived the initial attack on the Slaughterhouse Nine, but she had only lasted a week on her own before a conglomerate of capes from the Southwest had banded together and captured her, using location data supplied by the PRT (and, ultimately, Compass Rose). She was handed over to the local PRT, more dead than alive. Given the extant kill order on her head, she was summarily executed.
Crawler had been a different matter. A stand-up fight he could handle, even relish. But when fliers zoomed overhead, trying to freeze or tranquillise or otherwise make him amenable to capture, he had no fun. There wasn't even much in the way of damage for him to heal.
So he had hidden out, away from the clattering helicopters, the rumbling armoured vehicles. They didn't try to shoot him any more; they had learned that it did virtually nothing. But the helicopters and ground vehicles did have familiar-looking spray guns. Containment foam.
Crawler considered containment foam to be the most cheating, unfair thing that the PRT had ever brought out. It did no damage, but it held him still. The only way for him to get out of it was to spit his corrosive saliva on it, or to break free by main force. If they deployed enough foam, neither way would work.
But he'd figured it out.
If he stayed in one place for too long, they'd bring in something that could hold him. So he was gonna go for broke, head for the nearest population centre. Once he started tearing things up, eating people, they'd have to bring in the big guns, dealing the big hurt. Really start trying to kill him.
I can't fucking wait.
Pathfinder and Compass Rose appeared beside Miss Militia, on the landing stage of the PRT building. She raised an eyebrow. "That took a few seconds longer than I expected," she observed.
Pathfinder shrugged. "We had to make sure the Laborns were settled in," he explained.
Miss Militia nodded. "Well, I'll be your pilot for the day." She turned to the Dragon suit crouching on the landing stage. "It's technically a two-seater. You're going to have to share the second seat."
"We'll manage," Pathfinder assured her.
She nodded to him. "I presumed as much."
Climbing into the the rear seat of the Dragon suit was a little tricky; Compass Rose ended up sitting on Pathfinder's lap. He wore the restraints, as they would not go around the both of them.
As the cockpit closed over their heads, Pathfinder put his arms around his daughter's waist; Compass Rose clasped his hands in hers, so that they had solid contact.
The Dragon suit roared to life, and lifted off on jets of blue flame.
"When you're ready," Miss Militia said over the intercom.
Compass Rose nodded. She gave Pathfinder the location.
The PRT guards on the roof saw the craft disappear in a cloud of purple-brown smoke.
They were hovering over an arid landscape. Almost directly below, a monstrous form thundered over the landscape, multiple legs kicking up dust as it headed for the distant horizon. A single helicopter circled it lazily.
"All units, all units,"broadcast Miss Militia. "Operation Dragon Drop is a go."
"Roger," replied the PRT personnel in the helicopter. "Commence Operation Dragon Drop."
Miss Militia had been trained in the use of these Dragon suits, and Dragon herself was acting as backup pilot. She brought the suit down in a long swooping run at Crawler's rear end, but the massive creature was faster than it looked. Abruptly braking, she pulled up as Crawler spun around and lunged for it.
"Can you 'port us close enough to grab him?" she said over the intercom.
Pathfinder keyed the intercom. "Let him grab us. The armour on this can take the hit long enough."
"Huh," said Miss Militia. "Okay. It just feels ... wrong, to deliberately allow an enemy to strike me."
"Even if he rips our jets off, I can still 'port us to a safe landing," Pathfinder pointed out.
"Your point is well made. Very well. Commencing second run."
Pathfinder tightened his grip around Compass Rose, so as to keep her steady.
The Dragon suit swooped down; Crawler once more turned to meet it, but this time Miss Militia did not shy from contact.
The impact was bruising, but Pathfinder kept hold of Compass Rose.
"I have him!" shouted Miss Militia, audible even without the intercom, over the scream of the jets.
Tentacles coiled past the windows. And Crawler, apparently, had them. The jets laboured, but were unable to lift the mass of the monster they were now grappling with.
In the back seat, the two capes squeezed their clasped hands together tightly. Solid body contact was established.
The Dragon suit, Crawler and all, disappeared from under the baking sun.
Purple-brown smoke billowed, and the ungainly combination reappeared, in the depths of a shaft that had been tunneled straight down into the living rock.
There were no aquifers, no underground water, nothing here except ... rock.
Very thick rock.
Jets screamed as Dragon and Miss Militia tried to stabilise the craft against the motion of the creature that was doing its best to climb on top of it and gain entry.
They bumped, jarringly, against the side of the shaft.
Purple-brown smoke billowed again, and Crawler was left without any means of support.
"OOOHHHH FUUUCCCKKK YOOOUUU!" he bellowed, in his discordant multiple voices, as he fell.
The Dragon craft appeared high in the sky, skidding sideways, jets flaring as Miss Militia and Dragon worked to bring it under control. It didn't take long; however, even after it was on an even keel, red lights flared across the control panel, showing what damage it had taken.
"So, did it work?" asked Miss Militia, over the intercom.
Crawler hit the bottom of the shaft with an impact that broke several of his major bones, and liquefied one or two of his organs. But he was on his feet within seconds, looking around.
The shaft was twenty yards across, and it featured four metal pillars, one in each corner, and a large display screen, easily ten feet across.
The screen lit with a picture of the Chief Director of the PRT, Rebecca Costa-Brown.
"Crawler," she intoned. "By the powers invested in me, and in accordance with the kill order that has been placed on your head for your individual crimes, as well as those committed while in the Slaughterhouse Nine, I now sentence you to – SKRRZZZK!"
The screen shattered and shorted out, as Crawler ripped it from the wall and stomped on the smoking remains.
A few seconds later, unseen speakers continued with Costa-Brown's voice. "- to death. You now have ten seconds to make peace with your actions. May God have mercy on your soul."
All four metal pillars lit with red LEDs. 10.
9
8
7
Do they expect me to try to stop this?wondered Crawler.
He raised his multiple hands with fists clenched in triumph.
"FUCKING BRING IT!"he bellowed, as the timers ticked to zero.
As last words went, they weren't bad.
A jet of flame struck upward from a point a dozen miles away; the rumble of the detonation reached them some moments later.
"It appears to have worked," observed Pathfinder dryly.
"Did he even try to break the bombs?" asked Miss Militia.
Compass Rose shook her head, even though the older woman could not see her. "No. He just ... let it happen."
"But is he dead?" persisted Miss Militia.
"Oh, yes," said Compass Rose. "Very thoroughly."
"Good,"said Miss Militia. "You can take us home now."
Purple-brown smoke bloomed, and the Dragon craft, a little the worse for wear, settled on to the landing stage. The cockpit opened, and all three figures climbed out.
When the applause started, they all looked up in surprise. In the few moments that they'd been gone, the Wards and Protectorate capes had assembled on the roof, along with what PRT staff could be spared from regular duties. And they were all clapping.
Armsmaster stepped forward. "Well done," he said. "Very well done, indeed." He nodded to Miss Militia. "I'll see you in briefing room three. The Director wants the after-action report."
Miss Militia inclined her head. "Sir." She turned to Compass Rose and Pathfinder, and shook their hands, one after the other. "I'll see you two later," she said, then turned to follow Armsmaster.
The rest of the Protectorate, as well as the Wards, surrounded them, shaking their hands, slapping them on the back, and generally congratulating them.
"So, wait," said Compass Rose, once the noise died down a bit. "You were waiting on us? You knew we'd succeed?"
Kid Win hugged her. "Well, duh," he said cheerfully. "Who's gonna bet against Compass Rose and Pathfinder?"
She grinned at him and hugged him back. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said.
Assault shook Pathfinder's hand. "Well," he said, "you've managed to raise the bar. Again." He grinned. "What's next? An Endbringer?"
Pathfinder shook his head. "Christ," he said. "I hope not."
Brian stirred the casserole on the stove while Aisha lounged on the sofa, channel-surfing.
"Smells good, big bro," she called out. "You been taking lessons?"
"Hey," he replied, "you live on your own for a while, you learn how, or you end up eating a lot of takeout." He paused. "Maybe you could stand to learn to cook as well."
She made a rude sound with her lips. "As if." She stopped on a news channel, which showed PRT craft cautiously circling around a smoking hole in the ground. "Huh. What's this?"
"What's what?" he called out from the kitchen.
"Something on the news ... holy shit. I think I know where they went."
"Where?" he asked, wandering into the living room with a spoon in his hand.
"To kill Crawler."
He stared at the TV. "You're kidding." After a moment reading the banner title, he changed his mind. "You're not kidding."
Aisha stared at the screen. "Holy fuck."
"Just between you and me," suggested Brian, "I think you should start being more polite to them."
Aisha nodded. "I think you're right, big bro. I think you're right."
End of Part 19
