Lunch at Arcadia was a little subdued. It was always that way after an Endbringer attack.
"It's…" Chris paused. "You feel relieved, but also sort of guilty, because it wasn't us."
Jim hadn't said anything. He couldn't imagine living his entire life wondering if this time the sirens were going to roar.
He was tough, strong, and fast… but what did strength count for against the Behemoth? What did speed count for against Leviathan?
What good was it to be tough against something that could reach into your mind and… change you.
No wonder people didn't talk about them much. Jim didn't want to. He didn't like the feeling of…
Helplessness.
"Okay," Jim said. "So, how did you do, Ann?" He looked at her. "The riots…"
"Nah." Ann shook her head. She shrugged. "Our neighborhood was pretty quiet." She paused, looked around. "If you fuck things up, you fucked up Lung's property and he sends people… to talk to you about it."
"And nobody does anything?" Jim asked.
Ann looked at him like he had just suggested soloing Kaiser. "He's Lung." She shrugged. "Besides, so long as he just bothers Asians, nobody cares. A while back…" She looked around. "Mom got hassled by some E88 guys, and someone called the cops."
"That's good… they did something about the E88, right?" Jim said.
"Sure. They also brought Mom downtown on 'suspicion of soliciting,' Because of course an Asian woman walking home after dark is probably a whore. Then they released her, and she had to take a bus all the way back from the station. Why do you think the Protectorate hasn't dealt with Lung?"
"Because Lung was powerful enough to stand off Leviathan?" Chris asked.
"So, you're telling me Miss Militia couldn't make a gun big enough to—" Suddenly Ann fell silent, as two kids walked by.
Asian kids. Jim didn't know them. Is she afraid they'd talk…
"A gun big enough to stop him?" Ann was getting annoyed. "Mom pays taxes, to the city, which doesn't do much, the state, the feds, and… to Lung. Ten percent off the top of everything the store makes. Do you know what we could do with that money?" Ann stabbed her meatloaf. "But if you bring it up, they talk about how the city is balanced and the heroes are outnumbered, and the gangs are too big. Why do you think they are? Everyone knows that the cops and PRT won't do anything to help them, so the gang's the only other choice."
"You're…" Claire looked at Ann. "It's Kenji, isn't it?"
"He's… He bought a new game system last week. An expensive one. He's…" Ann paused, bit her lip. "I don't know what he's doing for the money, but there's only one place you get money like that at his age, at least in our neighborhood. ABB, and not just walking around in the colors."
Chris hissed. "Not good."
"No shit. Let me guess, your secret identity is a Protectorate Thinker." Ann fell silent. "I—sorry. It's just that Mom doesn't know and Kenji won't tell her, and she's started… going to church again. She hasn't done that since Dad—since Leviathan." Ann sighed. "He's going to get arrested for tagging, or threatening a tourist or some stupid thing and we always get Juvie. No probation for us." She shook her head. "It's going to wreck Mom."
"Maybe… we could talk to him?" Jim asked.
"That might not be a good idea," Chris said. "I mean, technically, Wards are law enforcement, so if you talk to him…"
"Yeah." Ann shook her head. "I'm going to try and yell at my idiot little brother again." She raised her hands. "One year!" she said. "He's one year younger! Sure he looks a little older, but still, one year. Why does he act like such a moron!"
"Teenager?" Claire asked.
"I'm a teen, and I'm not an idiot!" Ann said.
"Agreed," Jim said. "But if you need help, we'll be here." Claire nodded.
"Hold him down while I strangle some sense into him?"
"I think…" Claire paused. "Yeah, I think that comes under the category of things you shouldn't do in front of someone who enforces the law."
"Close your eyes," Ann muttered.
Later that day, Director Piggot finished going over Claire's neatly typed notes. She wanted this to work.
The rotund woman turned the last page, shook her head, then looked up at Claire and Jim.
"No."
"What?" Claire asked.
"Vista is not getting any weapons, not even the cut down confoam launcher," Piggot gestured at Claire's notes. "No tasers, stun rods, laser pistols, or slingshots."
"I—but why?" Claire finally asked. "She's unarmed."
"Which means that it's slightly less likely that she will be shot at." Director Piggot said. "And even in the Bay, most people tend to shy away from shooting at younger children, even if they are parahumans. Unless you give them a gun, whereupon they're fair game. This is one, and I find myself hating to say this, area where I and Youth Guard are fully in agreement. That's also why we've worked so hard to soft-pedal what her power can do."
"People don't always back off from children," Claire said. Gunmar, for example.
"No," Director Piggot said. "But I'll point out something else. How aggressive would you consider Vista?"
Jim snorted. "Really."
"How much more aggressive will she be with a gun, even a non-lethal one? Aggressive enough to get where she doesn't belong?" Director Piggot glanced over at Jim. "Why do you think she's almost always paired with a Ward or Protectorate member who is capable of close combat? Who is armed? Vista's power is bound up in her ability to control the battlefield, not go out herself and fight. That's your job."
"She'll hate that." Jim shook his head.
"No, she hates that she's 12, even though she's had her powers longer than most of the Wards—longer than you two have." Director Piggot shrugged.
"What about better armor?" Claire finally asked.
"If… It doesn't look military." Director Piggot looked at them. "Vista has suggested that herself, and all of her designs have looked like small versions of PRT armor. But nothing that might encourage her in getting into a close range fight. No enhanced strength, claws, anything like that. And you'll have to run it by me and tech review, presuming you can get a Tinker to work on it."
Merlin's going to love this, Claire thought. He was coming back, with Armsmaster that night to explain their progress with Grey Boy.
"Now," Director Piggot said. "Another point. I told you the synopsis yesterday, but we got permission for the whole mess. You're cleared to know what happened with Sophia, and you can tell Orb Weaver. She seems to like you, so for now, you're her official point of contact and liaison with the PRT." She put down a packet. "This is information for how she can contact us in an emergency, and how we'll be depositing any reward money or bounties. She's already got 3,000 dollars in that account—one of the Empire people we picked up due to her information had several outstanding warrants and rewards out for his capture."
"So… What exactly happened?" Jim asked.
"First of all, the faculty was whole heartedly incompetent. The 'Locker Girl,' Taylor Hebert wasn't the only bullied student there, and a large portion of the faculty, including most of the administration, were perfectly happy to toss it off to being jokes, or worse, something kids needed to 'toughen them up'." Piggot's lips compressed at that. "And then, in a stunning example of PRT incompetence…"
"Yes?" Claire asked.
"Sophia's handler wanted to be her friend and didn't want to hurt her progress by bringing up little things, by the end she was hardly bothering to note anything down at all. Her supervisor had just come off from duty in the Madison containment zone and had been given a cushy recovery posting. As far as he was concerned, anything less than the Slaughterhouse Nine dropping by was a minor event."
"And then she got away with not reporting patrols here," Jim said. He looked sick. "And we helped cover them up."
"You were thinking of helping in one case," Piggot said. "Don't worry though, we're all hated enough by everyone else. Every Wards' program in the nation is getting a look, and some things have been discovered… Nothing as bad as this, but some things."
Claire shook her head. "We'll get in touch, but this…" She glanced over at Jim. "It'd almost be better if it was some big plot or something. This is just…"
"Stupidity?" Director Piggot asked.
"Yeah."
"Welcome to government work, Shadowdancer."
Kenji carefully backed the truck up. He tried to keep from sweating, but if he screwed up here, well…
There was a figure in the parking lot. Dark clothes, bandoleers of guns and knives.
Oni Lee.
"Don't be concerned," Beom-soo said.
Right… Kenji bit his lip and slowly backed the truck up. The loading docks were narrow, the back of the container actually fitting snugly into them.
Whatever the merchandise was, Lung didn't want the Empire to see it. Then they were stopped and Kenji was out with Beom-soo, helping to disconnect the tractor from the semi-trailer. Then they had the landing gear down and were pulling the truck away.
Finally, they parked the truck in the parking place, Kenji pulling his stuff out from the sleeper. Beom-soo, had gone off to talk to the Oni, and then came back and started peeling off fifty-dollar bills.
"Your fourth trip, and you still do well!" he said.
Kenji stared at the money. "There's more here…"
"A bonus!"
Kenji nodded. He glanced at another truck coming in.
"From New York," Beom-soo said. Kenji started to wander over when Beom-soo took him by the arm. "No need to get too curious!" The older man said. "Our job is to transport the merchandise, not prepare it for sale." There was a flicker of something in his eyes. "Remember, we're just the delivery boys. Now, it's been days, days since we've eaten good gogi-gu-I! And that is because only in the Bay are we gifted with Madame Jeong's! So come, come and help an old man home after he's eaten far too much! I will be paying, of course!"
Kenji grinned. "Sure!" With that, Beom-soo clapped his arm around Kenji's shoulder and they went off to eat.
It would be good. That was one thing Kenji knew. Beom-soo would starve before he'd compromise on the food he ate.