- - -Still-Defiant- - -

The door opens. I'm greeted by a teenager. Conservatively dressed, blonde hair tied back, with green eyes and freckles. Her eyes are sunken, and her demeanor is frazzled - a far cry from the cool confidence Tattletale projected in her cape persona. "You're here." She looks me up and down, before blinking. Did she just use her power to assess me? Why isn't she in costume? She shakes her head, as if to dispel errant thoughts. "Come in - I don't think we have much time."

She turns, heading into the apartment. Dragon's voice comes over the comms. "That's her. Strong match to Tattletale with vocal recognition, exact match with the suspected civilian ID's face."

I step inside, casting my eyes about her place. It's tidy, and sparsely decorated - I can't see any personal effects, and the few allowances to taste are generic. Is the house a front, or does she just keep a mostly unornamented home?

I close the door behind me. "You're talking about this employer of yours?"

She paces back and forth along the division between the kitchen and living room. "Yeah. Coil-" She blinks. "-But you already knew that. How?" Her voice harried, she shakes her head. "No - it doesn't matter right now. I don't know why you did it, but by rushing this through the PRT you caught him on the back foot. If he'd known you were looking to recruit me, I'd have been relocated and cut off from all outside contact until you left town."

She knows I'm leaving town, then? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised - I'd all but mentioned it in my message. She continues, the hint of a quaver entering her voice. "If you'd waited a day or two longer, it would have been too late. I know how he operates, and I know for certain that I'm under surveillance - he'll be scrambling to get a team of agents here as we speak."

I frown. She certainly seems to be appropriately nervous. It's surprising - I had been expecting the cool and collected Tattletale from my memories. Not this… distressed teenager. It makes an amount of sense, though - this Tattletale hasn't gone through two years worth of Endbringer attacks, the Slaughterhouse Nine and whatever else she had done that turned her into the person I worked with during Scion's rampage.

"We need to go, then. We can talk about the job once you're no longer in danger."

She stops pacing, turning to look at me. "Yeah, definitely-"

A crash of breaking glass and a thud from the bedroom cuts her off. Her eyes widen, and she drops to the ground, hiding behind the couch. I move, stepping towards her. While I could certainly hold my own in a fight against Coil's agents, doing so while keeping a VIP unharmed and uncaptured is more complicated.

I grab a confoam grenade from its place in my suit. Priming it with a deft motion, I throw it towards the bedroom door. "Come on, we're leaving!"

She scrambles to her feet - too slow, we need to move! I grab her, hoisting her onto my shoulder in a fireman's carry. She lets out a yelp, but doesn't protest. I take off in a sprint - there's no time to lose.

By the time the grenade goes off, we're out the front door. I make out a muffled curse from the bedroom - hopefully they got caught in that, but I'm not counting on it. Dragon's voice comes over my comm. "The PRT have been alerted. They're enroute with a team."

I sprint down the path towards the road, eyes darting about. The door to the first unit is open - an ambush? Or a curious civilian? I thumb the control to my halberd, setting it to stun. A man steps out - overweight, unshaven, bald, dressed in a wife beater and shorts. He sees me coming and darts back into his unit. A civilian, then.

I make it to the street, sliding to a stop next to my bike. Putting Tattletale down from the carry, I urge her "On the bike - go!" She stumbles, getting her footing. While she clambers on, I look around. The squeal of tires catches my attention - a pair of vans, speeding around the corner.

I jump on the bike behind her, reaching around her to grab the handlebars. Hopefully, my armour will protect her from any stray bullets. The bike starts, and I put it into a u-turn away from the oncoming vans.

"Dragon - ETA on that backup?"

Her reply is immediate. "Three minutes out. You're on your own for now."

The vans are fast, but my bike is faster. Unfortunately, I'm not nearly fast enough to lose them altogether - especially with the recklessness that the drivers are pursuing me with. I reach the end of the street, taking the turn tightly. Tattletale has the seat in a deathgrip, hunched over in front of me.

"Give me cameras." My helmet system recognises the command, putting rear view and front view camera feeds from my bike in the corners of my display. Tattletale's hair is whipping around in the wind, but my visor keeps it from interfering with my driving - I really should keep a spare helmet for situations like this.

The vans are much too close for comfort. I can see the front passengers fiddling with something, but can't make it out. I tear my attention back to the road - the streets in this part of the city are almost empty, but not entirely. The cars pull off the road with haste, noticing the chase catching up behind them.

"Look out!"

Dragon's warning has me swerving - just in time. A pair of crackles pierce the night - the passengers are firing on me. They've got some sort of laser weapon - Tinkertech. The beams hit the road, leaving pocks in the asphalt. Dammit - I need to get some distance!

The shots keep coming as I hit the throttle, pulling away from them. "Release caltrops."

The pyrotechnics activate at my command, releasing the tightly packed spikes from the compartment at the rear of my bike. I can see the vans swerve to no avail, the pop of their tires reporting my success.

A smile graces my face as I reach the end of the street, turning towards the PRT building. It seems that Coil's mercenaries aren't all that they're cut out to be. I continue on, keeping an eye on my rearview camera.

"Armsmaster - I've got a speeding bike one turn behind you. Closing fast!"

I let out a curse - it seems I thought too soon. I lay on the throttle again.

I see the bike Dragon's talking about taking the turn sharp. The driver is in a racer's stance, leaning hard into the turn. The bike matches the rider's skills - it looks like something that belongs on a MotoGP circuit, not on a city road! There's no way I can outrun this. My bike is made for navigating city traffic - not going head to head with purpose-built racing motorcycles.

Whoever the driver is, they're dressed differently to the rest of the mercs - unadorned black motorcycle helmet, skin-tight bodysuit, and sturdy padded slacks. Their build is slight, and their getup leaves no exposed skin. They're gaining fast - I need to act. I'm out of caltrops - what else did this bike have? I wrack my brain. Dammit - think! Spikestrips? No - that's not right.

The other bike slows down, keeping it's distance. I tense - they're about to try something. They raise their hand to their ear, as if listening to an earpiece. I get ready to swerve - I don't like this one bit.

The other rider lets go of their handlebars, and in their hands materialises a large rifle - some serious firepower. I curse - they're a Cape! I send the bike into a hard turn to cut through the greenway - I need to get off of this straight. It's for nothing, though - while I turn, the gun tracks me unerringly. Despite the imbalanced load and their hands being otherwise occupied, the Cape somehow manages to keep their bike heading steady, even as they line up the shot.

The gun fires as I finish the turn. The bullet flies true, sending my bike into a fishtail. My rear tire pops, toppling the already unstable ride. I grab ahold of Tattletale, leaning into the slide. The bike separates from us, flipping into a violent tumble as it hits a footpath through the park.

The pair of us slide to a stop on the turf. I scramble to my feet immediately. Tattletale looks unharmed, if rattled. Clods of dirt fall from the side of my armour as I regain my footing. "Stay down. I'll handle this."

She mumbles something vaguely affirmative sounding - good enough for me. I turn, sighting the other rider. They've already stopped, and are walking towards us at a steady pace. Damn - my halberd was strapped to my bike, which has only just now rolled to a stop on the other end of the park.

I can hear sirens in the distance - the PRT will be here soon. I just have to hold off this cape long enough for them to arrive. "ETA, Dragon."

"Ninety seconds."

Longer than I'd have liked. Enough for this cape to disappear with Tattletale if I don't account myself well enough. I vaguely recall a villain that was active around this time with powers to match the Cape before me. Circus - grab-bag, serial burglar, assumed independent. Enhanced agility, a pocket dimension, and something about pyrokinesis, if I recall correctly.

She must be on Coil's payroll - or of a more mercenary inclination than we had thought.

I palm a flashbang grenade, looping my thumb through the tab. The Cape stops, a dozen paces away from me. The rifle is nowhere to be seen - I don't like my chances if she decides to put a bullet through the gap below my visor. With the accuracy they've shown already, that's something I'll have to count on them being able to do at the drop of a pin.

The helmet disappears - in much the same way that the rifle had appeared - replaced by a tiny bowler hat and ornate charade mask. The lower half of the cape's face is alabaster, contrasted by bright red lipstick.

"Circus." I tense, ready to move at the slightest provocation.

"Armsmaster. I don't suppose you'll stand aside and let me take the girl back home?" Her stance is loose, mouth twisted into an unhappy frown - discord in the ranks, perhaps? I can't imagine that she'd be too happy attracting the attention of the authorities in this way.

"Not an option. Cease and desist your pursuit, or face arrest and persecution under the full extent of the law." I'm bluffing - I don't have confidence in my ability to arrest her - not without my halberd. Maybe I could pull something if pressed, but I wouldn't bet on it - Circus is just too wily to be pinned down so easily. There's a reason that she hasn't been captured yet.

She presses her fingers to her ear, listening to the communicator again. I can see her jaw tense - whatever was said, she isn't happy about it. "No can do, I'm afraid. The boss doesn't take no for an answer."

There's nothing for it, then. I flick my thumb, releasing the pin then dropping the flashbang onto the ground. I break into a sprint, closing the distance. The flashbang goes off, only marginally effective out in the open like this.

I slam my fist into her stomach, the blow connecting solidly. Circus dances out of the way of my follow-up, clearly pained by the hit. She darts back in with a twirl, a hammer appearing in her hands. The tool collides with my pauldron, thankfully missing my jaw. I'm sent off balance by the mass behind the strike, but recover in time to bring my gauntlet up in the way of a knife thrown at my face.

It seems like there isn't any appreciable limit to how often she can use her pocket dimension. I prime and drop another flashbang in a split second, my leg sweeping around to try and knock her legs out from under her.

She jumps over my leg, diving towards the grenade. It disappears, and she springs upwards, sledgehammer in hand again. I reel backwards, barely managing to get out of the way of the head. Unbalanced, her kick to my chest sends me sprawled across the ground.

I roll, a hammer blow landing uselessly on the ground beside me. My hand lashes out, grabbing ahold of her arm. I tug hard, my other fist launching upwards towards her face. It connects, earning me a shocked gasp from Circus for my efforts. I cock my arm back for another, but I'm interrupted by a gout of flame bursting towards my face.

I roll, letting go of my grapple. I'd avoided being burnt, but lost my hold of her in the process. I scramble to my feet, casting my eyes about the park in the process. Tattletale's still here, and there's no more mercs waiting in the wings - good.

I turn back to Circus. She's on her feet, but looking worse for it. She spits, a dribble of blood flowing down her chin. "You've got a nasty right hook there."

"I've got another one waiting for you right here." I should try to keep her talking - wait down the timer on my reinforcements.

She chuckles, a pained grimace flashing across her face. "Never thought you were one for banter. Gonna have to take a rain check on that one, though."

She turns, and my visor polarizes, accompanied by a muffled bang - the flashbang from earlier. She's making for her bike, already jumping onto it by the time my visor has normalized. With a squeal, the bike tears off down the street.