Step 4.4
Armsmaster might be an ass, but I guess that means he must be really good at his job. Because he still has a job.
After getting the rundown for how the power worked, he tested a few things. Some of it seemed random at first, but after he asked me to walk down the hall starting on the left hand side and I wound up on the right, I figured it out.
Part of me felt insulted, like being second guessed. But, I told that part of me to shut up.
Armsmaster tested the power left, right, front, back, and center. No one else entered the building, not until we were sure we understood it. Miss Militia and I were present when the trigger happened, so we both stayed in the area. Velocity ran in to look around, and provide a baseline for Armsmaster's tests.
As annoying as being on the front of that was, it made complete sense.
Great time to be researching Teacher on the side. A trump, and a scary one. Gave people any number of skills or abilities. Minor powers more or less. Spent a few years selling that service, laying low. That people became enslaved, to degrees, only came out later. Far too late. He'd built an army within a few short years.
An army that maybe could keep working, even with their master in the Bird Cage.
So, yes. The Protectorate didn't want to play with a power it didn't understand. I figured a more official process existed for these situations, but with the PRT building on lock down that might not be an option.
It all checked out in the end.
Enough that Armsmaster made the call, anyway.
Within thirty minutes police, EMTs, and firemen swarmed into Winslow. Dauntless and Armsmaster got them organized, and they carried dozens of stretchers in with them.
Brockton Bay didn't just have a bunch of thermal cameras laying around unfortunately. It did, apparently, have one of the highest rated shakers on the east coast.
"You can take a break if necessary," Armsmaster suggested.
"I'm alright," the little green heroine replied. Vista held her hands out. "Ready?"
The police officers standing by my X marks nodded.
Vista's lips straightened, and her breathing slowed. The wall began to twist, turning back and forth on itself. Kind of nauseating to look at really. Gave me a bit of a pinch in my ears, but I just avoided looking right at them.
But with the twisting wall as a backdrop, the outline of seven people appeared.
Tattletale's prediction turned out true. The power "fudged" what went to our brains, smoothed it out so everything looked fine even as we didn't actively see or hear people.
Apparently the effect didn't work so well with terrain as designed by Salvador Dali.
"Lift carefully and lower them to the stretchers," Armsmaster ordered. "Try not to look directly at them. We're not certain of the effects beyond mild pain."
He turned and walked out of the room. Vista kept twisting the wall until all the people inside were laying down. The officers lifted the stretchers and walked them out one by one.
"To the left," Veda said through Pink.
I stepped out into the hall, watching as others took instructions from Veda to get a good hold on someone. Took more time, but we only had one Vista.
Vista followed me out of the room, looking a little ragged.
"Sure you don't need a rest?" I asked.
"I'm fine," she repeated. "Ar—"
My phone started ringing, a high pitched tone that started low and built before dropping.
Several people looked my way.
"Are you going to answer that?" Vista asked.
The phone kept ringing. "Nope."
"Sure?"
"Yup."
"You know"—I turned, finding Stratos standing in the hall just a few feet away—"the Wards never have to worry about their parents finding out they skipped school."
The irony being that I'm still here.
"I'm not joining the Wards."
Stratos shrugged. "If anyone asks, say I tried."
"Not very hard," Vista noted.
"No," I replied. "He tried very, very hard. All of you should just stop trying. You'll never be able to match his eloquence and guile."
Stratos glanced to Vista. "Hear that? I'm eloquent."
The laughs that followed—most from the men working around us—brought a little heat to my cheeks. I kept my head forward and high through it. I didn't mean to say that out loud.
Armsmaster called for Vista. The girl walked around me and down the hall.
I kept watching Stratos.
Something seemed off. His mask covered nearly all of his face save his mouth. Thinking back he almost always sported a relaxed grin or a calm smile, but right now he just looked…still.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"Just dandy."
"No. You're not."
He crossed his arms over his chest, head tilted to one side and watching me. "When did you get so perceptive?"
"I'm not," I admitted. "You're just obviously not dandy."
And then he grinned a little. "Suppose I'm not." He turned down the hall, one hand rising to wave at me. "I think I could go for some fresh air. Want to come?"
After a few moments, I decided why not?
Being in Winslow, now, in this situationtoo bizarre. Not to mention I felt like the ten thousandth wheel. Veda and the Haros handled most of what needed to be done. No one needed me at the moment.
Plus the other things on my mind.
Like figuring what the hell a Teacher's Pet was and whether Tattletale wanted to help or mess with me.
Outside, a sea of police cruisers, ambulances, and trucks surrounded Winslow. Beyond them, a crowd gathered on the edge of a yellow tape line. I saw a few students there, but I guess a lot of people went home. Blackwell talked to Dauntless and Velocity on one side, two men in dress uniforms taking down notes and another talking into a phone.
"What happened with Chariot?" I asked.
"Ramius got him to the Rig. She's on her way back if that interests you."
"What about everyone else? Parian?"
"She's fine. Most of her family too. We never got around to picking up Sere, but he called in while you were out. Triumph's been handling it. Only person still unaccounted for is Laughter."
Well, after Winslow becoming a disaster, I'd settle for everything else going mostly okay.
We walked down the front steps toward the main gate. I saw a group of firemen loading "empty" stretchers into the back of an ambulance.
Veda tallied the trigerees as we marked them.
One hundred fifty-seven total, including the seventeen who died.
While Veda didn't find any news about "Case Sixty-Six" or "broken trigger" she did find a number of incidents. High numbers of deaths attributed to individual capes during a trigger, capes who never materialized after the event itself. Four or so a year in the continental United States, and a few in Europe.
Some of them might be just that, but the rest? Awfully similar.
"What's going to happen to them?" I asked.
"We'll move them to hospitals for now. Not sure if the docs can work out a way to keep an eye on them. Some parahuman help might be needed."
How do you keep track of people you couldn't see? Would monitors even work? I heard a few people mention it, and Armsmaster seemed to assume that the power came with a range limit since Veda could see everyone.
But Veda was an AI.
Easy enough to toss any irregularity out as a power immunity or something, so I didn't worry about her being found out. All the same, just because Veda could see people without issue meant little.
What hospital could remotely be prepared for something like this?
We exited the front gates onto the sidewalk, Miss Militia's bike moved off the street to make room for more emergency vehicles. And more cops.
"Lots of cops," I said.
"Not enough troopers for the current disaster," Stratos answered. "Should probably say something about how you keep walking into those."
"I didn't put on a mask to be safe at home," I answered.
"Most new heroes don't find this much trouble this quickly."
"Most new heroes don't live in Brockton Bay."
Thinking back, the last few "new heroes" in the Bay all either joined the Wards soon after their first appearance, or were kids in New Wave.
Aegis last year. Panacea and Clockblocker two years ago. Glory Girl and Shielder a year before that. Vista, Kid Win, and Shadow Stalker had been active for a while, but I couldn't remember how long off the top of my head.
Though Sophia only joined the Wards about eight months ago. She might have been the last person to claim to be a hero and not go straight to the Wards.
And she didn't really count as a hero in my book.
"Yeah," Stratos said. "Don't say I told you, but Militia's been pretty worked up the past few weeks."
"About me?"
"Soft spot. She was a child soldier for a little while."
That sounded vaguely familiar. I was young when Miss Militia graduated from the first Wards team and joined the Protectorate, but most people who did usually got a vague biography released.
"Doesn't like seeing kids get hurt." In a lower voice he added, "Something we have in common."
"Where?" I asked.
"Not really my story to tell. Ask her if you like. Shy isn't the right word for how she deals with it."
Not sure if he side stepped answering my question or if I just misunderstood the original statement.
We came to a stop. Stratos turned and held his hand out to the ambulance in front of us.
"What?" I asked.
"Want to have someone check you out. Just to be sure."
I took one look at the enclosed space, and, "I'm fine. We just spent a half hour going over this."
"We just want to be sure."
"I don't need it."
"Miss Militia's getting checked too. Just a quick once over to be sure you're alright. Best not taking chances with stranger powers."
Remembering the last time a member of the Protectorate put me in an ambulance, and then refused to let me leave, I still leaned toward no.
"I don't see how some EMT is going to tell if I've been affected in some way. I feel fine."
"We brought in a specialist."
"You know you could just drag her in at finger point," a voice said.
"That wouldn't be very hospitable," Stratos replied.
A woman stepped around from behind the ambulance. Shoulder length blond hair, with a heart shaped face and hazel eyes.
"Jess."
"Strat."
"Didn't know you were back in town."
"I go where the work is." She turned her gaze on me. "Big show in Boston coming up. The organizer wants it to be fabulous."
She looked familiar, but I couldn't plac—
"You're Fleur," I said with the realization.
She smiled. "The rogue formerly known as Fleur."
Probably wouldn't recognize her without all the research I did weeks ago. Lots of news reports followed New Wave publically unmasking, and even more after she got shot.
"I didn't know you were still around," I mumbled.
She shrugged, saying, "Stop putting on spandex and everyone starts thinking you're gone forever."
After a moment of wrapping my head around it—meeting Fleur the same day a bunch of capes get outed—I glanced up at Stratos.
"She's your specialist?" I asked.
Fle—Jess smiled and waved her hand. "Unless you need a stellar light show, no. I'm just the chauffeur."
She nodded to the back of the ambulance beside her, and against my better judgment I stepped forward.
Miss Militia sat inside, her arm in the hands of a girl in a white robe. I recognized the costume fast enough. She wasn't Protectorate or a Ward, but everyone in the Bay knew who Panacea—Amy Dallon—was.
A pair of eyes glanced my way, a freckle covered face barely visible under her hood.
"Sit down," Panacea lazily ordered. "I'll check you in a moment."
Miss Militia nodded to me as I climbed inside. An EMT sat on the far end of the vehicle, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention. Suppose he didn't need to.
"How's it looking so far?" Stratos asked.
He stood just outside, a little more relaxed now than before.
"She's alright," Panacea answoered.
Miss Militia seemed perfectly at ease asking, "No signs of master or stranger effects then?"
"No," the healer elaborated. "Your brain looks exactly the same as before. Granted, I've only experimented a little with Valiant's."
"Experimented?" I asked.
"Been testing to see if I can detect master influence. Valiant leaves a trace in the receptors of the nervous system."
Not sure how I felt about being an experiment.
She released Miss Militia's arm and nodded to the woman.
"It's possible this power does something I'm not noticing but I don't see anything out of place right now."
Miss Militia nodded.
"We'd use the Master/Stranger cells in the PRT building if we had them," Stratos noted. "Which we don't."
Panacea turned to me and held her hand out. I remained still, but damned rationality. I didn't like the idea of powers messing with my brain. Tattletale messed with it enough for one day.
I sighed and got inside, but I stayed right by the exit. "How does this work?"
"I need to touch you."
I waited.
"I mean skin to skin contact," she clarified. "Nothing too risqué. Can you remove your gloves?"
I in fact could not. Actually might be a design oversight in the new flight suit. Only the boots came off and asking Panacea to handle my feet or face sounded like some weird fetish, so…
"One sec." Reaching to my neck I pulled the zipper down just slightly.
"That'll do." Her hand inched towards me, stopping just short of contact. "It's alright?"
Not really. "Go ahead."
Finding out if something messed with my brain actually seemed like a good idea.
Panacea reached out, two fingers gently resting on my throat. I felt a mild tingle course through me. The sensation started at my neck, and slowly worked its way through me.
"The muscles around your shoulder are a little inflamed," Panacea noted.
I kept my head straight, saying, "Oni Lee likes bombs."
"Fixed."
What?
I rotated my shoulder a little. There had been a mild pinch there before, ever since that crazy PRT doctor put it back in the socket. Didn't feel it anymore.
Actually, it felt really good.
Like I just got a massage.
"Thanks?"
"I'm already here."
A few awkward seconds passed, Panacea's eyes looking at me, but not really looking at me.
How did that work? She healed people, but how? As in the mechanical how. Obviously she could touch someone and see things about them, and from what she'd described earlier it sounded like she saw a lot. Did she get a blueprint of the body in her head, or was it more instinctual?
Either way, it felt an awful lot like being naked.
"I don't have any reference for you, but you seem fine. A little strain and scarring here and there."
"Probably from my suit. Still working out the inertia neutralizers."
"It'll heal fine on its own."
The feeling receded the moment Panacea's fingers left my skin. She climbed out of the vehicle, and I quickly followed before anyone could block me in.
"Not usual for the Protectorate to run in powers blazing," Jess said.
"We're a bit pressed," Stratos answered.
"The lock down on the PRT building will stay in place for a few more hours," Miss Militia revealed. "We hope."
They don't even know how long it'll last?
"I heard someone mention sabotage," Jess inquired.
"We think so," Miss Militia replied. "Normally only the Director or Deputy Director can lock down the entire building, and we were in the middle of a meeting when it happened."
"No sign or indication they did it," Stratos said. "Won't know for sure till it ends or Shadow Stalker comes back out."
"Shadow Stalker?" I asked. I remembered them saying something about that earlier.
"Armsmaster asked her to slip into the building," Miss Militia answered. "If she doesn't come out soon, we assume there really is a master/stranger situation. Director Piggot won't let her leave if there is."
Did they know about Teacher, or the Pet as Tattletale called it? Well, maybe the people inside the PRT knew, but they couldn't say anything.
"We need to talk."
Surprisingly, I didn't say it.
Armsmaster walked towards us, a nod going to Jess and Panacea.
"The cleanup and rescue is going smoothly," he reported. "Militia, you're alright?"
"She's fine," Panacea repeated. She nodded to me. "Her too. Far as I can tell."
"I'd like to ask you try and examine one of the victims," Armsmaster requested.
He nodded to Stratos, who nodded back. The hero led the two women along the street, leaving me with Miss Militia and Armsmaster.
Get this over with. "You were saying?"
Armsmaster glanced around. People ran back and forth. They gave the three of us a good berth, though. He closed the doors to the ambulance and alone in an ambulance with Armsmaster again. Well, outside an ambulance.
Still felt too familiar.
"I wish to impress upon you the sensitive nature of this incident. The PRT and Protectorate do not believe knowledge of Case Sixty-Six will serve the public good."
"I'm not lying for you," I said immediately. "I—"
Stop making choices out of spite for everyone who's ever wronged you.
…
Fuck Tattletale.
I didn't see myself as particularly spiteful. If I were spiteful, I'd have destroyed Shadow Stalker and the PRT already. Gone to the press with what information I had and brought a PR nightmare upon them.
Right?
I'd been more than patient. Went along with the PRT and Protectorate for the sake of my own security and sanity, not to mention the sake of the city.
At the moment though, Aisha—when did I start remembering her name?—stuck with me. If they blamed her, would I stay quiet? It wasn't fair. She didn't do anything wrong. Some racist bullies came after her, and maybe they got theirs in an unfair way, but Aisha suffered for it too.
"I'm not going to go out of my way and make trouble," I grumbled. "Don't make it my problem."
"Armsmaster." Miss Militia looked at the man sternly. "Perhaps Ramius is the better person to discuss this with her?"
Right. I dealt with Ramius now. Why was Armsmaster even trying to talk to me?
"This is serious," Armsmaster snarled. "You will likely be asked to sign an NDA, and"—he turned his head to Miss Militia—"Ramius will say the same thing."
"Then I'll talk about it with Ramius," I snarled right back. If only to get the hell away from this ambulance.
Armsmaster didn't look happy, but what was he supposed to do? Calvert all but said that everyone in the local PRT and Protectorate got orders to stay out of it where I came in. Guess that included trying to make me toe the party line.
"Very well," he said, with no attempt to hide his displeasure. He turned and stalked off, shoulders tense.
I glanced to Miss Militia. "What now?"
Miss Militia glanced to me. "Ramius is on her way back. You can ask her if you like."
I waited a moment, but she didn't say anything else. Nothing to say? Nothing nice?
I nodded and left her. If she didn't want to say anything, fine.
Easier to look into things without any distractions. Fortunately I knew Winslow well. I took up a spot just inside the gate and around the corner. A blind spot of sorts. Not noticeable for anyone walking toward the building and everyone walking away did so with stretchers and gurneys.
A good place to just sit on the grass and look at my phone. Veda brought up the articles and I went through them one by one.
The smell of cigarette smoke filled the air, which distracted me a little. Not my favorite scent.
The Phoenix bombing felt oddly familiar. I think I saw it on the news in 2005. Orchestrated by a Teacher's Pet, someone under the effect of said cape's power, in the PRT. A trooper. He planted a series of bombs from their own armory one night and detonated them in the middle of a meeting.
Three months later, another series of bombs went off around the city, right after the local Director assured people the problem was resolved.
The pattern continued in the other two attacks Tattletale named. Someone under his influence did something bad, the victim started damage control, and then something else happened. Something that hit right where it would hurt most.
Bombings after the PRT assured everyone of safety, or a security breach immediately after the NSA swore they'd shored up their procedures.
A lot different from his earlier work too. His first few crimes were elaborate assassinations. Not quite outright terrorism.
Maybe being sent to the Bird Cage caused his followers, for lack of a simpler term, to change tactics?
Now, what to do about it. Tell Ramius I guess.
I decided to check on Veda.
sys.t/ how is everything going?
sys.v/ evacuation of Winslow 13%
sys.v/ completion, two hours fourteen minutes
sys.t/ once it's done send the Haros out again
sys.t/ no one ever found Laughter
sys.v/ understood
Back to the Teacher thing then. Ramius.
"Is Ramius available?" I asked over the Protectorate line.
"I'm here," she said. "I'll be back at Winslow in a few minutes."
"We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Teacher's Pets."
A growl came over the line. "Tattletale?" Armsmaster asked.
"Tattletale." So they know Teacher is involved.
"I'll handle it," Ramius said. "Be there in a few minutes."
I got up and walked back out of the gate. My mystery smoker turned her head, bored eyes looking me over before turning away.
"Hi," I offered.
"Hey," Panacea replied. Her hood hung on her back, revealing her full face.
Curiosity rose up. "Did you…" Couldn't finish it, because I wasn't really sure how to ask.
Didn't need to.
"I tried," she said. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and exhaled. I tried not to cough. "Didn't work."
Wait, doesn't her power not work on herself?
"I could tell someone was there," she explained, "but trying to map her out with my power gave me a headache. The image was too blurry to do anything with it."
Not sure what I expected but Panacea being able to use her power, I don't know. Something. Something better than nothing.
With her hood off, she didn't quite look like what I imagined. Frizzy brown hair sprouted from her head. The strands were messy, falling around a freckled face with mousy features. She seemed tired. Bags hung under her eyes, a little blood shot, and her hair looked a mess.
Not much sleep maybe.
"Did you want something?" she asked.
"I'm waiting for someone."
So we stood in silence. I ignored her, and she ignored me. Ramius would find me easily by the front gate. Hopefully she'd cooperate and tell me what the PRT knew.
Worked out alright, up until a hand reached out and grabbed the cigarette from her mouth.
"Honestly," Jess sighed. "How do you keep getting your hands on these?"
"I ask nicely," Panacea answered.
Odd. Despite having her smoke taken away, she looked a little more upbeat.
Jess shook her head. "Can heal everyone but yourself and you pick smoking as a vice. Why couldn't you just gamble? Or river dance?"
My thoughts exactly. Except for the river dance. How is that a vice?
"Calms my nerves," Panacea replied. "You know how intensive it is using my power."
"And you know there are better ways to manage exhaustion than smoking. I like ice cream."
"I prefer froyo," the healer said.
Jess turned her attention to me. "And what are you doing?"
"I'm—"
My phone began ringing again. Jess and Panacea waited. I crossed my arms and made it clear I wasn't answering.
And they went right back to it.
"You don't have to baby me," Panacea said
"I call it watching out for you, frizz-head," Jess answered. "You're lucky I don't tell Carol about these." She held the half burnt cigarette up. "Where's the gum we got you?"
"In my sock drawer. I think."
"Put them in your pocket. You'll thank me when you're sixty and your lungs still work."
The cigarette lit up for a second and when Jess released it, the whole thing just popped. Pop. Gone. I gawked a bit at the casual display of her power but Panacea didn't seem surprised.
"Now, come on. We'll get some ice cream. Going to need it."
Panacea offered me a half wave as she pulled her hood back up. Jess walked back around the gate and the healer followed after her.
"Froyo," Jess mumbled. "A heathen in my own family."
"You just don't appreciate flavor."
Not what I expected.
Not that I expected much. Strange. Meeting Fleur was a surprise. Guess she worked in entertainment now?
Out of New Wave's members only Glory Girl and Panacea actively did…anything really. Panacea most of all in my mind, if only because she supposedly spent three to four days a week using her power to heal terminal patients, or people with physical disorders.
Did she really need a costume for that? Not typical cape stuff, but people did say a cape can do more than punch out bad guys…
When did I forget that? I'd thought of it back when I started. Dragon mentioned it when she put me in contact with the Foundation.
Shit.
The only thing worse than Tattletale.
A Tattletale who might be onto something.
"Newtype."
Ramius approached through the crowd. She looked a little ragged, her bun somewhat disheveled and her clothes wrinkled.
"What happened?" I asked.
She nodded to Winslow. "Big rush out of the building. Got a little ruffled pulling Chariot into the car."
Trevor. "He's alright?"
"A little freaked out. No injuries." She gave me a wary look, waiting for a moment before asking, "Are you alright?"
I scowled. "Why is everyone asking me that?"
"Because you're a teenager who just saw a dozen other teenagers die, and dozens more suffer a fate potentially worse than death."
"I'm fine."
"No one will think less of you."
"They can't because I'm fine."
Ramius clearly didn't believe me, but honestly I was fin— I really want to stop hearing that word right now.
"I'm dandy." Fuck.
"Alright," she said. "How much did Tattletale say?"
"That she was seventy-five to eighty percent sure, would like to be wrong, and I quote, 'for once,' and that he'll probably hit again."
"If it is him, he probably will. And the Master/Stranger lock down on the PRT building might be legitimate."
"But you're not sure?"
"The circumstances are unusual." She glanced around and waved me closer. "Not here."
I followed her to her car. She parked down the street and around the corner, just behind an ambulance. Actually gave pretty good cover from the crowd, so I don't think anyone saw us, and we were far enough away from the actual emergency that the people around us were mostly coming and going rather than loitering.
"Did Tattletale say anything else?" she asked.
"I think she's hoping I'll get distracted and not hunt her down to break her arms." Ramius brow went up. I shrugged. "You were saying?"
Ramius pulled her phone from her pocket. "I suppose she didn't say anything else then?" I kept my mouth shut. "How much do you know about Teacher?"
"That he's in the Bird Cage for having an army of slaves and his slaves keep causing trouble."
"More or less. He's been a thorn in the side of every intelligence and law enforcement agency in North America for the last ten years. Particularly the last few, where he dropped assassination and started attacking the organizations themselves."
"How? He's in the Bird Cage."
"We never thought his influence would last so long. Indications before suggested it faded over time without regular applications."
"And you guys just hire people who worked for him?"
"We do screen people for contact with masters and strangers," Ramius explained. "Problem is Amanda was twelve when he went away. She never lived in a city when he did. She never, as far as we know, came into contact with him."
Right. "And Amanda is…" Wait, I knew that name. Where did I know that name?
"Your leaker," Ramius said. "Information from the tip line isn't particularly hard to find. Almost anyone can access it, but it's not something the Director ever asked her for. We investigated and found other irregularities in her behavior going back a few years."
"The Director?
"She was Director Piggot's secretary."
"The secretary?"
Ramius nodded.
I sighed.
"What?" she asked.
"Fuck Tattletale."
"I thought she didn't say anything else?"
"She mentioned that it was probably someone in the Director's office."
"And did she say how she knew that?"
"She's psychic." Ramius stared at me. "No. Really. That's what she said."
"That's impossible."
"She knows a lot of stuff," I admitted. "Which I don't say to prove she is psychic, just that she's getting it from somewhere. And her name is Tattletale."
"Something I'll send up the chain. As for Amanda, for what it's worth she was arrested last night. A lot of the violent attacks the past few weeks lined up with phone calls made from a line in her building. Among a few others."
"Last night?" Ramius nodded. "Then today is…A dead man switch?"
"Maybe."
"Tattletale said that too."
Ramius offered me a small smile, saying, "When I ask for an official statement, I suggest giving out every detail you can think of."
"Official statement?"
"Not now." She looked toward the school. "Today has been dramatic enough, and you aren't a Ward so we can't compel you. I'd like to think, though, that you'd be willing."
I shrugged. Not really on my priority list.
"You let Tattletale escape with her, didn't you?"
I flinched. "What? Who?"
Ramius shook her head. "You're a rotten liar."
I frowned and crossed my arms. "Is the PRT going to say she did it?"
Ramius' face got stern, but her eyes maintained that odd softness she carried about her. "Probably. It's how we keep these things quiet."
"She didn't do anything wrong."
"No, she didn't."
"And you want me to work with people who will throw a little girl to the wolves for their own convenience?"
She's me.
I got thrown into hell to protect a Ward, knowingly or not. Now they'd knowingly throw Aisha there too, just to keep a secret.
"I think that's overstating things a bit," Ramius replied. "People are going to want to know what happened, and the truth will just terrify them. The world has enough problems without everyone worrying about a hundred Ash Beasts appearing in downtown New York."
"And for that Aisha has to suffer?"
"It's not like we're going to say her name. Director Piggot will probably say something along the lines of, 'parahuman incident. We're investigating the culprit.'"
"And you're going to black out social media?"
Ramius didn't immediately answer. Tattletale called this spite? How could anyone not feel angry about that? Spiteful when they found themselves in the middle getting hurt by it.
"People can figure out she goes to school here. How long till they figure out Grue's sister isn't around anymore?"
Ramius looked at me with a harder gaze.
"You can't say anything," she said. "I know it isn't pleasant, but letting this get out"—Ramius hesitated—"It doesn't do anything for anyone. It just stokes fear. The world already walks a tight string. What if people knowing about these incidents brought about more broken triggers?"
And…shit. I didn't think about that.
Trauma causes triggers. Stress leads to trauma. Did it work that way? If people knew any trigger could just explode and envelope everyone around them at a moments notice without warning…
No wonder heroes spend all their time punching villains. It's so much fucking simpler.
"All we can do is live in the present," Ramius continued. "Do what we think is right, and if we find out it was a mistake, then we'll waste time moaning about it then. And we'll go right on to the next thing."
She didn't sound proud when she said it. She didn't sound happy. Determined. Convicted.
"That's all there is to it."
"And if she ever wakes up? What does she do then after the PRT labels her a villain?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't."
I scowled. "And you're okay with that?"
"It's not about whether or not I'm okay with it. The world needs the PRT, so maybe I tolerate things I don't like. I do the job that lets me make a difference."
"Turning innocent children into villains?"
"Working with people who don't have anyone else." My shoulder's tensed. Ramius tilted her head slightly to one side, saying, "I've done this more than once. You're never going to join the Wards."
I didn't answer. Not sure what exactly to answer with. The arrangement seemed to be that Ramius would try to buddy up with me. Get me onto the team by being nice and supportive.
If she didn't think that would happen, "Then why?"
"Because half of the nation's independent heroes are dead in six months. Of those who aren't, another half are dead within three years. Another in five. Outside of the Protectorate or a corporate team, maybe five percent of capes live ten years. Something I think you've already accepted."
Yes. "I knew when I started I wouldn't live to a ripe old age."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just not likely."
"And you're happy with accepting that?"
My brow went up under my visor.
"Don't." She offered me a smile, saying, "You won't be able to change anything if you're dead."
How did she know enough about me to say something like that? I met her one time, and we never really talked about me. My PRT file? The version I saw just said redacted, but the one for StarGazer was loaded with psychological stuff. Worthless stuff sure, but I doubt "she's an AI created by Newtype" would ever be anyone's first guess.
"Do what you think is right," Ramius continued. "I'll be here to help."
Is everyone psychic today? "And why would the PRT give me a helper?"
"Because the PRT doesn't do what it does because it likes seeing people suffer. If you can really reach a point that tinker tech is just science, then the world becomes a better place." She shrugged and smiled. "Be a shame if you died before you got to see it through."
I didn't believe that.
Well…Maybe I believed Ramius. The way she talked, it felt earnest. Like she really, really meant it. She reminded me of mom, which wasn't a comparison I liked no matter who she was.
But the PRT? Fat chan—
Stop making choices out of spite for everyone who's ever wronged you.
I frowned. Did I need to think of those words—in her voice no less—every time now?
"Right," I mumbled.
Not a good response. Not even close, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.
Glancing to the school, and desperate to switch to a topic, I asked, "What about all this?"
Ramius got the message I think. I felt like an idiot so obviously trying to change gear. "Hard to say until the Director can get involved. There was some talk about bringing in Optics at the Rig."
"Optics?"
"A Ward in Baltimore. A Tinker. Specializes in surveillance. She's young though. Younger than Vista." Vista couldn't be older than thirteen. When did this girl trigger? "Piggot would need to get involved."
That, might work. A tinker with the exact specialty to maybe counter a power that didn't want to be seen.
Actually, could I work some way around it?
Easy enough to see the trigerees with a thermal camera, but doctors and nurses couldn't operate or do anything delicate with that. Maybe the ultrasonic cameras?
"I might try working something out," I said.
Ramius smiled. "I'll be ready to listen to anything you think may help."
And my phone started ringing.
"Do you want to answer that?" Ramius asked.
"Not particularly."
"Without any ulterior motive, I will say that in my experience half the Wards are Wards because managing their parents and their powers was too difficult."
"I'm starting to see why."
"Well, you could come by the Rig if you wanted. The way Prism tells it, Parian wants to thank you for helping her. Chariot as well."
Oh right them! "What's going to happen to them?"
Ramius shook her head.
"You need the Director?" I asked.
"Yes, and none of them are Protectorate or Ward members. Some of them might join. Some of them might move out of the city. I don't know. For now they're safe."
I nodded.
Meanwhile, my phone continued ringing. "I should probably just answer this."
Ramius nodded and turned on her heel. I walked away a bit, standing close to the wall and keeping my phone close.
Had this hit the news yet? Did Blackwell call Dad before or after I wasn't "present?"
I'm going to be grounded for life.
I pulled my phone up and looked at the screen.
What?
I hit answer and held the phone up.
"Charlotte?"
"Taylor?!"
"Shh!" I glanced around, which was silly. The volume wasn't that high and no one was particularly close to me.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "Where are you?"
What the hell? "Yeah, I'm alright. I—"
Her voice grew a little distant, like she'd lowered her phone. "I got her Ms. Blackwell. She's okay." I flinched, and Charlotte's voice grew closer again. "Are you still inside the school? Mrs. Knott couldn't find you."
"Oh. I—Um. Right. I was in the bathroom. And when—"
"You ran out when the alarms started?"
"Yes, yes I ran out when the alarms started. That is what I did."
"Did you see Newtype?"
Blackwell's voice lingered in the background, her tone chiding.
"Right, right. Sorry. Um. They're trying to make sure all the students are accounted for. Where are you?"
I looked around. "Where are you?"
"We're out behind the school. By the track field."
"I'm on the other side of the building." Charlotte thought fast, thank god. "I'm not sure I can get to you. There's cops and ambulances everywhere."
Charlotte repeated my words.
"Give me the phone Ms. Berman."
"Ma'am."
"Ms. Hebert."
I made sure to let a slight edge sink into my voice. Had to maintain appearances.
"Yes?"
"Needless to say the school day is canceled. Return to your home. The staff and I will be calling parents to inform them of events."
"Right," I said. "I'll do that."
There was a shuffling and a few distant words. I stayed on the line, long enough to hear Charlotte ask, "What happened?!"
"It's…complicated."
"I heard people got hurt."
"They did."
I lowered my phone and raised my head.
Nothing more for me to do here.
I didn't like that. Felt incomplete. Like I was walking away from a project half done, but what else could I do? I didn't have a hospital in my garage. The capes except for Laughter were safe, and without the Haros I didn't have the means to locate her.
Finish repairs to O Gundam.
I could do that for now. Finish getting the armor on so I could use it if anything happened. Maybe finish patching up that hole in the Level Seven protocol.
Not flashy, but productive.
Turning down the street I lifted the phone back to my ear.
"There's nothing you can do about it now. Go home, Charlotte."
"Okay."
"And thank you. At least now I won't take the fall for skipping school. I was here almost the whole time."
