Step 4.8

"It's that important?" Charlotte asked.

"It won't take long."

"Um. Okay, I guess? You did say we should go out for coffee or something."

I lifted my head. "I did say that." I forgot.

Forgot a lot of things the past week.

"I'll see you there," I said.

"Okay. Cya."

I set my phone down. I needed to talk to Charlotte sooner rather than later, and a coffee date worked as well as anything else.

For the moment though, I dished up my breakfast and grabbed a fork. It's nice to just sit down and enjoy the little things.

Fresh eggs and crispy bacon, for example.

My mask still sat on the kitchen table, the visor turned directly at me. Is that poetic? There's a metaphor about leaving things on the kitchen table isn't there?

Maybe I imagined that.

"You promised to fix the phone." Dad dropped the wreckage on the kitchen table before sitting down.

And sometimes the world just tells you to fucking deal with it.

Setting my fork aside, I picked the case up and looked it over. The receiver got out in one piece, but the phone itself looked like someone took a lightsaber to it.

"In my defense," I replied, "if you hadn't spent the first hour trying to call the PRT, I wouldn't have needed to break anything."

Dad's face still looked red, even with all the shouting hours behind us. "It was uncalled for and childish."

"Not even giving me ten minutes to have a say was uncalled for and childish."

I always figured Dad would push the Wards line once he found out, but I never expected him to jump right in without even listening to me.

"And when I said I'd fix it"—I reached into my pocket—"I meant this one."

Holding up the busted old thing that once sat on the kitchen wall, I added, "Fixing this is more expensive than buying a new one. They're like ten bucks at Shop n'Save. I'll replace it."

Dad flinched, apparently only then remembering I'd mentioned having my own bank accounts and money. The funds might be stretched thin, but I could afford replacing a phone.

He took his rebuilt cell phone, which I also might have destroyed, and turned it over. He tested the screen and the ringer. Naturally, both worked perfectly.

"You've got free Wi-Fi by the way," I said. "As long as you're within ten miles of a Fugly Bob's, government office, or anywhere else with free Wi-Fi."

Basically everywhere.

Dad blinked. "Well…that's, nice?"

"And if you want to get to work on time, you'll need to replace your spark plugs."

Dad frowned. "What did you do to my spark plugs?"

I reached into my other pocket and dropped them on the table.

Dad stared.

"I had to be sure you weren't going to drive down to the HQ building and start signing papers while I slept."

I ate a piece of bacon.

He kept staring. "So you removed my spark plugs?"

"You'd prefer I solve the truck problem the same way I solved the phone problem?"

I lifted the ruined phone for emphasis.

He shook his head. "When did you even—"

"After I EMP'd your cell phone but before you realized it wasn't working anymore and ran back into the kitchen." I leaned to the side and looked at the kitchen counter. "I'll replace the microwave too. And the toaster."

"What happened to the toaster?!"

I pointed at his cell phone.

You know, when I first triggered, I knew I'd destroy our appliances.

Somehow.

A shame the living room suffered too. Angry ranting ran in the family after all. We ended up breaking a bookshelf, and smashing up the couch. Well. I did that. Dad's the one who broke the TV.

"It's your fault," I pointed out. "Not even ten minutes and you were shouting 'You're joining the Wards.' I even said, let me explain first, and you didn't let me."

"Let's not start again Taylor." Dad raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You won, didn't you?"

"And don't you forget it."

And I stuffed some eggs in my mouth.

Victory eggs.

I admit, it did sort of work out. We shouted and screamed. Dad hit the wall. I wanted to explain to him, but he didn't give me the chance. Some appliances got destroyed. Eventually, he ran out of avenues to go behind my back.

I managed to get him to just sit down and listen.

He got angry again of course.

I told him about Trigger Events. That you get powers after the worst day of your life. Not sure why he responded so poorly. Obviously, it was awful, but he already knew about the locker.

Why did this make it so much worse?

Took far longer to make him understand, at least that I couldn't join the Wards. I couldn't be on the same team as Sophia, and I didn't need to be. I'd have preferred to point out I already fought Oni Lee and Bakuda without major injury, but I didn't want to call attention to that.

"It's almost time for work by the way." I pointed my fork at the clock.

"Oh no." Dad put his hands on the table. "No. I'm not going anywhere today. You might have won on the PRT, but we still need to talk."

My mouth stopped mid chew.

"You're ruining my victory eggs."

He gave me an even stare. "Deal with it."

Fucking figures.

"Dinah is StarGazer isn't she?"

I sighed.

"Dad, the first rule of cape parent club, is that you never ask that question."

Not that I didn't want people making that assumption. To an extent. I might have told Dad a lot, but I conspicuously left out Veda and Dinah.

I wasn't quite ready to tell him I mothered into the world its first machine intelligence. Dinah's secret, frankly, he didn't need to know. If she wanted to tell him it was her choice.

"Dinah is just a middle schooler who needs tutoring. Lots of tutoring. Okay?"

He didn't look convinced.

"I explained the unwritten rules, right?"

"Yes."

"Well then. How, within the bounds of those rules, am I even allowed to answer that question?"

Dad sighed. "Fine."

"Fine." I fucking hate that word. "Look. Let's say, we're both unfortunate, and I get outed. You"—I pointed my fork at him—"get kidnapped. What's the first thing the super villain asks?"

Dad raised his brow. "I'd never tell the—"

"No. See, you don't have to tell them. Maybe it's a stranger who can look like anyone and they pretend to be me rescuing you. Maybe a master and they can just make you say." Thinking of another example, I added, "Or maybe they're a blond know-it-all who likes to screw with me."

"That last one sounded personal…"

"Tattletale is a bitch. Point is, the less you know, the better off you are. If you can't tell anyone who anyone else is, or where I build my toys, then all you have to do is survive long enough for me to smash in a wall and save you."

I looked forward and started on my last piece of bacon.

"Also, your phone has a GPS tracker in it."

Dad groaned. "Of course it does."

"Keep talking like that and you don't get a stun grenade disguised as a flash light."

"I'd rather have a lightsaber."

"And I'd rather you didn't eviscerate yourself."

Dad frowned. "You're not supposed to be the one protecting me, kiddo."

I shrugged. "Welcome to a world turned upside down."

I got it. Dad stuff, right? Dads protected their family. The truth was Danny Hebert couldn't anymore. The enemy lay far beyond his reach.

"No one attacks Wards," he pointed out.

Yeah. Dad promised not to do anything without telling me.

Didn't mean we agreed.

"Wards don't get attacked because Wards don't do anything," I pointed right back. "I'm not going to sit on the back burner for two and a half years when I could be making a difference."

Dad scowled. "You sound like your mother."

"More people should."

Dad leaned back in his chair, hand gripping the table edge. "It seems so obvious now. You tried to tell me, didn't you?"

"A few times."

"And you didn't trust me?"

The guilt stirred. I avoided eye contact, not really wanting to feel guilty for doing what I needed to do.

"I didn't know what to say, or how you'd react." I pushed my empty plate away. "I don't have a choice now. Blue Cosmos is going to show up and we need to play along."

It sounded cruel, but truth rings as truth regardless of its pleasantness. I promised not to lie anymore. You know. About some things.

"And this Ramius person is going to make sure the PRT settles?"

"She said so," I said. "I believe her. I don't really see how the PRT gains from lying to me about it."

There were easier ways now to box me in if they wanted to play dirty. Maybe I let a little too much hope in, but that felt kind of nice. I hadn't felt so light in months. No point hiding myself from the PRT. They knew. I'd know soon enough if Ramius really dealt with Winslow.

I remembered asking Dinah about Blackwell. She did give it fifty-fifty odds the woman got fired within the month.

"Did she say how much? I know you want to keep this quiet, but they could be tricking you into accepting anything."

"The word she used was, 'egregiously' generous?"

Something like that. Honestly, I didn't care about the money. I'd be happy with something being done about the guilty. With time, I didn't even care how. As long as something happened.

"The PRT wants Newtype to be their friend. I don't have to join up, just play nice. That's fine with me."

Dad frowned, saying, "Isn't that a little manipulative?"

"Have you ever met a man named Thomas Calvert?"

"No."

"I'll spin you a yarn about manipulative."

I didn't buy that story for a second. I struggled to imagine anyone making it to Deputy Director being as complacent as Ramius described. I'd talked to him twice, and both times he felt off. Beyond that, he just rubbed me the wrong way.

I didn't notice it at the time, but the way he talked back after the Simurgh attack…It nagged at me as time went on.

A snake in the grass. Or a fox. Whatever sneaky animal of choice.

Forget it for now. It'll be done soon.

There were more important things to focus on now.

"I know you're angry, kiddo. But, I can't just let you—"

"I'm not angry," I said. "Not anymore. Not like that. I'm disappointed."

"Disappointed?"

"It's not what they're supposed to be." Not what they pretend to be. "There are things I can't tell you. Things I've learned or seen. Did you know Armsmaster is a gigantic asshole? I swear every time I see the guy he's trying to bully me."

"Still wrapping my head around my daughter knowing Armsmaster," Dad replied.

I wanted to be more, didn't I? Didn't really work out did it? Ambushed by capes unexpectedly. Twice. My intentions continually foiled.

Nothing to be gained wallowing over it, but it's not exactly encouraging.

"I'm going to make my own way," I insisted. "You can try and force me into the Wards if you want, but…"

"I know." Dad looked away from me. "You'll just leave, won't you?"

I didn't intend to make that threat. It felt like a child's response. Do what I want, or I'll run away. It worked oddly enough.

Such a despicable thing to say. Dad already lost mom. Losing me would break him, but to have me walk out on him then, would he hate me?

"I'm sorry I said that."

"But you meant it."

I nodded.

"I can't lose you, kiddo."

"You might. In the Wards. The Protectorate. On my own. I told you the statistics."

"You did."

"That's just the way it is now, Dad. People who do what I do don't live to an old age."

"Alexandria is still around. Legend. Hero."

"I'm not saying I'm going to just go and die." Being ready to die and wanting die weren't the same thing. "But you can't save me by running to the PRT."

"So you've said," he replied.

I turned to him. "You promised."

"I'm not the best father, Taylor"—he closed his eyes and scrunched his face up—"but I'm not a liar."

No. I suppose he wasn't. Unhappy or otherwise, he'd never lied to my face. Still.

He said it like a man really fighting his conscience.

We weren't done. Not yet.

"I have to go talk to Charlotte."

"The other girl Emma bullied?" Dad asked.

I nodded. "She deserves a say in what happens next."

"What if she wants something other than what you want?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead, honestly.

"I'll deal with it when I come to it."

I got up and pulled my backpack from the hall closet. Hadn't used it lately, but I needed to get my mask back to the workshop.

"And don't go calling the PRT behind my back."

"I won't," Dad said. "And if you do anything dangerous, you'll tell me?"

"I will. But there's nothing dangerous about a coffee shop on the Boardwalk."

I think he wanted to say more. I waited, but the world doesn't change in a day. I guess things don't change that fast. It bothered me, but this was progress wasn't it? Of a sort?

I saw us talking more as time permitted. We'd figure it out.

"I'll be back in a bit."

Once outside the house, I pulled out my phone.

sys.t/ keep an eye on him?

sys.v/ I will

I told myself I needed certainty. I needed to watch out for him now, in case anyone from Blue Cosmos or the PRT tried anything funny. Unintentionally—It was a moment of passion—destroying his phone came with some fringe benefits.

I didn't go straight to the Boardwalk.

First, I stopped by the Workshop.

"Hey Green."

His one good ear flapped.

"He-zzt H-ach-ro."

I left him there all night while I dealt with Dad and got some sleep. His gyro looked completely shot. He couldn't even move, and his voice box clearly didn't work right.

"Give me a sec and I'll fix you up."

I set my bag down and stared at the table.

All my tools were in one place?

My tools were never in one place.

Orange and Red sat on O Gundam's shoulders, their hands removing the antennas from the head. Purple assembled rockets at her work station, and Navy and Pink were out keeping an eye on things.

Which of the—Did it matter?

I smiled and pulled up my chair.

"What happened with the girls?" I asked.

"The bus stopped once on the way to Hartford," Veda explained. "I accessed an available security camera to observe the driver refill the vehicle. No one else exited or boarded the vehicle."

My arm tensed a little. "And then?"

"The bus continued to the given address. No cameras allowed me to observe what occurred."

"Where did the bus go afterward?"

"A Turbines distribution center. It is still there."

What if I messed up? It's possible. God, I'd messed up a lot this past week.

"Can you start looking into the company?" I asked. "Search them. I want to be sure."

"Building protocols."

Maybe I judged the Protectorate too harshly. And not just because Tattletale said something.

I fell into the same trap so easily. Focusing on defense, reaction to action. And the world needed that maybe, but that's not why I put on a mask.

I wanted to be proactive.

Go right at the gangs. Hit them where it hurt, not where PR thought it might generate good responses. Where they couldn't endure. If I kept at their money, guns and drugs, they'd fold eventually. Or kill me. Whichever came first.

I needed to get back to that.

I said I wanted to remove Othalla from play. Cripple the Empire in one swoop by taking away the person who let them leverage their numbers the way they did. Completely alter the balance of power in the city in a way that favored the good guys. Less violence on the street. Less strength behind the criminals.

That was as valid now as when I first set my eyes on it.

I let myself become distracted.

But the problem remained.

What if I went after Othalla, and Kaiser threatened to kill Trevor or Parian? Even if it didn't happen right away, when I pressed them, pushed them to the breaking point, who did the rules really protect?

Orange brought me the ball once the fabricator finished with it.

"Okay. All done."

Only Green's CPU core survived in the end. Every other part needed to be stripped and replaced. Veda pulled Green's code and stored it for the thirty minutes I needed to assemble his new ball.

"Start the download," I said.

It only took a few seconds.

I connected the power supply and double checked the new self-destruct device. Cruel, but I didn't need anyone learning anything by capturing a Haro.

"How is the backup system?"

"Backup complete," Veda answered. "Next backup, minus eleven hours fifty-nine minutes."

And I could just reload any of them from that, even if their ball ended up blowing apart.

Maybe I'd gotten more attached than I intended.

I turned the power on and closed the ball.

"Green? You okay?"

"Hello hello!"

His ears rose. Right, then left. He tested his hands, and then jumped off the table to spin on the floor.

"Good as new. Good as new!"

I didn't even bother trying to fix that anymore.

"Feeling okay?" I asked.

"Fine! Fine!"

I frowned.

"You're doing that on purpose," I mumbled.

"Yes yes no no."

"You little troll!"

I got up, but Green rolled under the table and away.

"You—"

Purple turned for a moment, then went back to her work. Orange and Red jumped down from O Gundam's shoulders and started circling Green.

"Big brother's okay okay!" They chirped.

Big Brother?

I didn't know they recognized one another that way.

I sat down, watching as the Haros played. Little slackers.

"Fabricate parts so I can upgrade all the Haros. I'll do it as I have time."

"Task to queue."

"Dad isn't up to anything, right?"

"Negative."

Okay. Settle down paranoia. Dad said he wouldn't call them behind my back, and as much as happened between us, he never lied to me.

"I'll be back. It's time to talk to Charlotte."

As I got up, I remembered.

"Am I still grounded?" I asked.

"It was not discussed."

Well, he didn't stop me from leaving the house. So, not grounded? I stopped at the door, turning back and shouting, "And you three better get some work done!"

"Trouble! Trouble!"

I left with a small smile.

The Boardwalk seemed fitting enough. The shops and cafes were nice, and usually fairly spacious. Easy to have a talk without being overheard.

I texted her as I approached, and she quickly replied.

We met not that far from the Doll House. I never noticed, but Charlotte looks good in a dress, though I didn't think Yellow was her color.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Charlotte rocked back on one foot, "So, what's so important?"

I nodded to the cafe.

"We should talk inside."

Laze-Latte. Not the worst name. Better than Cup of Joe, the place on the opposite side of the Boardwalk.

She got a mocha latte, and I got some tea. Hadn't had any tea in a long time. Soothing stuff.

I explained what I could while avoiding names or specifics. Charlotte knew enough to fit those pieces in. I talked about our bullies, and the authorities. I already knew Charlotte wasn't stupid.

I repeated a lot what Ramius said word for word. I told the truth about Shadow Stalker too. It didn't invoke the same reaction from me as before.

In retrospect, maybe it fit her crime better. Just being sent to juvie meant she'd get out in a few years. Being dragged into shit detail by the Protectorate, and kept there, maybe for as long as she wore a mask?

It's basically a life sentence.

Charlotte did little more than turn her cup in her hands as I reached the end, telling her about the lawsuit and what I feared might happen if it went though.

"I want to settle," I explained. "It'll keep everything out of the news. I don't really want the attention."

She nodded.

"Did…Did I say something confusing?"

"No."

Charlotte glanced out the window. People went about their lives, completely oblivious to any emotional turmoil on the other side of the glass.

"They hurt you too, and others, but we suffered the worst of it. And you only ended up there because I left instead of dealing with it then."

If I said something to Miss Militia back then, would they have done something? I assumed so easily they wouldn't. Now, maybe they only acted because the threat of Teacher forced them to, but me and my paranoia, right?

So many of my assumptions ended up wrong.

Irony that I kept mocking others for doing the same. Karma indeed.

"I don't want to take this choice away from you Charlotte."

She smiled solemnly. "I wish it never happened."

"Me too."

"I'm being transferred to Arcadia."

"I know. My, um, friend apparently made it happen."

"Some friend."

"A little too late for me.".

"Too late?"

I shrugged. "I don't need school. I know there's the whole socializing angle to it, but I honestly don't care. I've had enough high school bullshit for one life."

"I don't think Arcadia will be like Winslow."

"No. But it will still have cliques. Popular kids and unpopular kids. Even if the staff doesn't let bullies run roughshod over the building, I'm sure there's still a lot of it."

I shook my head. "I'm done with that. "I set out to resolve our problem. It didn't go the way I planned, but it's being resolved now. I did what I set out to do."

Charlotte nodding. She watched the people for a while, sipping at her coffee.

"I'll be okay." She smiled. "I'll miss Mrs. Knott. I'm not into BC like she is now, but she's not a bad person, right?"

"Maybe."

Jury's still out.

In a way, it's kind of her fault things got so complicated. She told Blue Cosmos after all. But that just felt absurd. I wanted people to act, didn't I? Maybe it didn't work well, but she tried. It's more than anyone else did up until Ramius came to town.

It should count for something.

"Do what you need to do, Taylor. My Dad will probably blow a gasket when Blue Cosmos shows up, but I'll make it work."

She gripped her coffee and smiled.

"I want to get on with my life."

"Me too."

"I don't care about the money. I mean, it's nice and all but I'll be okay with the bullying over. Maybe when I'm an old lady I can tell my grandkids about how I knew N—" She stopped herself short. "You know."

I nodded.

Charlotte leaned forward. "You're smiling."

I flinched. "I am?"

"It's okay. You're kind of prettier when you smile."

"You don't have to tease me."

"I'm not. You are prettier when you smile. I mean, when you frown it's all like—blargh."

I—"What is that face?"

"What you look like when you frown." She pointed at my face. "I mean, when you've got you-know-what on"—she held her hands over her face—"it kind of works, but when it's just you it seems like a waste, you know?"

I turned my side to her. "I don't know what you're talking about." And I sipped my tea.

Charlotte giggled, and I chastised myself. Is she joking like Stratos and the troopers, or picking on me like Emma? No. She wouldn't do that. What reason would she have? Because she didn't need my help anymore.

"I'm kind of sad you won't be at Arcadia."

I glanced to her from the corner of my eye. "Why?"

She shrugged. "It's hard being the new kid, right? And I'm kind of scared, I guess. What if I make friends and it happens all over again?"

Oh. Right. I'm not so special. Not in that regard. "I don't really know how to make friends anymore either."

"You seem to be getting a few anyway."

"Who?"

She shrugged.

"You know who. The one who likes computers, and the ones who are computers? And then there's the other one helping you with the bullying thing, and others I'm sure." Charlotte grinned. "And I'd like to think we're something like friends, even if we're not close. You're not so alone, Taylor."

Despite its name, Laze-Latte served very good tea.

You can tell because I drank it really fast. "Sorry about calling you out here for this."

"Changing the subject?"

"No. Apologizing."

"Sure you are. Have any plans tonight?"

"Not really."

"Well. I won't keep you then. I'll call you if—When, any lawyers show up to talk to my parents."

I nodded. "Me too."

I paid first and got up. If I hurried I could get some more work done before going home and talking more with Dad.

I stopped. Everyone was looking at something.

And I mean everyone.

If I weren't so tall I'd have needed to work my way through the crowd to see, but I saw her over the heads of the crowd.

Parian.

Or rather, Sabah.

She walked along the boardwalk, talking to the blond girl from before with a smile on her face.

They were quite the contrast.

The blonde wore a frilly top and short denim skirt with high boots. Bright colors, with a red headband holding her hair back. Meanwhile Sabah wore a loose fitting black dress that showed no skin and one of those head wraps that only showed her face.

I forget the word for it. Burqa? No, that's the one that covers the face.

A pair of Enforcers in suits trailed them, eyes scanning the crowd.

She's just out in public like that? After getting outed?

A few people in the crowd took pictures with their phones. Some I remembered from when I'd arrived. Had they been standing around waiting the whole time?

sys.t/ Veda

sys.t/ how often has Parian come to the boardwalk?

sys.v/ daily

sys.v/ should I have said something?

sys.t/ has anything happened?

sys.v/ no

sys.v/ she goes to her store for a few hours

sys.v/ then she returns to her home

I stepped aside with the rest of the crowd as she passed. She turned into her shop, paying the crowd and the occasional shout no mind. Both Enforcers took positions by the door, one telling everyone to move along and stop holding up the walkways.

Is she crazy?

sys.t/ I need a Haro to bring me my costume

I worked my way into the alleys behind the store front. Green flew down from above, my bag hanging from Purple's cradle.

Right. I needed to rebuild his cradle too.

Maybe make it more bomb resistant.

I looked up and down the alley, and had Veda check for cameras, before changing.

The Enforcers didn't look nearly as happy to see me as the onlookers.

"I just want to make sure she's doing alright," I said.

"And we're literally paid to make sure she isn't pestered," the Enforcer on my left insisted.

A young guy, dark skin, shaved head. If I didn't know better I'd say he'd fit in with the Empire.

"Unless you have business, I'll have to ask you to leave."

Well, I couldn't fault them for doing their jobs.

The door cracked open, and the blonde—Louise—poked her head out.

She waved at me.

"Hello!" She glanced to the Enforcers, saying, "Sabah says she's okay to come in."

The two men glanced to me. "If she's sure."

"Oh it'll be fine. You worry too much. That's why you're going bald!"

I'm pretty sure he just shaved his head.

The two men shrugged, and soundly ignored me as Louise let me in. The shop looked exactly like it did before, save for a few new mannequins set up along the far wall.

And the flying rolls of thread.

Don't remember those being there.

Parian sat on a tall stool, the strings moving around her and knitting themselves to the mannequins behind her.

"I wanted to thank you," she said. "I was getting some weird looks at school, and until you warned me I didn't know why. I was able to warn my father, and he got the rest of my family to the house and then the PRT took them to the rig."

She smiled. "Thanks."

That's…a warm feeling. "It was the right thing to do."

"Very heroic of you. What brings you by?"

Oh. Right. I kind of just rushed in here.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't know you were coming into your shop."

"There's talk of a few events being moved here from Boston. I might be seeing some work come my way, and my costume's a little obsolete so I'm brain storming a new one."

"And I'm helping!" Louise declared.

I glanced to the mannequins, but the garments looked like lingerie. I doubt she intended to wear anything like that as a costume, so I figured that's just how clothes started to come together

"The Protectorate is going to let you keep doing that?"

She tilted her head to one side, asking, "Why wouldn't they? I've been a rogue my entire cape career. I'm not really doing anything I haven't done before."

"I—" Reconsidering her words, I asked, "You're not joining?"

Sabah shook her head.

"The Director wouldn't promise me I'd never be forced to fight, and honestly, I wasn't thrilled before that either. Even if I don't fight anyone, the Protectorate still would. I don't want to be part of that."

Right. Parian opposed cape violence.

"A shame." She gave a light laugh. "They talked about putting me in PR. I'd finally get to do something with all my costume ideas."

Still. "You're out. Everyone knows."

She shrugged. "I planned on outing myself eventually anyway." What?! "It just happened sooner than expected."

Louise dragged a chair into the middle of the room. She sat down and sighed. "I don't get it either. Something about people assuming things."

"Ever since I first appeared, everyone assumed I must be white," Sabah elaborated. "I didn't even wear a blond wig in the first iteration of my costume but everyone just took it as a given. I was going to take my mask off to make everyone think about that."

"You"—my jaw slackened—"You were going to unmask yourself, to make a point about social awareness?"

"That's what I said," Louise said.

"It makes more sense when you're"—she started raising fingers—"Female, Iraqi, gay, Muslim, and socially conscious."

Louise frowned. "That last one was pointed at me wasn't it?"

Sabah smiled. "Of course not. Why would I ever suggest the girl who borrows her boyfriend's car just because it's nicer than hers is playing into gendered stereotypes?"

"It's a really nice car!"

Sabah rolled her eyes. "Well. It is nice."

"And you're still not worried about villains?" I asked.

She planned to unmask all along? Didn't she remember what happened to New Wave? Fleur? Grue's sister got attacked just a few days ago and she wasn't even a cape. And not just the villains, but the rest. Any of them could do it.

A cape over in Providence got gunned down on her school bus.

"Of course, I am," Sabah answered. "I just have to hope the unwritten rules matter as much as people say they do."

"The unwritten rules aren't that solid."

"I suppose not, but if someone wants to break them, then are they really rules at all?" Sabah shook her head. "It is what it is. I'm not going to stop living my life over it."

"Your family?" I asked.

"I know." She leaned forward, resting her jaw to her palm. "But, you know that sad part?" She looked past me, but not at the scene beyond the window. "Is it really any different than before?"

"When I had a mask, all the Empire did was chase me. My brothers got teased in school. People said cruel things to my sisters because we wear Hijabs. My mother gets stared at going to the store, and my dad has to be careful on the bus back from work because the Empire hates a brown guy in a suit."

She hung her head slightly. "The truth is that it's not really any more dangerous than before. Not for us. It won't change anything hiding in a corner praying the nightmares away."

Oh wow.

My hands twitched at my side, a sort of odd chill slowly rising in my chest.

I can do that.

They do say the best plans are the simple ones.

"Is something wrong?" Sabah asked.

"Oh." I shook my head. "Sorry. Just…thinking."

She smiled. One of the dresses behind her starting to take shape. White with black lines.

"Want anything to drink?" she asked. "I'm going to be here working for a while."

"No. Thank you. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"As alright as can be expected," she said. "Sorry for getting a little depressing on you. It's not really that bad."

Louise waved her hand. "Eh. It's sort of that bad. Sometimes."

"It doesn't happen every day.".

"That it happens at all kind of says a lot, Sabah."

"I'm sorry it's hard on you."

"It's not your fault."

Yes it is. "I should go. I have things to take care of."

"You should drop by again," she offered. "Mostly, it's just been Prism but, having another cape to talk to is kind of nice. Feel a little silly for never doing it before."

I glanced over my shoulder, asking, "What about neutrality?"

"I think the Empire doesn't need much excuse at this stage." She shrugged. "Screw them. I can talk to whoever I want."

What does it say the pacifist is the bravest person I've ever met?

What does it say about me…

My foot tapped against the bus floor. I ignored the pointed stare from the other occupants, my mind absorbed in thought.

I needed to get back to why I started this. Stay focused. Fight the gangs, make the bay a better place. Don't become absorbed in fear or uncertainty. Those things didn't help. And yet, I still felt the fear and uncertainty.

But if someone wants to break them, then are they really rules at all?

If no one enforced the rules, then they only existed when convenient, right?

So what does it take to enforce the rules?

My foot stopped.

sys.t/ Veda, is Level Seven still open?

sys.v/ yes

sys.v/ why?

The first time I went out in O Gundam, I said I didn't want to be afraid anymore. There really is nothing to fear, but fear itself.

Cast that aside, and what's left?

sys.t/ give me numbers

sys.t/ how many ABB capes are in level seven?

sys.v/ 2

sys.t/ Merchants?

sys.v/ 3

sys.t/ Empire?

sys.v/ 10

And I knew more than that, didn't I? I knew about Medhall. I knew about stash locations. Fronts. Bank accounts. Smuggling routes. I knew the names and identities of their non-powered henchmen and lieutenants.

Heroes can do more than just punch bad guys, right?

If no one plays by the rules, then are they really rules?

And why not? It's all on them in the end. The villains liked to play fast and loose. Why should the dead and the dying be the only ones to suffer? Maybe it wouldn't work on a group like the Teeth, but on any of the gangs in Brockton Bay?

I think they valued their secrets a fair bit.

sys.v/ you are worrying me

sys.t/ sorry

sys.t/ take care of some things for me?

I gave Veda some basic instructions. After getting off the bus I found a place to change. Green retrieved my costume, bringing my original clothes with him.

I got back into the house just a little past noon. Dad was in the garage, the hood of his truck propped up with a crowbar and spark plugs arrayed on the engine block.

"I'm back."

Dad raised his head. "Oh. Hey, kiddo. I'd hug you or something, but"—he raised his smudged hands—"black stuff."

"That's okay." I hesitated for a moment. He didn't need to know, right? "So…There are about twenty five villains in Brockton Bay."

"Mhm."

I did promise to say something if I planned to do anything dangerous. Lying is so much heavier than the truth.

"I'm going to blackmail them."

Dad looked back at me.

"Not even one day, Taylor?"

I shrugged.

He sighed.

"Let me get a beer."