Step 4.10

I hit the ground with eight minutes left on my timer.

"Operation complete," Veda announced.

I smiled.

Three days, four runs.

I'd never been more productive.

I didn't have to work around Dad anymore.

I could attack the gangs as frequently as O Gundam's maintenance allowed. That translates to "frequently." Or rather, as frequently as my budget allowed.

And I'll worry about my bank account later.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars in guns and drugs destroyed. Three illicit betting establishments wrecked, maybe forty career criminals arrested, and a drug lab reduced to cinders. The gangs might replace most of that, but it cost money. Money that went down the drain because of me.

"Get the Haros back to the Workshop," I ordered.

The chest plate slid up, and I climbed down. Mechanical arms grabbed my suit and lifted it into the van. I'd need a new pickup point soon. Once summer hit some of the mountain resorts—even the winter ones—would start hosting camps and retreats.

Getting into the passenger seat, I pulled my phone from my pocket.

"Wonder how the Empire is taking it?"

Watching the aftermath is a good way to kill time on an hour long drive back into the city.

ReleasetheHounds: we cant keep doing this
Lt: no we can't
SttN: she threatened to out us
LayonHands: only if we break the rules
Lt: then we all best make sure we dont
Lt: and that goes for your sections too
Lt: everyone make sure your people are in line
Lt: losing our police resources is already hurting
Lt: We cant afford any rash action

That reminded me.

"All those cops are still alive, right?"

"Yes. Officer White"—I know right?—"was attacked by a group of African American men last night on the way to his cell, however."

"How is he?" I asked with a frown.

"Minor lacerations," Veda answered.

"Hmm."

I never expected the police to work so fast.

Between the brief Blue Cosmos protest and all the other outrage, nearly every cop I named as being on the Empire's take found themselves in a cell within the day.

"Are the men who attacked him associated with one of the other gangs?"

"The South Street Kingz. A small gang outside the city. No affiliation with any known parahumans."

Well then…

The whole point was to punish the Empire for Aisha, and make a clear message.

No hiding behind the unpowered.

If an associate of a parahuman gang attacked anyone, I'd consider it a violation of the rules by their parahuman bosses. Unfortunately, while I could namedrop Krieg and threaten the Empire into not killing their exposed "police resources" that didn't mean I could protect the men from everyone else.

They might be dirty cops, and I'd rather they got hurt than someone innocent if someone had to get hurt, but I didn't want them dead.

I hoped the Empire might go out of their way to ensure the men survived. Aryan Nation ranked among the biggest prison gangs in the US. They'd probably help the Empire out, but I hadn't seen anyone reach out yet.

Veda pulled onto the highway, and I glanced back to my phone.

Lt: I'll meet with HM
Lt: we need to adjust our strategy

And please, text it when you're done.

The phone rang, and for once I hit accept.

"Taylor?"

Oh Dad. "I'm okay. Not even a scratch."

"Just…making sure."

"There's not a cape in the city who can catch me, Dad." And now I know that Purity is in Boston.

"Yeah," Dad grumbled. "Yeah, I know."

"I'll be home soon. Just have to drive back into the city."

"Alright."

I hung up and got back to watching the life and times of Nazi capes.

Amazing how much time villains spend on mundane things.

LayonHands: tonight at eight?
JackofTrades: the italian place you like
LayonHands: its a little old fashion
JackofTrades: you like old fashion
JackofTrades: someone will need to watch you know who
ReleasetheHounds: I'll do it
ReleasetheHounds: got some furniture that needs moving
SttN: furniture to move?
SttN: just what I look for in my day (save me)
LayonHands: have fun

But even mundane things give useful information.

Like knowing Victor and Othala were an item.

That's very interesting. "Drop me off here. I'll be by with Dinah like usual."

"Understood."

I found an alley to change in after I got out of the van, Green once more coming to bring me plain clothes and fly my costume away. I let him do a survey of the surrounding blocks before I stepped into the open.

I needed to be more careful than ever.

Kill me and Veda fulfilled my threat, but some villains might not care about that or think it through.

When I got to the house the smell of eggs and bacon filled the room.

"You made breakfast?" I called.

"Needed a distraction," Dad said.

The sound of the TV, the new plasma one, drew my attention to the living room.

I stared at the screen.

"I'm on Fox News."

"And MSNBC," Dad noted. "And CNN. And NBC. And all the local news channels."

I'm on national news. My jaw slackened. There are people in Hawaii watching video of me right now.

They played the video I'd posted, though without sound. It occupied a back wall of a smooth looking room. A C shaped table occupied the floor, a half dozen people sitting around it.

Of all the reactions I expected from my speech, and putting it online, one continued to completely dumb found me.

"Consider what she said, and the action she took. She isn't just applying the rules to capes."

Muruta Azrael smiled to the other commentators.

"She's applying them to anyone who works with a parahuman gang," he continued. "It might be a double standard still but it is progress to see a parahuman including people without powers in her sphere. And I admit, even I find it refreshing to see someone taking these so called rules seriously."

Why do people I hate keep agreeing with me, and vice versa?

It nearly made me rethink my course of action. Nearly.

"She does name several incidents that bring the truce between capes into question," one of the other guests said. "I remember when it happened. New Wave shocked the country by unmasking, and they got a lot of momentum in those early months. I honestly though secret identities might become a thing of the past."

Oh god damn it.

I already saw that one coming to bite me in the ass.

Azrael nodded, saying, "Yes. And then she was shot in her own home. Despite her miraculous survival, New Wave's noble intentions died with her injury."

"Are you sure we have the right Muruta Azrael here right now?"

"I'm perfectly capable of appreciating smart capes who want to bring about positive change." The man wore a smile that seemed about as sincere as Calvert's. "New Wave proposed a progressive ideal. Newtype appearing in Brockton Bay may not be coincidence. She might be influenced by New Wave herself."

Well…he's not wrong.

I sat down on the still broken couch.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked.

"About an hour," Dad replied. He walked in with a plate of breakfast and set it in front of me. "You sure know how to make a show."

"This wasn't part of the plan."

"I feel bad for her."

The name under the person's face read "Maj. Andrew Waltfeld, USMC." He looked Stratos or Ramius' age, with short brown hair and a rugged face.

Azrael turned to him, asking, "How so?"

"Because she just painted the largest target possible on her back. It takes balls of steel to stand up and say what she said, but no villain is going to let it stand. I hope she realizes what she just did to herself."

"On that we agree. It's a noble act, but I suspect a fruitless one. It is the plight of the young to think the world can be changed by—"

Well, fuck you too.

I changed the channel to some vapid reality TV show.

"Jerk," I mumbled.

Dad frowned. "You don't think they might have a point?"

I narrowed my eyes and picked up a fork.

They talked like all old men talking down to the young do. Maybe we don't have all the answers. Maybe we're as wrong as anyone else and we'll regret it all in the end.

Doesn't mean we're blind and dumb.

They were young once, and angry. I didn't believe for one second it never crossed their minds that the world was wrong. Especially not Azrael, given his current activities.

"I think there are better uses for a seventy-two inch plasma screen TV." I pressed a button on the remote. "Like Netflix."

"The gangs will retaliate," Veda said through my phone.

Oh right, she can do that now.

"And then what?" Dad asked. "I know you have StarGazer helping you, and D—" He stopped himself. "I know you have help, but out there, it's just you kiddo. If your suit breaks or someone gets you in a tight spot…"

I pulled up my phone and switched the screen over. I showed it to him and Dad watched with a confused expression.

"What is it?"

"The texts of every gang in the city." I turned the screen back to me. "Fenja and Menja are making sure they don't show up to a party in the same dress. Kind of dumb if you ask me. They're twins. If anyone can pull off wearing the same dress to a party it's them."

Dad's eyes widened a little.

"I've been stealing their phones, using them to make calls, and planting worms that feed everything they say, every website they access, and everywhere they go right to me."

"That's…scary."

"It's information dominance. I know everything, and they know nothing but that I know too much. It won't last forever"—only a matter of time till they caught on—"but for now they can't do anything without me knowing about it."

Dad glanced to my phone, then to me. "Seriously?"

"The Merchants are difficult to track," Veda admitted. "Their use of electronic communication is inconsistent."

I scoffed "They're high. Like, all the time. But they're also the gang that can do the least to hurt me. I can either outrun or overpower all of them."

Dad sat down beside me.

"You…really could out all of them? Couldn't you?"

He said it like a realization. Did everyone think I was bluffing or something?

"StarGazer, how many Brockton Bay capes are in Level Seven?"

"Forty-one," Veda answered. "Fifteen villains associated with parahuman gangs. Four independent villains. Three mercenaries. Two rogues. Five independent heroes. Eight Wards. Four Protectorate."

"Level Seven?" Dad asked.

"An archive where we store all details pertaining to cape identities," Veda answered.

"I began finding them accidentally while developing my search functions. Taylor proposed locking them away."

Dad's eyes went a little big.

"They stayed locked up until Friday morning," I said. "No point to knowing things if I don't do anything with them. Might as well do something good."

"What if a master gets you?" Dad asked. "You said it was dangerous for me to know just one identity."

"I don't know who they are. I know my limits. If I knew…I'd do something. StarGazer is the one who knows, and no one will ever get to her."

"My position is fairly secure," Veda said.

"If you say so," Dad replied.

She's an AI Dad. You'd need an AI to crack her, and even then.

"So"—I chewed on some eggs—"skipping work again?"

Dad shook his head. "I'll be going in soon. You meanwhile, need to get ready for school."

I stopped, fork sticking out of my mouth. "Whah?"

"School." Dad gave me a look. "It's your first day at Arcadia."

"I doh nehd schooh."

"We disagree."

I swallowed and pulled the fork free.

"I explained the part where my power makes me smarter, right? That I will pass the GED without even studying because I can calculate derivatives in my head?"

Dad gave me a deadpan stare.

"Have you passed the GED yet?"

I started to speak, but whatever excuse never made it from my brain to my mouth.

Dad pointed at the clock.

"I called ahead to let them know you might get cold feet."

Veda spoke up, saying, "I believe you should do as Danny Hebert says."

Dad crossed his arms. "Danny Hebert agrees."

I stared at my phone.

Traitor.

Fifty-nines minutes later, I stepped off the bus surrounded by strangers.

It still hurt, oddly. I wanted Arcadia so badly, and instead of refuge it now stood as an annoyance. How quickly our priorities can change.

I kept my head down as I entered.

The students looked different from those at Winslow. They wore nicer clothes, didn't smell like cigarette smoke, and not one sported gang colors. The halls bore shiny marble floors, and the lockers all looked new.

My transfer letter included basic instructions directing me to the front office. Unlike Winslow, I found five secretaries inside and offices for a Principal, Vice-Principal, Student Counselor, Athletic Director, and PTA Representative.

One of the ladies behind the desks lifted her head as I entered.

"Hello dear. Do you need help?"

"I got transferred here today," I said with a less than enthusiastic tone.

"Taylor, or Charlotte?" she asked.

"Taylor," I answered. They already know my name?

The woman flipped through a stack of sticky notes on her desk. "The vice principle can see you immediately. This way."

She rose from her seat and walked me over to the door. After knocking, it took just a second for a tall woman with short black hair to answer.

"Miss Badgiruel," the woman said. "Taylor Hebert is here."

The vice principal turned to me. She reminded me of Greene. Stern, and without a hint of emotion on her face. Maybe not quite the classic disciplinarian in look, but she had the same air.

"Miss Hebert. Please."

She stepped aside and let me enter.

Compared to Blackwell's, the office looked like paradise. Neat and orderly from corner to corner, with simple but appealing decor. Her nameplate gave her first name as Natarle.

"Please sit."

I sat.

"I spoke with your father. He told me about your issues at Winslow, and how you dealt with them."

I frowned. "Did he now?"

"I also spoke with the Superintendent, who informed me that the situation was quite serious. Thus you are being transferred here despite the school year ending in two weeks."

"Did he now?"

The woman maintained her even demeanor.

"I'd first like to assure you bullying is not tolerated at Arcadia High School. If you have any issue, inform faculty or a member of the student council. It will be addressed."

I'd heard that before. Almost word for word.

"Second, I will insist that unexcused absences are equally unacceptable. This is a learning institution with a reputation. Students play an important part in upholding it."

Ramius got me into this. I wonder if she can get me out of this? Maybe if I ask nicely…

"Third, if you find that something is wrong, and nothing is being done about it, I ask you come directly to me." My frown shook a little. "If policy isn't being implemented, I want to know."

And she looked completely serious when she said that. Angry almost.

This woman is the opposite of Blackwell.

"Okay," I mumbled.

"Now then." She pulled a folder from a drawer and flipped through the pages. "This has been sudden and I apologize that we don't have a locker assignment for you. You're welcome to store any belongings here in my office. I don't leave the building 'till six most days."

I got my class schedule, along with a list of all my teachers including their phone numbers and emails.

"Arcadia has higher academic standards than Winslow, and the time of your transfer complicates things alongside the many absences. I've arranged for a series of tests to assess your situation. If it is bad, I would highly recommend a tutor"—the irony—"or perhaps summer schooling."

Oh god please no!

"I'll do fine," I said, more nervously than I'd like. "My grades tanked at Winslow because my homework kept getting stolen. I did all the work."

Ms. Badgiruel nodded.

"I noticed you did very well on all your tests, the ones you were present to take. You likely won't make it to any regular classes today. I'd like to make lunch available for you to meet the rest of the student body."

"That's fine," I said.

"This way."

She stuck me in a room and administered the tests herself. She left a few times to deal with things, but always came back and sat quietly.

I nailed every question. I read books by the dozens before getting my powers, even if I read less now. Mom didn't raise an illiterate. Math and science were child's play.

I tried to use my phone to talk to Veda during a few down moments when she wasn't around and I finished my test.

Damn Faraday cage.

I needed to completely rebuild my phone, but I figured out a way around it. It's as easy as turning the device into a quantum relay. Veda would need a corresponding receiver, but who needs free Wi-Fi in a ten mile radius when you've have instant communication to anywhere you can geo-locate?

I finished my next test and handed it to Ms. Badgiruel. She added it to the first and checked the time.

"I'm sure you're hungry," she said. "Please."

I followed her from the room and we returned to her office.

She picked up her phone and pressed a button.

"Mrs. Jenkins. Could you send Dean Stansfield to my office?"

I stiffened.

Stansfield?

Ten minutes later a neatly dressed boy with sandy hair entered.

"Ms. Hebert, this is Dean Stansfield. He's the student council's vice president and he volunteered to help you with anything you need."

"Hi, Taylor." The boy smiled. "I'm Dean."

He held his hand toward me and smiled.

I didn't take it, too busy trying to work out the Blue Cosmos plot before me. I mean, what are the odds?

Wait a min—

"I've seen you somewhere before," I wondered aloud.

"I sometimes end up on the news on account of my grandfather," he said. "Sam Stansfield? He kind of runs Blue Cosmos in Brockton Bay."

No. Not th—The day of the fires.

The guy in the nice suit leading all the Blue Cosmos volunteers. He looked younger without the suit, but it's definitely the same guy.

"R—Right. Sorry."

He lowered his hand and shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He glanced to the vice principal, asking, "What can I do Ms. Badgiruel?"

"Would you help Ms. Hebert to the cafeteria? She's been cooped up taking assessment tests all morning."

"Ouch. No problem." He pushed the door open and held it for me. "Ladies first."

I rose cautiously.

Is this how Blue Cosmos planned to approach me? If the vice principal belonged to their group…She tells them about my transfer. Then the leader's grandson pulls me aside. Offers to listen? To help? A soft sell leading into "let's sue."

I thought they'd start with Dad.

It seemed a little, contrived. Maybe just a coincidence, but much like an Empire cape hearing about a hero standing on Medhall's roof, it felt too convenient.

"You'll like it better here," Dean said. "I hear Winslow is pretty rough."

"Yeah."

So they told him I came from Winslow? Or did he know that?

"Did you have a favorite class?"

"Not really," I said.

"There's some good classes here and the class sizes are small so the teachers can give you more time. Oh, this way. You can get to the cafeteria that way too, but it'll take you to the far side away from the lunch line."

Arcadia might as well be a five star restaurant compared to Winslow. No long tables organized in stale rows across a stale room. The windows sat high on the walls, the tables all smaller and built for groups of four to eight.

And the food actually looked like it might have been alive at one point in time.

I'd been trying to withhold judgment. It seemed fair. Ramius went through the trouble of transferring me, and everyone in my life—the damn traitors—insisted I belonged in school.

So why not just play along? Two weeks isn't that long. I can manage that.

But this?

The disparity made me angry.

Marble floors. Multiple administrators. Actual food. A damn PTA rep?

How could Winslow and Arcadia be run so differently while existing in the same school district? It couldn't just be a matter of the neighborhood or where the students came from. How did they justify spending money in this manner? Leaving the people in the Docks to rot while the people in Downtown enjoyed…all of this.

Some people matter, and some people don't.

Same old, same old.

"You okay?"

My head jerked up, the lunch tray half full in my hands.

"Overwhelmed?" Dean asked. "I imagine Winslow is nothing like this."

"N—No, it's not," I said.

"Probably seems kind of unfair."

I narrowed my gaze at him. "A little."

"Yeah. Double standards suck that way."

Is he talking about the schools, or capes? Both?

He turned to the cafeteria, more than a few people still watching.

"I'd invite you to sit with me, but I'm kind of well-known around here and I don't know if you want to get lumped in."

I raised my brow. "Lumped in?"

"This is the Wards school," Dean explained. "But a lot of the kids of Blue Cosmos members go here too. Kind of makes things a little tense sometimes. The cliques can get a little mean spirited. You just got here, so I'd rather not throw you to the wolves."

After he pointed it out, I saw it.

Get a big enough knife and you could cut the cafeteria into three pieces.

On the left with lots of kids in nice, business casual clothes. On the right, people wore T-shirts with cape logos, and a much more relaxed attitude. If I looked closely, I saw lots of cape shirts and merchandise on the right, while the left seemed to put too much effort into not looking at them.

But if the two sides sat along the walls, then what of the mass of mixed students in between? Some wore relaxed clothing and cape shirts. Others dressed a little more formally.

Really, the two extremes sat along opposing walls. The mixed middle was far larger.

What's up with that?

"Shouldn't have to eat lunch alone though," Dean said. "Let's see."

I noticed a familiar face in the crowd. "It's fine. I see someone I know."

"Oh. Okay. I'll—"

I didn't wait for him to finish. A few faces watched me, but many apparently lost interest after I parted ways with Dean. He went his own way to a table on the left that seemed enthusiastic to talk to him.

When did I last eat in a cafeteria instead of a bathroom, or a stairwell? I stopped so long ago. The trio chased me out of anywhere public.

"Charlotte."

"Taylor?" She turned her head as I approached, her face more than a little surprised. "Oh. I didn't think—"

"My dad insisted."

I sat down beside her, the only other occupant of the table a Hispanic boy.

"Oh. This is Carlos," Charlotte said. "The Principal asked him to show me around."

"Hey," I said.

"Hi." He smiled. "Charlotte mentioned you."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't know you were here." Charlotte face turned a little red. "I haven't seen you or anything."

"The vice principal has me taking a bunch of tests because of all the school days I missed."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Ah, that explains why Stansfield was showing you around."

I raised my brow. Carlos waved his hand, explaining, "He hasn't broken a rule once since freshman year, and Ms. Badgiruel is a real stickler for the rules."

Is she in Blue Cosmos? They seemed obsessed with rules and making them fair. Well, if nothing else maybe she meant what she said. Protecting me at school as a way for Blue Cosmos to get on my good side?

"You sound like you don't like her," I said.

"I don't dislike her. When I mean she's a stickler for the rules, I mean she's a stickler for the rules. Did you know boy's pants must hang no lower than two inches from the waist?"

"No?"

"Well that's a rule," Carlos said. "And she always knows. When you get a copy of the student handbook, make sure you read all the sections on the dress code. I swear she gets a dime for every infraction she finds."

"Why not just have a school uniform?" I asked. Winslow would solve a lot of problems that way.

"And keep all the girls from wearing designer tops?" Carlos shook his head. "Even Badgiruel can't make that happen."

I like it here less and less with each passing moment.

"So." Charlotte poked at her food. "Have you been watching the news, Taylor?"

"Not really," I lied.

"Newtype's all over it."

"Is she?"

"Ah, cape geeks, huh?" Carlos chuckled. "Well I guess you can join the pool of people guessing which students are Wards. I hear there's fifty on me being Clockblocker."

Thinking back to the one time I'd seen Clockblocker, I shook my head.

He's too short.

"I hear the PRT is super angry about it," Charlotte mumbled with a glance to me.

"I suppose they've no reason to be happy," I answered.

Piggot displayed her mastery of the spoken word by simultaneously applauding my courage and condemning my stupidity in a single sentence.

I would never want to be in the position of staring down every villain in the city.

Of course when she said it the words were laced with only a mild amount of sarcasm. She didn't think I could do it.

"I hope she knows what she's doing." Apparently, neither did Charlotte. "I'm worried about her."

"She'll be fine," I assured. "The gangs aren't stupid enough to kill her. StarGazer will out whoever did it for breaking the rules. She can handle anything else."

They'd fear that well enough, for now.

"Assuming they're smart enough to think of that," Carlos noted. "The Merchants never struck me as very smart."

The Merchants also can't do anything about me.

I shrugged and continued eating.

"Do you track cape news?" Charlotte as—Oh she thinks he's cute.

I might be unattractive, but I knew what a girl meant when she leaned forward just a little and started making sure her hair was straight while trying not to look that interested.

Glancing to Carlos again, handsome worked as a description. Classically masculine with defined muscles and a squared jaw. Not my type, though. Didn't have time for boys, anyway.

At least Charlotte seemed to be in good enough spirit to awkwardly flirt.

That's improvement, right?

"Not really," he answered. "But it's all over the news most of time, so really who doesn't know a few things here and there?"

"True," Charlotte mumbled. "I suppose on the bright side, things in Boston are calming down."

I turned my head. "Are they?"

"You didn't hear?" Charlotte pulled out her phone. Of course it didn't work, and she sighed. "Right. The principal said phones didn't work in the building."

Did no one ever consider what a safety hazard that was?

What if a super villain appeared in the cafeteria and started making some grand speech?

"What happened in Boston?" I asked.

"The Ambassadors got into a fight with the Teeth," Carlos answered. "And Purity fought the Butcher with Legend on Saturday."

"I heard about that one."

It took real effort not to smile in satisfaction.

"It is kind of crazy that one cape can get that to happen," Charlotte mused.

"It happens more often than you think," Carlos said. "New capes come and go, and a lot of them shake things up when they first appear."

"A lot die," I pointed out. Charlotte stiffened. "I'm just saying. Statistically."

"Yeah," Carlos shrugged. "I guess she really isn't joining the Wards, though. There's a betting pool on that too."

"She probably has a reason," I offered.

"I guess. Her parents are probably worried about her, though."

Don't remind me.

Dad constantly fretting over my fate was only slightly better than having to constantly lie to him.

"When do parents ever not worry?" I asked.

"True enough," Carlos said.

"How about yours?" I glanced to Charlotte. "Are they okay with how things are going now?"

"My dad's still furious," she answered. "My mom is a bit more calm."

"Is this about why the two of you transferred so late in the year?"

"Oh, um…"

Charlotte glanced to me, and I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't mind if she did, but maybe she didn't want to explain it when it involved me without permission?

Carlos frowned. "Something wrong?"

"No." Charlotte looked around, stumbling over her words. "It's just…um. Complicated."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's alright," I said. "It's being dealt with. We're fine now."

"Oh. Yeah." Charlotte perked up, either by force or circumstance. "So Carlos. Is there a cape club at this school?"

"Yeah. Meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and they have a PHO group I think. Ask Tyler. It's kind of his project these days."

After the bell rang, Dean walked back over to me.

"Need any help getting back to the office?"

"I remember the way," I answered.

"I'll walk you back just to be sure." He turned and raised a hand. "Hey Carlos."

"Hey, Dean. You got roped in on this too?"

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Sometimes I think getting too drunk at a party just once might have saved me a lot of hassle."

"A bit late now," Carlos said with a grin.

"Unfortunately." Dean turned back to me. "Ready to go back to Ms. Badgiruel's office?"

Is this the part where they approach me? I could have asked Charlotte, but not in a public place like that. No. I asked about her parents and she didn't seem to mean anything in her answer.

"Ms. Badgiruel. I've brought Taylor back."

"Thank you, Mr. Stansfield. Go to your next class."

"I'll see you later, Taylor."

Of course, me and my paranoia.

Just a coincidence? As Fenja or Menja might say, convenient coincidence. Maybe he merely wanted to introduce himself to me in a passive way?

"I only need a moment," Ms. Badgiruel said. She signed the paper in front of her, flipped it over onto a stack, and signed the one beneath it. "Transferring student records involves surprising amounts of paper work."

Well, the tests were easy at least.

And they kept me out of regular classes. At Winslow I knew all the cliques and circles, but I didn't know any at Arcadia. What I'd seen of the cafeteria looked like a social minefield. My excitement to figure that out abounded. A mountain of work for petty high school bullshit.

I handed in the last test just after the last bell rang.

"We'll get you into normal classes tomorrow," Ms. Badgiruel said. "I'll have these assessed immediately so we can pick the best path to getting you caught up."

"Right. Can I go?"

The woman raised her head.

"I imagine school isn't a happy place far you, Taylor."

I frowned. "Is this the part where you tell me how important interacting with my peers is?"

"Frankly speaking, your peers are inconsiderate brats."

My jaw dropped a little.

"But most people are inconsiderate brats," she added. "Part of growing up is learning to deal with them and be productive despite their presence."

She folded the tests together, and put them into tagged folders.

"But then, there's the few. The one or two who will be with you for the rest of your life in some form or another."

She waved me up and we went toward the door.

"I can make friends outside of school," I said.

"Friends of choice to be sure, but friends of circumstance are important too. I still talk to one I knew in high school. She's a damn bleeding heart. Worries too much, empathizes more than she should. She's really quite hopeless."

"Doesn't sound like a friend?"

"Friend is just another word for an annoying person you put up with." Badgiruel smiled. "And perhaps she taught me that there's more to life than rules."

I raised my brow. "That's not what I heard."

"Oh?"

I shouldn't have said that, except now she stood with her hand on the door, obviously expecting an answer.

"Way I hear it you're some kind of fashion cop."

"Hmm. I suppose, but if I don't keep the current dress code enforced the PTA shows up at the bi-annual meeting demanding uniforms because one girl came to school in a halter top one time. I'd rather police a messy dress code and allow students to assert themselves, within reason."

I blinked.

Well…Carlos got it wrong.

"The point is Ms. Hebert, sometimes it's good to be forced to interact with others. We all have to do it in life, unless we want to end up a recluse in some basement somewhere. School isn't just about education. It's about life."

"My experience is that it's all wasted time."

"The only time that is wasted is the time you spend learning nothing." She opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow Ms. Hebert."

Students already crowded the halls when I walked out. Didn't need to go to a locker or anything, so I made my way to the front doors.

At least picking up Dinah would be easy from Arcadia. Just a stroll across the street.

I waited by the bus stop for a bit, watching the students come and go.

The one or two who will be with you for the rest of your life.

Thinking about that, only Emma came to mind. She'd always be there somewhere, no matter how much I wanted to forget what she became.

Maybe a bit of that is on me.

I hated what Emma did to me, but I still loved the girl in my memories.

"How was Arcadia?"

I turned my head to Dinah and shrugged.

"It's a school."

"It's better than Winslow."

"I can think of few things worse than Winslow."

My phone vibrated, and I drew it from my pocket.

sys.v/ Lt. Ramius has requested to meet
sys.v/ she has chosen a location near Arcadia

sys.t/ alright

No point holding off on the inevitable. I needed to know how the PRT intended to respond to my little plan.

"Can you make your own way to the garage?" I asked.

"I could," Dinah offered.

We got on the bus, but I got off at the edge of Downtown.

The area where Downtown and the Towers met formed a commercial strip running through the city center toward the Docks. On the northern end it looked quaint and affordable, while on the southern it got more pricey and extravagant before ending in the area around some art galleries and a theater. And the PRT HQ building.

Really, it's the only part of Brockton Bay that prospers.

And Ramius mentioned our graveyard talk felt like a spy movie.

I walked into the cafe, a place far more extravagant than either of the places on the Boardwalk. Two stories, with a large open center.

I approached the barista, glancing around before asking, "I'm meeting a friend in the back. Room three?"

The woman pulled out a small book. "College interviews, huh?"

"Um, yeah."

Good enough cover story for a teenager to meet an adult in private.

"On the left through the black door. Then, third door on the right. Good luck. BCU ain't bad, but it ain't going to get you out of this shit town."

"Um. Right."

I kept searching as I crossed the floor. No one seemed to be watching me, or conspicuously reading a paper or wearing sunglasses indoors.

Beyond the black door lay a simple hall. Third door on the left.

I turned the handle, and the door pulled back.

"So, what university am I interviewing for?"

"Hmm. Wesleyan?"

Ramius looked odd in a sweater and slacks. She'd tied her hair into a braid and put a pair of glasses on. It all seemed entirely too relaxed. I mean, it looked good on her, but it completely clashed with my mental image of the compassionate professional.

Someone who didn't know her well might not immediately recognize her.

"Pretty sure my family was Catholic at some point," I said.

"Good thing the school went nondenominational," Ramius replied with a smile.

I closed the door and locked it.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"No. I'm, alright." I set my bag down and sat across the table. "Does the PRT meet with capes like this often?"

"It's safer than calling people to the PRT building itself," she said. "Especially capes."

I nodded. I'd probably refuse if asked to go to the PRT building to answer questions.

Ramius frowned at me, but not in a disappointed way. I think the only time I'd ever seen her disappointed was when she talked about the PRT's fuck up. To me, she seemed worried.

"You've made my job very hard, Taylor."

Right. Onwards then.

"How angry is the Director?"

"Very. Armsmaster as well, and the chief of police. The only person who seems on the fence is the mayor." Dinah's uncle? "I think he's just bidding his time to see how your actions play out. If it works he'll applaud you for the benefits it might bring his campaign."

"Or vice-versa?" Well. Politics. "And they want you to tell me to stop?"

Ramius' frown deepened.

"We both know I can't. And for what it's worth, most of those I work with are unable to look past your age."

"And what do you think?" I asked.

"I think you've shown a repeating trend of disregarding your own safety. It can be a valuable thing for a hero, selflessness. But I worry you don't worry about it enough."

"In this, I don't think there is much danger. They come after me in a way that breaks the rules, and killing is supposed to be against the rules, and StarGazer fulfills my threat. They know that."

"If they're smart. Not all criminals are. Most actually."

"Then the smart ones will have to keep them in line. After all, I said I'd out names at random."

And that's the key. I didn't except every criminal to be that smart, but the smart ones surely noticed the wording I used. They'd work to keep the rest in line, for fear of being outed as a consequence.

"Boston is taking me seriously."

"Boston? You wanted that to happen?"

"I hope the villains there might wonder if my words were a simple example, or a veiled threat. You know my suit could reach the city in under two minutes. It's not outside of my reach."

"I don't think Director Armstrong will be any happier than Director Piggot."

"I'm not actually going to do it," I assured. "I don't know enough about Boston, but getting the Ambassadors and Purity working against the Teeth should help a little."

"Maybe."

Ramius didn't seem assured.

"Could you do it?" she asked. "If someone pushed?"

"I can," I said.

I set my phone on the table, and Veda repeated the same information she told Dad.

Ramius straightened her back.

"You know Ward and Protectorate identities?"

"No," I answered. "I'm the one who goes out and gets in dangerous situations. No one can squeeze details I don't know from me. StarGazer can protect herself if anything happens, so she's the one who knows."

"Going looking for that kind of information can be interpreted as breaking the rules, Taylor."

"But they are not," Veda revealed. Ramius shirked a little, apparently only now remembering that Veda always listened. "Technically, only attacking capes in their civilian identities amounts to a violation. Simply knowing an identity is not."

Ramius put herself back together, saying, "That's a dangerous hair to split."

"It's already been split. Break the rules, and the rules get broken. Now, we all play by the same rules."

Veda added, "To clarify, it is not information that was sought. I began discovering such things developing my abilities by accident."

Ramius' brow went up. "Then you've had this ability for some time?"

"Yes."

"Well…At least I can say that."

I raised my own brow. "And that, helps?"

"A little. I think Piggot is going to push me to arrange a meeting between you and her." Another wonderful use of my time. "I'm not sure I can stop that, but I could delay it. I can say you've already shown restraint. Right now, the fear is that you'll overreact. Simply start outing villains."

I scoffed.

"I'd burn the city to the ground in the process. You'd think running circles around the gangs for weeks would earn me more credit."

"They largely chalk your success up to your suit. There are no villains in the Bay right now, save perhaps Sovereign, who can counter it."

"Sovereign? The Undersiders?"

"I can't give you the details. Same reason I won't tell anyone your name. I might not be a cape, but rules are rules."

I nodded.

"I will say be careful." She sighed. "Sovereign is a master, and a powerful one. If you feel your emotions aren't normal, you should just fly away."

Emotions?

For not wanting to break the rules, she told me a lot.

A powerful emotion manipulator? Presumably, with the ability to bypass the armor of my suit, otherwise she'd be no problem. Didn't need physical contact then, maybe not even line of sight if she simply felt and manipulated emotions freely.

That's…kind of terrifying.

Heartbreaker lite.

And I felt self-aware enough to acknowledge attacking my emotions might be the absolute best way to attack me.

And she's an Undersider, with Tattletale. Perfect.

Still, they honestly thought it was all the suit? Proud as I might be of O Gundam, a big stick isn't much use with no idea where to aim it.

"The PRT focuses too much on powers," I thought. They need to pay more attention to strategy.

"That might be overstating the case," Ramius replied.

I noticed she didn't say I was wrong.

And that's why they don't get it.

"So," I said, "if you just threatened every villain in the city to play nice or suffer the consequences, what would be your next move?"

Ramius paused. "You're not stopping at going back to raiding their depots, are you?"

I smiled. "That's what they expect. It's the perfect time to hit where they aren't looking."

Ramius' worried look grew. "You're going to go after the capes."

"I'm going to keep doing exactly what I've been doing. Keep them on the defensive, break them one little piece at a time, and when they realize how dire their situation has become, it's too late."

And I needed them to run when that time came, rather than lash out.

Not that it would be that easy. Simply removing the gangs without solving the economic and political problems of the city left the door wide open. I needed to rebuild the Bay, not just deal with its crime problem.

Quite a few challenges to overcome.

"You could coordinate that with the Protectorate."

"Maybe." I intended to, just not in the way they expected. "Either way, it'll be a few days before I can do anything."

Ramius looked at me quizzically.

I shrugged.

"I ran out of money. O Gundam is expensive. Oh. That's my suit's name."

Ramius blinked. "Gundam?"

I nodded. "I need to wait a few days for some things to wrap up. Then I'll have enough money to go out again without compromising myself in an emergency."

Ramius watched me for a moment. "I see."

"There is something else, if it's alright." Ramius nodded. "I think Blue Cosmos might have tried to reach out to me today, but I'm not sure."

Ramius' lips parted, but any words stopped before they formed. Did she want to keep talking about my announcement? I didn't see much else to say about it, and Ramius seemed smart enough to figure that out.

"How? Not lawyers?"

"Dean Stansfield. He's a student at Arcadia. The vice principal asked him to show me around."

Ramius sat back and crossed her arms. "Did he seem to know you? Say anything?"

"Not really. Nothing that I can put my finger on."

"Hmm. Steven's grandson is active in the group, but he's not the person I think anyone would send to handle anything delicate. He's only a year or two older than you."

"I've seen him before. A while ago when the gang war started."

"Did he recognize you?"

"He didn't seem to."

Ramius nodded. "I don't think it means anything, but you know what to do when someone does approach you?"

"I know."

"I've made arrangements through Director Armstrong. He assured me a settlement would be quickly offered."

"He's doing the right thing?"

"Not purely. I'm afraid government officials aren't heartless, usually, but they're not overly compassionate either. He wants to build bridges with you. Wrapping this matter up is how he thinks we get that done."

I nodded. Fair enough.

"Does he think I'll owe him?"

"He doesn't think that way, but he does hope that helping with this will leave you feeling generous. He really wants to get you in a power testing lab to explore Dragon's theory."

"I heard he's really interested in powers."

"He thinks that understanding more about how they work and where they come from could provide solutions that have evaded the PRT."

"Do you disagree?"

"I think maybe he gets a little too absorbed, but I don't disagree. It's hard to get a handle on something that isn't understood."

I nodded. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about? I have some repairs to work on. Maybe a few tests."

Ramius shook her head.

"Piggot should be making the announcement about you know who soon. She's in a cell, if that eases your mind any."

It didn't, but it did amuse me. Sophia in a cell. Almost wanted to ask if I could see her.

"Other than that, all I can really do is ask you to worry as much about your own life as you do about others."

I nodded again and rose. We left together, even making a small show of shaking hands and talking about campus activities as we left. Good cov—

"Is it time to go?"

"D—" I stopped myself, glancing to Ramius beside me.

She looked down at Dinah as the middle schooler packed a textbook into her bag. Ramius remained, silent, glancing between us while I stumbled over myself trying to think of anything to say.

What is she thinking?

The entire time I'd known her…That black room she mentioned, being trapped with no escape. Dinah feared discovery even more than me.

"Is it not time to go?" Dinah asked, with absolute calm in defiance of the seriousness of what she was doing.

"Um"—Ramius turned her head away, as if saying she wasn't looking—"Y—Yes. I'm done here."

"Okay."

Dinah took my hand and turned toward the door. She pulled lightly, my feet a little slow to start walking.

Ramius didn't follow.

I leaned in and whispered, "What are you doing?!"

"Preparing," she said.

"Preparing? For what?"

"In case anything happens to you."

I flinched as we got out on the street. Dinah looked up at me, her face as passive as ever.

"If something happens, we'll need help. Veda and I."

"I"—so, if the worst happens, she'd go to Ramius—"You trust Ramius?"

Dinah tilted her head, asking, "Do you?"

She started toward the bus stop, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket. She passed it to me while we waited.

Does Murrue Ramius tell anyone about the girl with Taylor Hebert on May 16th?

A blank page.

"Never?"

"Never," she confirmed.

It wasn't an all-encompassing question. If Dinah went this route she'd see Ramius again. She might talk about those meetings, or maybe about the girl she'd seen with Newtype.

Still, it said a lot that Ramius never told anyone about this. For all she knew, Dinah was StarGazer. I sort of wanted that outcome in the end. Veda and Dinah masquerading as one cape helped protect them both.

"She's a good person," Dinah said. "It's okay."

I frowned anyway. "It's your choice, Dinah." She nodded. "I guess, if the worst comes, at least she's seen you once. She knows we're connected." She'll help you. "Wait. You haven't seen anything happening to me, have you?"

Dinah lifted her eyes.

"Something always happens to you," she said.

Oh.

"That's…Grim."

"It'll be okay."

The bus pulled up to the curb, and Dinah stepped forward.

"I'll show you the way."

We got into the workshop later than I wanted, but we had time to work out my next plan.

"How is the suit?"

The Haros scampered about the garage, Orange and Green lifting one of O Gundam's arms free and setting it on the table.

"Repairing, repairing!"

Some of the armor plates sat on the floor, Pink and Navy replacing internal components and setting the old parts in two piles. One for parts that I could fix, and another for parts I'd recycle for components.

Dinah sat down in a chair and poked at the Tieren model with one finger.

"What do you do next?" she asked.

"That'll depend on how the gangs respond to this weekend," I said. "Anything happen while I was stuck at Arcadia, Veda?"

"The Empire is adjusting strategy," Veda revealed.

"Oh?" I walked over to my workstation. "Let me see."

I read through the messages. The Empire capes went quiet for most of the morning.

Then Krieg got back.

My smile widened.

"Perfect."

"What happened?" Dinah asked.

"The Empire is going to try and bully me. They think that if they consolidate their activities and stick capes to the important ones, I'll run out of good targets."

"They think you're afraid to fight capes."

"I was," I answered. "But I survived Oni Lee and Bakuda, and those two are certifiable."

"Danny Hebert will not be pleased," Veda replied.

"We'll have to learn to live with it." I frowned. I didn't want to scare my father, but this is how it would be.

He'd have to adapt.

I scrolled through the text logs, seeing the first set of deployments for later in the week.

Hookwolf would be running solo protecting some fronts in the Towers. Made sense. He hit hard enough I didn't want to tangle with him just yet. Stormtiger and Cricket assigned to some fronts in Downtown, and Krieg set to protect the ones along the suburbs.

Gathering all their drug and gun operations together, and using their numbers to protect them.

Surprised they didn't think of that the first time around. It might have worked. Now? Now it only spread their capes across a vast area playing guard.

If someone attacked any of them, the rest would need time to respond.

"Alabaster and Victor are going to be escorting a drug shipment from New York," I said. "Rune on standby to help…"

On Friday. I'd have O Gundam fixed by then.

"Taylor," Veda said. "The news."

I switched one of the monitors over.

Piggot stood in front of a PRT podium, announcing the tragic discovery of a Ward brutalizing her peers. In different words of course, and as Ramius said, without mention of a name.

I turned away.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I decided. "We have work to do."

Looking back to the Empire's chat logs, I leaned back in my seat.

I said I'm taking out Othala, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Only problem being she rarely showed herself. That I couldn't pin down her position perplexed me, but then I'd never gotten a firm grip on any of the Merchant capes or Kaiser's locations either.

Of course they'd protect the healer.

So, I needed to draw her out.

And the Empire just gave me the perfect way to do it.

"Dinah."

She pulled up her pad and clicked her pen. "Yes?"

I took a few moments to figure how to word the question.

There's no turning back. The die is cast.

"If Victor is driving with Alabaster in a car through Brockton Bay and Newtype attacks them, what happens?"