Step 4.12
I need to fly casually more often.
I'd never taken O Gundam out with the sun up before. The city looks different in the day. The skyline isn't that scenic, but with the sun up you could look past it. Big green mountains in the background, long look out over the ocean. People down below didn't even notice me.
The sunlight drowned the light from the GN drive.
Of course, I didn't get to completely relax and take it all in.
The Empire took their latest defeat…not well. Hookwolf wanted to go straight to the Rig, which the rest fortunately determined a bad idea. Still. Kaiser wanted his capes back, and, naturally, my head on a spike.
More concerning, ABB and Merchant groups shifted toward Empire territory. Starting another gang war by pushing the Empire too far didn't fix anything.
And I found myself at that point, the one where I needed to be very careful.
It's surreal, looking back. It all happened so fast in retrospect, even though when I started it seemed like it took forever to get anywhere.
Now in a mere two weeks I'd come so far in my plans.
I put the gangs on the defensive, and my "focus" on the Empire seemed to keep the ABB and Merchants looking west like wolves. I'd resolved my school issues, though Blue Cosmos had yet to approach Charlotte or me. I'd figured out how to best make use of Dinah's power, and my workshop was fully capable of supporting me for the moment.
No reason to rest easy, but I felt proud of that.
"The abbey is in sight," Veda said.
I glanced to the camera feed in the corner of my HUD.
Pink hovered above the building far to the south of me. A square building with an open courtyard in the center, built of brick and concrete with tall walls. Worn tiles covered the roof with a few bare spots showing tin underneath. The windows looked old.
Period glass you'd call it?
"Have Pink poke around. I think we'll be surprised."
"If she is there?" Veda asked.
I might be completely wrong, or I might not. "Depends on how things go at the PRT, but I do call it Plan A for a reason."
Banking toward the PRT building, I started descending. Aegis and Kid Win set off on patrol fifteen minutes before my arrival. Neither seemed to notice me from their position ten blocks to the north.
"Dinah?" I asked.
"I'm okay," she answered.
"You don't have to," I repeated for maybe the dozenth time.
"I want to," she said. "We started this together."
I let any protest die. If Dinah wanted to be involved, then I'd let her be. Her choice.
"Wait for me. I shouldn't be long."
Moment of truth.
The one that decided what came next.
I took the final approach slowly. I called ahead, so they expected me. I wonder if the PRT installed any air defenses on the building? The Rig packed a few missile batteries, but real or not?
Not something I eagerly wanted to know.
My feet set down and four troopers approached me from the rooftop door. Miss Militia walked immediately behind them, hands at her sides.
I knelt, and the helmet pulled back, followed by the chest plate.
O Gundam closed shut after my exit, Red hovering in the air over my suits shoulder. I didn't think the PRT would try to mess with my suit, but better safe than sorry.
Green and Purple landed on either side of me. They both rolled from their cradles, Green popping his ears and waving at the approaching troopers and heroine.
"Hello. Hello."
Miss Militia tilted her head down. "Hello."
Examining the older heroine, I felt a little nostalgic. Did they send her here on purpose? My first ill-fated arrival to the PRT had led me to her, and now here we were again.
Be diplomatic, Taylor.
"Miss Militia," I greeted. I acknowledged each trooper with a glance.
The woman turned her attention back to me. "Newtype. The Director is in a meeting, but she'll be with you shortly. If you want to wait inside?"
Making me wait, eh?
"It's fine if I leave my suit parked on the roof?"
"It should be."
I walked to the elevator quietly. Green and Purple followed behind Miss Militia and two troopers. The other two remained on the roof with my suit, looking up at Red as he hovered there.
I swear I saw him pull something from inside his ball as the door closed.
Miss Militia seemed a little apprehensive on the way down.
"Where are Victor and Alabaster?" I asked.
"In cells on the Rig," Miss Militia answered, evenly.
"When are they going to be transported out of the city?"
"I'm not authorized to disclose that information."
Of course you're not. "I'd rather Kaiser didn't just set them free. I can help."
"We won't let him"—I wanted to say something about Uber and Leet, but that wouldn't be diplomatic—"and if that is what you want you should ask the Director. It's not my decision to make."
Easier to take a shot at Othala if I knew when the PRT planned to move the prisoners. The Empire still debated whether to hit the trucks or wait till they got to cells. I'd rather they did the former, if only because it ensured Othala emerging from her hiding place.
When the doors opened, Miss Militia took up a brisk pace without a word. I followed her, my Haros and the troopers following me.
Weird.
I had an emotional conversation in a graveyard, and that felt less…grave. The air felt heavy, the hall narrow. Getting nervous?
Miss Militia brought me to a conference room with a long table. Green hopped up onto one of the seats and sat, while Purple did a lap around the room.
Both PRT troopers waited outside.
"The Director will just be a moment," Miss Militia said.
"Will Ramius be here?"
"I'm not sure. The Director only stated she wanted to talk to you here. You can sit if you want."
I did.
Miss Militia remained standing by the door.
Purple jumped onto the table, drawing her attention for a moment. My Haro poked at the conference phone a few times with its foot before tucking the limb back in and rolling to me.
Militia watched me with a curious gaze, not unlike the one she'd shown when following me during my sudden exit months ago. It seemed deeper though. More contemplative.
I tried to ignore it. Honest.
But the silence kept drawing out and I could hear her breathing, and she could hear me breathing and, "You want to say something?"
"Not particularly," she answered.
"You look like you want to say something."
Miss Militia narrowed her gaze. I waited, wondering if she'd ever decide to say anything.
"I suppose," she mumbled, "I wonder if I could have changed this course."
I tilted my head to one side.
"You mean back when I first came to the PRT?" I asked. She nodded. "Maybe…"
Miss Militia did try to help, I think. I'd been too delirious and distraught to really give her a chance. Maybe things would be different if I'd let her. Like Ramius, she might have stood up and said Shadow Stalker's actions were unacceptable.
Or maybe not. Too late to know now.
"I think I've done okay for myself."
"You have," Miss Militia admitted, "but I worry you've made yourself a big target with little support behind you."
"I have StarGazer"—and Dinah—"and that's enough for now."
"For now?"
I mulled over my words. Letting the PRT subtly know I intended to form a team might be useful. "I wanted to establish myself first, on my own merit."
Maybe I did that a long time ago.
Trevor got it right about me. Newtype. Whatever.
I saw too many things as defeat, too easily. People tried to tell me after my encounter with Oni Lee that I didn't really lose, but I didn't believe them.
"You've certainly done that," Miss Militia said.
"And you're still worried?"
Miss Militia's weapon shimmered slightly. "I was young once too."
I raised my brow behind my visor. Did she have anything else to add? Maybe elaboration?
Or is she being vague in response to my vagueness?
The door opened, and we both turned.
What they say about the camera adding ten pounds?
Not true.
It adds zero pounds, and Piggot looked about the same as she did on TV. An overweight woman with a bob cut, bleached roots, and clearly not in the best of health.
I glanced to the door, but no one else followed her into the room.
"Thank you, Militia," Piggot said. "You can wait outside."
The heroine glanced at me, and then at the overweight woman taking her seat on the opposite end of the table.
"Director?"
"Against protocol, I know. Newtype hasn't shown any capacity to master anyone. This is best handled frankly, with no one else to get in the way." The Director glanced at my robots. "Is StarGazer listening?"
"I am," Veda answered.
"That'll be fine," the Director said. She turned back to Miss Militia "Wait outside."
The heroine hesitated.
Again, she seemed to want to say something.
She didn't.
The door closed…and I could cut the air with a butter knife in here. If the hall felt a little choking, the room made it seem outright comfortable.
I glanced across the table. Piggot met my gaze, hands folded together in front of her.
Rather ostentatious for our first face to face meeting.
Alone.
"Apologies." She didn't sound very sorry. "A new Ward came in suddenly. The circumstances are complicated. I thought it best to give the matter personal attention."
A new Ward? Did the PRT beat me to the punch? Not much to do if they did.
A pit formed in my stomach. My paranoia reared its head, imagining all the ways this could go very badly. The enemy of my enemy is my friend is a pithy sentiment. Just because your enemy has an enemy doesn't mean you have a friend.
But it also didn't mean you had an extra enemy.
Piggot didn't have a good enough reason to come down on me. The people above her wanted me happy.
I needed to see where the PRT and Newtype fell.
How far I needed to go to achieve my goals. How quickly I needed to move. Piggot could tell me that, and I needed to figure it out now that things had come so far.
I bit back the grasping sense of overwhelming uncertainty and pressed on.
"No Ramius?" I asked. "Armsmaster?"
"I might think she's a fool, but I respect her dedication. Ramius needs to be your friend. It's her job, and that ties her hands in some ways that make her dramatically unhelpful in this conversation. Feel free to talk behind my back to her. I'm sure you'll find many things you both agree on."
That…was unexpected.
"And Armsmaster?" I asked.
"He hates you."
Okay…"That's frank."
"The public likes nice, but behind closed doors I find nice doesn't get a lot done. Real progress is made when the nonsense is dispensed with. Ramius insists you're smarter than anyone gives you credit for. Fine. We'll dispense with the nonsense and get down to it."
Wow. Not what I expected. I expected more shouting. Ultimatums maybe. A more restrained response threw me completely off.
"So…You wanted to talk."
"I wanted to do a few things," Piggot said. She turned her chair, eyes casting a look out the window. "First, I owe you an apology."
"For Stalker?"
"I won't belabor the point. I gave her too much trust. I should have known better. What she did she did, and the buck stops at me."
"I'm over it." Piggot gave me a skeptical look. "It's being dealt with. I have more important things to be doing than bemoaning my lost childhood."
"As you wish. Armstrong is handling the rest of the matter going forward. It would be inappropriate for me to involve myself given the circumstances."
I shrugged. I didn't want to talk about it with anyone, least of all her. If I ever did want to talk about it, I'd seek out a psychiatrist.
"But in my experience," Piggot continued, "parahumans treat trauma too flippantly. I'll speak nothing more of the matter but to say a psychiatrist never hurt anyone. The PRT can point you to ones who can be trusted."
"You made the offer," I said.
Piggot nodded, saying nothing about my somewhat tense suggestion to change the subject.
"Matters between you and the PRT have understandably been complicated by a number of factors. Most of those have been addressed in one form or another now. Can we agree on that?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. Some change of subject.
"Yes."
"Then it's time to talk about what happens next. Do you intend to join the Wards?"
"No."
I couldn't. Kid Win seemed alright, but my experiences with Valiant and Aegis came with their own hiccups. Vista apparently found me "intense." Even if none of them were as bad as Sophia, they still sat in the same rooms as her. Knew her, the kind of person she was.
I didn't believe Sophia behaved any differently as a Ward than she did at Winslow.
They knew, or they chose not to know.
Still, a firm denial like that might cost me ground going forward.
Unless I followed it with something else.
"But I haven't made up my mind about the Protectorate. Maybe, in three years when I'm eighteen, and past all the high school crap."
Piggot nodded.
And to add to that, I asked, "Is it possible for the PRT to make available classes in parahuman studies to an independent?"
Piggot raised her brow. "We can."
"I know Ramius did a lot to get me moved to Arcadia. But as someone recently described, school isn't a very happy place for me. I'm taking the GED this summer."
"And you want to start taking college courses?"
"The Wards take those classes, don't they?"
Piggot's brow went higher. "You'd take classes with them, but you won't join them?"
"Might as well get a degree in something. And they'll be in the Protectorate too someday, right? I might not be comfortable joining them, but I can't ignore them either."
And if I hung out with the Wards, even a little, Piggot got a feather in her cap. Surely, she saw that.
An easy sacrifice for me to make.
I kind of wanted to take the classes. Figure some things out about my powers, and other things. It seemed a good way to maintain a broader relationship with the PRT than just Ramius. A hassle, but a hassle that might come in handy later.
"I'd have to clear it with the Wards." Piggot said. "They take the classes privately and out of sight. They usually don't wear masks."
"You already know who I am. Even if you don't tell the Wards what happened to Stalker I'm betting they're smart enough to figure out it relates to me. No point in beating around the bush about it."
"If you're willing to unmask to the Wards, that's your choice. It's their choice to do the same. I'll speak with Aegis about it." The woman grunted. "Ramius is right about you. You already know how the game is played."
"I'm content to continue working with Ramius. I trust her. As for games, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Fair enough. But thus far, Ramius has stuck her head out on multiple occasions for you. I hope you appreciate that the good lieutenant hasn't been making friends."
"I suspected."
"Good. Then you understand it helps everyone if we can cooperate going forward. You were willing to do that with us once."
"I was." And if we're being frank, "You ignored me."
"Just because we don't come down on the gangs like a hammer doesn't mean we ignored you. Calvert's office tracked and collated all your intel. That's how Amanda got a hold of it in the first place."
"And you didn't do anything with it."
"Manhattan."
…
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Manhattan," Piggot repeated. "The Gold War. I'm given to understand capes see visions of it when near a Case Sixty-Six."
I remembered, though the memory of what I saw seemed ever more muddled. The water between me and the things I saw murkier each passing day.
She said she wanted to talk frankly, but that didn't seem very subtle. Mostly hyperbolic. Or I was imagining it. A Piggot who thought me an idiot or a fool made more sense than one that respected me. My experience with administrators, right? Or was it? Ms. Greene treated me well, and Ms. Badgiruel seemed okay. Reasonable people, not inept idiots like Blackwell who never bothered to do their job right.
Which is it I'm dealing with?
"And it relates to this how?"
"It relates to why the PRT operates the way it does," Piggot said. "The PRT doesn't go smashing in walls and blowing up drug stashes because we know what happens when capes drop all pretense."
Not a single cape in Brockton Bay compared to Scion, far as I could tell the strongest cape to ever live. No one in the bay even compared to the first Eidolon. Red Comet. Blackout. Dagon. Sune.
The only cape who even came close to that level of raw power in the city was Lung, and maybe Stratos.
Piggot looked down her nose at me.
"You really think Kaiser and his ilk couldn't destroy Brockton Bay if pushed past the limit?"
Not like Manhattan, though if we were speaking in a more abstract sense?
"If you're worried I don't know when to stop, don't."
"I feel like I should. You've only been truly active a matter of weeks. In that time, you threatened every villain in the city with outing, destroyed more property than Glory Girl has in an entire year, and broke more bones than I have troopers."
"Rather than wait to let any of that sit, you jumped right into arresting two capes, capes from a gang you have a particular focus on. From where I sit, you're a loose cannon."
Diplomatic, I told myself.
Did that mean knuckling under and taking her criticism? Did that benefit me more than it hurt? Would Piggot even buy it if I pretended?
Well, we were being frank, right?
"I've pushed, sure. But from where I sit, the PRT and Protectorate aren't doing that much."
To put it gently. More frankly, they were too busy with vanity projects and false peace to bother helping anything.
"You can't eliminate crime. It'll always be there. A city that lives with it is a city that still exists."
"Not like this," I asserted, shaking my head. "It doesn't have to be like this."
"This is better than any number of bloody alternatives."
"It just sounds better on TV news."
Piggot scoffed. "Ramius told me that you and I sitting alone wouldn't end well."
"That seems like something she'd suggest."
"Let us be glad she overestimates my stubbornness. We're not going to sit here all day and debate right and wrong."
Piggot turned her chair, facing away from me and setting her gaze out the window.
"The matter is simple. I can't stop you from doing what you want, to a point."
To a point she says. "But you'll stop me if you think I go too far?"
"My responsibility is to this city and the people who live in it. Those above me might want to put you in a special box titled 'treat with care we want mass produced tinker tech,' but I'm under no obligation to stand on the sidelines and watch the city burn."
Now I scoffed.
"Watch my step, or you'll step in then?"
Piggot folded her hands together again. "It is my job. I might have dropped the ball on Stalker, and Teacher of late, but I take my job seriously."
"Be nice if you took it seriously before."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty."
I'm sure I'd hear that excuse again, either from her or someone else.
At least Piggot didn't plan on coming after me immediately. Talk about a pain in the ass. If I kept things at a slow, steady, pace I might avoid major conflict for months.
"You've delivered your threat." Time to change the subject again.
"Threats are for villains who need reminding of consequences. I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you what'll happen if the envelope is pushed too far."
"Right. Anything else?"
"You could talk to us. The PRT is more than capable of reminding anyone who isn't sure of where the lines are."
Is she calling me stupid?
"Can you promise me the PRT won't have any leaks in the future?"
"Of course, I can't. The reality is that no one is infallible. But I'm not talking about posting a memo on the water cooler."
I thought for a moment, wondering if I could turn that around to my own advantage. I didn't want the PRT knowing any number of things, but I didn't need to tell them. Other things they'd probably figure out themselves.
What could I get for that?
"What if I tell you who your moles are?"
"I already know a number of them."
My jaw dropped a little.
Piggot grinned.
"Smash isn't the only option. Letting moles stick around and report to their masters can be useful. Feed them the right bits of useful information to keep them credible. Give them the right misinformation when the time is right. It's not flashy, but countless crimes have been foiled in this city through counter-intelligence alone. Something I suspect you might appreciate."
"How so?" I asked.
"Wire taps on the gang's phones? Worms on their computers? Don't tell me if you want, but you have something. A line they haven't caught onto yet. You've used it well. Stayed a step ahead…though, if you or StarGazer hack the city traffic lights again for another stunt like last night, we will be having further words."
I shrugged. I didn't plan on becoming a one trick pony. Though, if Piggot figured it out, the gangs probably would soon. Maybe they already suspected. If they did, they might avoid talking about it on anything digital.
"And if I asked to be informed of when Alabaster and Victor are being transported from the city?"
"That sort of information is confidential precisely because I know we have moles. I won't be telling anyone until a few hours before it happens."
I wanted to sigh. "Would I be allowed to know?"
"If you wanted to help ensure the security of the transport, it could be arranged. I'm sure Kaiser will try to free them, either during transit or after. I'm afraid I can do little to ensure they stay in their cells once they're there."
"I've noticed."
"Uber and Leet?" Piggot grunted. "There aren't enough heroes to spend them on guard duty at prisons. Though, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't somewhat purposeful. So long as the villains think they have a chance at breaking out, they don't fight so hard to avoid going in in the first place. Let's us separate the common crooks from the real bastards."
"I'm sure Hookwolf's victims will be very happy to know such consideration went into criminal rehabilitation."
"It's not a perfect world, but it's the one we happen to have."
Convenient platitude.
As good a time as any for the big question I suppose.
I needed to know.
"Have you considered that the Empire has never been this vulnerable?"
"Don't overestimate yourself. The damage you've inflicted is hardly a mere flesh wound, but Kaiser has endured worse. He'll get Victor and Alabaster back or replace them with any of the dozens of other Nazi capes around the country."
"Maybe. But he'll have to use some of his own capes to try and break them out. My bet? He'll send Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket to do it. Maybe Krieg and Rune. In either scenario, for a few days the Empire won't be down two capes. They'll be down four or five."
Piggot raised her brow. Surprise? At me, her herself?
It's what I continually didn't get about the PRT. They focused so much on the capes, but they lost the forest for the trees.
The capes needed their unpowered henchmen. They needed their fronts. Their drugs. Their guns. Lung might be able to hold onto his territory through raw power and reputation, but he still had the ABB. Without them, what is Lung?
A giant dragon man in a china shop. Not remotely the kind of danger on par with a major criminal organization with an agenda.
"With most of their dirty cops in jail," I noted. "I know where everything is. The drugs, the guns, the money. Fronts and suppliers. If Brockton Bay threw everything at them in that one window, how much damage could be done to the Empire?"
Piggot gave me an assessing gaze.
Humoring me when she claimed to acknowledge my maturity, perhaps?
"And when Kaiser calls Night and Fog from retirement?" Piggot asked. "Purity from Boston? Don't be naïve. If it were so simple to get rid of the Nazi fucks, we'd have done it a long time ago. Kaiser has support nationally and internationally. He always has more resources to call on. It's not as simple as draining him and pushing him out of the city."
"Failure is a reality I've learned to live with," I quipped. "But it's not going to stop me from trying. Would you really pass this chance up without even trying to come up with a plan?"
"And when he lashes out and the city suffers? It won't be Kaiser I send the Protectorate to bring to heel."
I frowned deeply.
Like Shadow Stalker, I tried to push the emotional reaction from my mind.
It's one thing to look at all the reasons we might fail, but she didn't even want to entertain the possibility of success?
Nice not to be disappointed for once. The PRT rose exactly to my expectations, subtle threats and do-nothing attitude and all.
I wanted to sigh.
Well, no point dwelling. I didn't really intend to make that push against Kaiser just yet, but hearing Piggot say she'd come after me for making it?
That's that.
"This is what I'm talking about," Piggot warned. "You can't just flip the table over and declare yourself the winner. Every other player will react. They'll close in. The balance in this city is too delicate and lives hang in that balance"
"The balance in the city is paid by all the people out there that you ignore in the name of peace. A false peace. A vanity project."
Piggot scowled. "Do I need to bring Militia back in here?"
"No," I answered. "A false peace is important. It's the calm that lets people get on with their lives and believe it can all work out in the end. The PRT and Protectorate give that to people, and the world can keep turning because of it."
I turned my chin down, my shoulders relaxed.
"But it's still false, and it'll break. Someone has to make it real. And if that someone fails then they must keep trying. It's the only way forward."
The older woman took on a grim expression. She inhaled through her nose and leaned back in her seat. I stared back at her, waiting.
An air of finality over took the room.
We both knew, right then and there I think. Not that either of us said anything or readily admitted it.
Sooner or later, one way or another…Newtype and the PRT would come to blows.
It's time to get a move on. "We'll see."
Piggot's frown was small. "We'll see."
When I stepped into the hall Militia and the troopers were still there, plus another.
Ramius glanced between Piggot and I. Did she expect us to spontaneously combust? Start hitting each other in the world's most bizarre fat woman on skinny girl cat fight? She looked it, cautiously watching and ready to jump in between us.
Maybe for the best she didn't sit in on that talk. She didn't need to be burdened any more by my intractability than necessary.
"Is there anything else?"
"Not at the moment," Piggot said. "Have a pleasant day Newtype. Militia. Walk with me."
The woman followed, but the two troopers stayed with me.
I turned toward the elevator and started walking.
"What happened?" Ramius asked.
A casual exchange of veiled threats, petty insults, and coming to a mutual understanding neither of us said out loud? I think. Maybe. It felt weird. Piggot and I seemed to be on similar wavelengths. I felt like I understood her a bit better than I managed with most people.
"We talked," I said.
"About what?"
"The future."
"And that would be?"
There's no future here.
I clearly couldn't rely on the PRT, not long term. I didn't think they were evil. In some ways, I looked back and decided I judged them too harshly. The world did need the PRT. Without them, what help did anyone have? Who'd support capes in fighting the Endbringers, or hold the gangs back at all?
But they lacked the conviction to go any farther, or the will. Expecting them to help me overturn a decade of decline in Brockton Bay was hopeless.
Plan A it is.
"Some people are destined to not get along," I surmised.
I stepped out of the elevator onto the roof, Red and O Gundam both right where I left them.
Well…almost.
Ramius and the troopers with me both looked down, the two troopers and Red looking up.
"This is why you keep getting shit duty private," one of the troopers with me said.
"Okay…but I get to say I played Uno with a robot."
The other three troopers shook their heads. I sighed, and wave my hand at Red.
"No fun, no fun," he chirped.
"You're on guard duty," I noted. "Not fun duty."
"Yeah Cello."
The trooper on the ground surrendered his cards and waved his hand in the air.
Glancing back to the troopers, and then to Ramius, I said, "I'm sorry I keep making problems for you."
Ramius smiled weakly. "I've had easier assignments."
"It's not going to get easier."
Ramius didn't look happy, but she wasn't running away either. "I don't do what I do because I want easy.".
Maybe not completely hopeless.
Red, Green and Purple rolled into their cradles, and I climbed into O Gundam.
"I'm working on something for everyone from Winslow," I said. "It's not ready yet."
"What is it?"
"A version of my Haros designed to be a medical assistant," I explained. "They'd be able to see the victims through cameras and help doctors and nurses."
"That would be appreciated, but can you support it?"
"I won't need to. They're not going to be Tinkertech, and they'll repair themselves."
To hell with irrational fear. Someone would make robots that did it one way or another. Not doing it because something bad might happen is staving off the inevitable instead of tackling it head on.
"That's…ambitious."
"I prefer hopeful."
The suit closed around me, and the drive spun up. I lifted off the roof and turned south, flying above the road while people below pointed and took pictures.
"What happened at the abbey?" I asked.
Veda showed me the footage.
"I'm coming. Call Dinah."
At the end of the street I rose well above the buildings and out of sight.
The area around the abbey consisted of residences, and a few small businesses. Lots of trees and hills disrupted long lines of sight, and I approached by lowering myself and following a creek. It ran along behind the abbey, letting me reach the building without being seen. I emerged into the sky for only a brief second to get over the roof.
I lowered myself slowly, landing in the courtyard at the center of the grounds.
A few older women clothed in black shuffled away, but an elderly woman remained seated on the steps of a pair of double doors. In front of her, Pink sat in a bed of flowers, watching a short girl approach me.
My suit opened, and I stepped out.
The girl discarded the bandeau and coif covering her head, and the habit afterward. Underneath she wore a tight top and jean shorts, which seemed a little scandalous for an abbey. The sister seated on the steps certainly didn't seem to approve.
I gave her a quizzical look and she shrugged.
"Not my style," she said.
I admit, I felt a little jealous seeing her.
Laughter, or Lafter Frankland, was a gorgeous girl. We were about the same age, but her development put mine to shame. Wide hips, a full bust, and a pretty face. The pigtails made her look a little cutesy rather than hot but it worked for her.
A wonderful reminder of my body image issues.
"You do have a style," I admitted. "The sisters lied for you? Told Armsmaster you'd run off while keeping you inside."
"How'd you figure it out?" she asked with a small smile.
"This order of nuns makes a habit of helping wharf rats," I said. "I wouldn't worry. I only noticed because of a coincidence and if anyone else figured they'd have done something already."
The tension in her arms stayed, coiled and ready to strike. Not like Hookwolf and Sophia, but not dissimilar either. A similar air hung around her. Made me a little uncomfortable, but Dinah said she could be trusted if I won her over.
"Cool robot," she said.
"Its name is Gundam."
"Neat. What do you want?"
"To ask you a question or two."
"Questions like what?"
"Why did you put on a mask and beat up bad parents?"
She shrugged in response. "I never laid a finger on anyone. If people have a habit of coming into unfortunate accidents in my presence, that's hardly my fault."
A threat?
Probably, but a defensive one I thought. Far as I could tell, she'd lived most of the past half decade the abbey. The sisters sheltered and protected her even after she was outed. Even if she didn't like the way they dressed, she probably wanted to protect them.
"And the reason they came to accidents?" I asked.
"I'm a fan of irony. People lording their power over others deserve a little karmic retribution."
"Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord," the sister snapped with a stern look.
Laughter flinched and glanced back. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"Then say what you mean," the sister replied. "And what did I tell you about dressing like a whore?"
"You don't have to say it like that…"
"What were you planning to do?" I asked, drawing her attention back to me. "Hide out for the rest of your life?"
Lafter turned. "Hadn't really thought about it. Figured I'd just lay low for a while."
"You're aware I threatened to out anyone who goes after other capes in violation of the unwritten rules?"
"I heard about it."
"You could try going back to your life. Try and be normal."
She shrugged and waved one hand in the air. "Normal is boring."
"You're going to put your mask back on?"
"Maybe, maybe not. What does it matter to you?"
I watched her, thinking.
People like Martin Luther King, Ghandi, and Paul get all the credit. They deserve a lot to be fair. But history is rife with the corpses of dead dreamers and visionaries who sought to remake the world and failed. What set them apart? What allowed some to live on in metaphorical immortality while the rest became footnotes or tragedies.
Those that follow carry on the dreams left unfinished…The uncounted change the world as much as the men who get their faces carved into stone.
I couldn't hide, afraid to trust, forever.
I needed to cast a long shadow.
A door behind me opened, a sister leading a small girl in a yellow and white body suit into the courtyard. Her mask completely encompassed her head, brown hair sticking out the back in a single braid. Purple followed behind her, descending the sky above and staying just over her left shoulder.
I didn't plan it out, but Dinah had excellent timing.
Lafter looked past me. "Friend of yours?"
"A partner. Forecast."
Dinah raised her head. She looked good in her costume, but I could see her shaking a little.
"Hi," she said.
Lafter glanced between us. "You two are like, opposites. You know that?"
I glanced down at Dinah, and Dinah glanced up at me.
I suppose, in a way we were. I was tall for my age. Dinah was short for hers. Blues and whites marked my costume, with a little black here and there. In comparison, Dinah sported yellow and white with a little gray.
Not how I intended it, but things work out in odd ways sometimes.
"So, what, there's three of you now?" Lafter asked.
"There have been three of us from the beginning," Veda revealed.
Lafter glanced to Pink, the Haro still resting in the flower bed.
"Some kind of secret?" she asked
"I never said there were one, two, or any of us," I replied. "If people want to assume things, that's hardly my fault. Though I admit, letting people make the wrong assumptions about me is something I've fostered. Gives me an advantage."
"Why tell me?"
Her tone said she already knew the answer, and that she might need some convincing.
I hesitated.
Trust was hard for me.
People don't get powers because they're happy. There's nothing wrong with being a bullied girl, but I'm more than that. I needed to be more than that. The world is bigger than my life's issues.
"When you look around you, what do you think?" I asked.
"What do I think?" Lafter asked back.
"About the world? Are you satisfied with it?"
She frowned and cocked her head to one side.
"How about you skip to the point and tell me what you see?"
Silencing any doubt, I reached up and pulled my mask from my head.
Lafter's eyes widened and blinked a few times as I did. The sisters around us, curiously, both looked away. Dinah remained still at my side, apparently unsurprised by my choice.
I looked Lafter in the eye.
"This world doesn't care about people. Tyrants run this city, and others. And racists, and drug peddlers. The world allows it because the suffering of some is seen as preferable to losing the comfort of others. The people with the power to fix it are unwilling or don't care to try. The heroes are a vanity project without substance. Hypocrites who tell the world it's safe when they know it's not. The weak get trampled on because they're weak, and the strong think strength lets them do whatever they want."
Lafter's gaze narrowed.
My hands tightened at my sides.
The truth?
"I hate it."
