Step 6.O

Eve paced toward the wall.

She checked her phone. Nothing.

She paced back toward the van.

Telling herself it would be fine over and over again didn't help. While the PRT managed to capture Alabaster more than once, they'd never captured Victor before. They'd never held two Empire capes at once in fact.

No mistakes, Kaiser said. No fuck ups.

She agreed completely. After all, Victor's freedom hung on the line.

And even if Max tried to pretend everything was business as usual, everyone felt it. Except maybe Cricket. Cricket didn't seem to care much about anything but the next fight. The rank and file too. Most of them simply lacked the perspective the capes did owing to their typically lower positions in the organization.

The rest of them knew though.

The Empire needed to win.

The Merchants held fast even with two of their capes captured. The ABB kept hitting Empire territory whenever they started pushing in, and the Merchants hit them back. The PRT and the Protectorate didn't even step in unless capes showed up, and that mostly resulted in lots of staring and no action.

A stalemate.

Worse than a loss in Eve's mind. A loss at least galvanized the rank and file. Got them to stand up for their race against drug addicts and squints.

Instead they got to enjoy the mediocre frustration of making no progress one way or the other. That little race traitor—assuming she wasn't a Jew with that hair—managed to force them into a corner and she didn't even have a suit anymore!

The bitch turned more than half their stocked guns into slag, and only one in a half-dozen shipments of new arms made it into the city. The few shipments they'd slipped in absent Newtype's harassment didn't make up for how much they'd already lost. The guns existed, but they didn't have the free cash to acquire them now.

Even having Medhall to smuggle things through didn't help. Drug shipments kept getting mixed up, shipments of worthless medication finding its way to the dealers while the street goods ended up in pharmacies and hospitals. Naturally the police came in and confiscated the drugs. Drugs the Empire couldn't get back with all their moles in prison.

No amount of security upgrades seemed to keep StarGazer out of Medhall's system. Newtype might not be outing anyone, but she clearly seemed comfortable using what she knew to hurt the Empire subtly. Who were they going to complain to, the police? Watchdog?

As powerful as the Empire's cape roster might be, they needed their rank and file. They needed the rank and file to be proud and confident. For them to feel like capes themselves, and see the real capes as the best in the city. They needed to feed themselves in a city where most of the economy lay in black markets and drugs.

Newtype's entire strategy seemed to be set on destroying that. And it was working.

No one had pushed the Empire so hard since the fucking Slaughterhouse Nine came through the city.

"You okay, ma'am?"

Eve raised her head and looked at Hamlen.

She didn't know the man well, but she knew his reputation. Prison sentences for assault twice, and he never ratted or cut a deal. He showed his age on his wrinkled face and fading tattoos, but being over fifty didn't seem to make him any weaker.

Muscles covered his body, and broad shoulders. Bruises on his fists marked him as a fighter. Hookwolf's kind of man, of course.

"Fine," Eve grunted.

Hamlen nodded. "Nothing wrong with being anxious ma'am."

The other three men Kaiser assigned her stood about the old garage. All younger than Hamlen, two about Eve's age and one younger. Two seemed fairly green, but the fact they got sent to her meant they had a certain amount of trust.

Eve checked her phone again.

Still nothing.

Almost midnight.

Krieg's source in the PRT said they planned to move Victor and Alabaster around midnight on the ninth. The heroes might fudge that time, but not by much. They'd use decoys too, but their mole told them which transports were fake.

They just didn't know the route.

Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket waited outside the city to intercept, and Othala would ride out to meet them once they knew where. Dauntless and Stratos were set to guard the van, with the rest of the Protectorate playing it normal or guarding decoys.

Not an easy combo to deal with. Armsmaster and the sand nigger got a lot of the press, but Dauntless and Stratos were the Protectorate's real muscle in Brockton Bay.

Her gifts only lasted a few minutes, but some super speed should let the four men with her hit Stratos from behind. Then they only needed to keep Dauntless at bay to free Victor and Alabaster.

She hated waiting, especially since it usually meant sticking it out in abandoned garages and basements with some shady looking van and some randoms thrown together ad hoc. She understood the purpose, of course. Her role in the Empire didn't include being direct. She needed to remain an ever constant threat, one that might appear anywhere and get someone back on their feet or throw empowered thugs at a problem.

She just didn't particularly enjoy waiting while her friends and family took all the hits.

Patching them up only alleviated so much worry.

"So, what's it like?"

Eve raised her head, looking at the men in turn before finding the one with a red face.

He swallowed, asking, "I mean, when you got your power? What's that like?"

Eve frowned.

"Not very familiar with capes, are you?" Hamlen asked. "What's your name?"

"Jessie, sir."

"Well Jessie, the first rule of capes is that you never ask them that question." Hamlen turned his gaze to Eve. "Sorry ma'am. I guess no one told him."

"It's fine," Eve said. "Be happy I'm not Hookwolf. He'd tear your arms off."

Jessie paled slightly, and Eve turned her back to him. Better for him to feel bad asking her than Brad. That would not end well. Not so much because Meadows didn't like talking about it so much that he'd hate the presumption of anyone asking.

"Don't sweat it kid," Hamlen said. "Everyone makes that mistake the first time."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Just take it in stride and move on."

At least Hamlen seemed to know his shit. Better than some of the idiots Kaiser stuck her with. Most of them best fell under a category labeled "expendable."

Eve started pacing again, stopping halfway back to the van when her phone rang.

A new message flashed on the screen.

HM: it's time
Lt: the word came down, vans are moving

Othala turned and got into the van. Hamlen took the driver's seat, and rookies piled into the back. Othala directed them, making sure to seat herself in a place where all four were in arm's reach.

"Go," she said.

"Directions?"

"Incoming."

She held her phone up and waited.

They didn't know the exact route. Rune needed to follow from above, and keep an eye out. As the PRT got further from the city center, it would get easier to determine which way they planned to go.

They'd move Victor and Alabaster to Providence.

Only three major roads led west from Brockton Bay, with a half dozen side roads.

SttN: going west on 50th

"Go north," Othala said. "Toward the interstate."

The van lurched forward, pulling onto a ramp and driving up onto the street.

HM: eyes on the sky girl
SttN: I'm watching

Othala calmed herself as they moved and shadowed the PRT. Newtype lost her suit in that assassination debacle. She'd build a new one eventually, but in just over a week?

She couldn't possibly have a replacement yet. After her early debut in winter she vanished for nearly a month before reappearing with the first suit.

If she interfered, she'd be on foot with her race traitor friend. The idiot. Easy enough to handle once Hookwolf got a hold of them.

That thought brought a small smile to Othala's face.

SttN: they're going off the highway
SttN: mountain road south of CH
ReleasetheHounds: on our way

Othala used her phone to open a map and started looking. If the PRT intended to leave the city, going northwest, then they'd need to pass the mountains. Not a bad plan, if the Empire didn't already know exactly what vehicle to follow.

That narrowed it down to one major road, and four side roads.

The van went through the streets into Captain's Hill, and then west toward the highway. One spot in the mountains gave a good view of the roads. A summer camp for kids when schools let out, but it should still be closed.

"Go right up here," Othala said. "Speed up."

"Ma'am," Hamlen said.

LayonHands: there's a service road ahead
LayonHands: going to set up there

The van sped through toward the city edge, rushing through lights and signs to get ahead of the PRT vehicle. The road got rough and uneven. Gravel from the feel of it.

"Get ready," Othala said. "When we get there, we're going to wait. Hookwolf will derail the truck and I'll put my hands on you. When I do, you need to run as fast as you can and knock Stratos over."

The three boys frowned. "Stratos?"

"He won't be able to hit you," Othala said. "It's easier to feel it out than explain it, so just man up."

They didn't need to do the job well.

They just needed to do it.

The PRT might as well have announced 'Stratos is going to Brockton Bay to counter Lung, Hookwolf, Mush, and Kaiser.' More or less the truth. Before he got assigned to the city the Protectorate didn't have anyone who could directly handle powerful brutes and shakers.

"Just keep Stratos off Hookwolf's back," Othala said. "He'll buy you all a beer later."

They nodded and started psyching themselves up. They always did it the same way, the expendables. First they looked at each other nervously, like they wanted to see what the others might do. When no one backed down they started nodding like idiots. Then they began patting each other on the shoulders.

Othala kept an eye on Rune's instructions.

The service roads snaked across the mountain. Most ran from an old national park. Mostly the summer camps dominated the area now.

SttN: south road

"Take a left," Othala said, "go until the path ends."

"Ma'am."

Othala pushed her phone into her pocket, foot tapping against the floor.

When the van stopped she threw the door open and stepped out. She vaguely noted the building before them at the end of the road. One of the old ranger stations, with boards covering the windows.

The mountains around Brockton Bay weren't high, but they were steep. At the edge of the service road she looked down, able to make out the dark line the country road cut around the southern base. She didn't see the lights of any cars.

"Stay close to me," she said.

Hamlen killed the engine and got out. All four men gathered around her and waited.

Still no lights.

She pulled out her phone.

ReleasetheHounds: in position

He must have killed the lights.

SttN: almost there

Othala raised her head and squinted.

"Get ready."

She saw the lights in the distance. Not many people driving on remote mountain roads this time of night.

Othala raised her right hand and put it on Hamlen's shoulder, and the other went to…

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Um, George."

George.

"Get ready," she said.

Othala put her hand on his collar. Her power swelled. It's a strange sensation. Her palms started to feel cold as she prepared to part with the gift. It always felt like giving something of herself up, something that returned, but felt missing while someone else used it.

The light grew closer. She didn't see Rune, but Ruth might be as much as a mile in the air. Hard to see someone in the night sky like that.

Unless they were Newtype, shining that fucking light everywhere. Mocking anyone who watched, daring them to try and stop her.

Othala pushed that thought away, focusing on the power she wanted to give.

No sign of Hookwolf, but he might be anywhere in those shadows.

"Get ready. Don't move until Hookwolf stops the van."

The men nodded.

The lights grew closer and closer, shining across the trees below.

Othala's jaw slackened.

The car passed. A car, a completely normal looking four door sedan. Not armored or reinforced in any way, or marked. No way the PRT transported two criminals in something so mundane, even if they wanted to maintain a low profile and escape notice.

Othala looked down the road, but didn't see any other lights.

"Was something supposed to happen?" George asked.

Othala removed her hand from his shoulder, her power receding back into her.

LayonHands: where is the van?

An answer didn't come at first. Othala glanced to Hamlen, but the man just shook his head.

HM: the real question is
SttN: why didn't the Empire stop the van yesterday?
Lt: totally missed your chance

Eve raised her brow.

ReleasetheHounds: might it be
Walkure: someone turned an 8 into a 9?
JackofTrades: what dashing hero could do such a thing?

Her fingers pressed against her phone, the knuckles going white.

Eve snarled. "You bitch."

"Well that's just rude," a voice—hervoice—said from Eve's burner phone. "We're professionals Othala, no need to make things so personal."

Yesterday. The PRT moved Victor yesterday?

"You're lying," Eve hissed. She ignored Hamlen trying to get her attention. "Another one of your tricks."

"Do I have you guys so twisted up you're seeing conspiracies in my conspiracies? Damn. I didn't think I was that good. Not yet."

"Othala!"

Eve raised her head. The fist struck her in the jaw. Her brain bounced in her skull, and she felt the ground hit her back.

A gun fired, and something flashed by her.

She scrambled to her feet, head snapping around to look at the boy.

Tall, with broad shoulders and white-gray armor. She recognized him from the news.

"Chariot?"

The wetback stuttered. "Um. Hi?"

"I'd start running, Cheerio," Newtype said from the phone.

Othala snatched up the device. Hamlen raised a gun over her head and fired. Chariot flashed to the side, and then vanished in a trail of dust leading into the woods.

"After him!" George shouted. He started running, the fourth boy—she never got his name—followed.

"No!" Othala shouted.

It's a fucking trap! AGAIN!

"Ma'am?" Hamlen asked.

"Stop them!" She shouted. "He's just trying to lead them away!"

Othala snatched her phone and started dialing.

"Honestly," Newtype said. "I'm literally talking out of your phone, who do you think you're going to call?"

Worth a shot, she figured.

Hamlen pulled George and his friend back, gun pointed at the woods Chariot ran into. She didn't see the boy, but as fast as he moved he might already be behind them again.

"Recruiting illegals now heeb?" Othala asked

"You know," Newtype said. "The irony is that there is an illegal immigrant on the team—"

"And it's the blonde!"

Othala spun around, a beam of pink light slamming into her stomach. She felt the heat through her costume, and slammed her teeth together. The pained wheeze still escaped her lips, but she grabbed hold of the other race traitor.

Laughter smiled.

"Gotcha."

Othala threw her elbow forward, like Victor showed her.

Laughter leaned back, her entire body twisting away from the blow until she swung one foot up into Othala's jaw. The other followed, and the girl flipped back while Othala fell.

They're trying to stop me from using my power.

"Hamlen!"

She shouted his name as she scrambled back. He came toward her, dragging Jessie along. She reached her hand out, only noticing the dust kick into the air before screaming in pain.

Chariot slid to a stop on her left, both hands up. Eve clutched at her side, fairly certain he broke a rib with that hit.

"Crap," he said. "Sorry, sorry!"

"We don't apologize to the bad guys, Cheerio," Newtype said.

"We hit them," Laughter added. "Repeatedly."

"Can we at least use my real cape name?" Chariot asked.

"No," Laughter and Newtype said.

Hamlen fired his gun at Laughter, but the girl's body turned out of the way as he shot. Chariot sped forward and pushed Othala back to the ground as she rose.

"Sorry!"

"Stop apologizing!"

Othala needed a moment to realize she shouted the words.

Chariot stared at her. "Sorry?"

"Almost makes you wonder if he's Canadian!" Laughter said.

She ducked under Hamlen's arm and swung her lightsaber into his side. He grunted, a big arm coming down and trapping the cape. Othala cursed and kicked Hamlen in the leg with her foot.

The power swelled, and she allowed herself a smile.

"Huh." Laughter cocked her head to one side. "I hate it when Forecast is right."

Othala raised her head. What?

Laughter lifted her feet and pushed off of Hamlen. He didn't move, the invincibility Othala granted him making the man impervious. Laughter did escape his reach, her back sliding over the ground before him. He stalked toward Laughter, his fists going up in a boxer's stance.

Othala barely noticed the glimmer of the line until Hamlen lifted off the ground, pulled into the air by his wrist.

Laughter sighed. "I'm gonna get so much sass when we get back."

Hamlen flailed in the air, his body wrenched up by one wrist. Above, Othala saw three small objects in the night sky. Newtype's robots?

"Thanks for that," Newtype said. "I really didn't want to break his arm—much—and the invincibility should keep it in one piece. Good job."

"Seriously," Laughter called. She ran toward Jessie and George, a second lightsaber appearing in her other hand. "You're making this really easy!"

Laughter kicked George in the knee and ran both her sabers across Jessie's chest. The boys tried to fight, but the girl weaved between them. A flurry of blows landed on their bodies, all the while with Hamlen stuck in the air and—

Where did whats-his-name go?

Othala lifted her head and saw him lying on the ground. He breathed, and his eyes were open, but he didn't move. Why didn't he move?

Othala snarled. She couldn't lose, not now.

She looked to the side and leaped, grabbing Hamlen's gun and turning it on Laughter. She ran to the side, the bullets zipping over and around her. Chariot struck Othala in the back again, but this time she turned with the pain and grabbed him.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed.

He hit the ground, and she turned the gun to his side. Chariot fought back, pushing her gun hand away and—His hand slipped something around her wrist.

She saw the shine again, a white line in the moonlight.

Othala cursed as the line pulled tight and the ground began moving beneath her. The scene of Laughter fighting the two still standing boys sped away. Trees and brush surrounded her quickly, faint rays of moonlight filtering through the leaves above.

Eve felt her back collide with something. The line kept going, wrenching her arm back behind the tree trunk. A shadow moved in the forest. A small orb popped out of the brush. The ball hit her in the side, and then a second tied her other wrist while she recovered.

"Trapped, trapped!" Mechanical voices chirped.

They both pulled, and Othala yelped as both shoulders strained in their sockets.

She looked forward, but she couldn't see the road or the van anymore. A few flashes of light, and some shouting past the trees at the edge of the clearing.

A trap, again. The bitch got inside the phones, that's how. How she knew their every move. How she always knew exactly where to hit them. How she kept playing them for fools.

A step ahead every time.

Even this, she'd played every single step. Newtype could have just used one of her stun bombs, or swarmed the five of them with robots. Instead she showed off her superiority, rubbed in how much she'd beaten them by.

The damn bitch.

A weight settled on the ground beside her. Othala didn't look.

She refused to give the bitch the satisfaction.

"It's really not personal," Newtype offered. "Not that it matters to you, I imagine. You're just in my way." Othala scoffed. "Don't worry about Rune. I gave Krieg a heads up she needed someone to look after her."

Othala refused to feel any thanks for that. Ruth could get by fine with or without Newtype's fucking charity.

Eve breathed in.

"You can't win forever," she snarled. She looked the girl in the visor, baring her teeth. "Sooner or later, someone will get you."

Newtype rose to her feet.

"Someone will," she said. The girl took a few steps forward. "That's fine."

Leaves rustled in the woods. Chariot and Laughter coming their way? Or maybe someone managed to slip away from them. Othala didn't hold out much hope for a rescue. Not from someone like Jessie or George. Neither of them possessed the skill, or the mettle to go up against a cape and win.

"The world won't end with me," Newtype continued. "Now, not to ruin the moment, but I'm double booked for the night."

Eve didn't get much time to ponder what that meant before light flashed in the clearing. When Othala's vision cleared, she saw two figures. One tall, and clearly adult. The other not so much. A young boy maybe, or a stocky girl.

Both were tinkers. Othala recognized the look. Armored panels, equipment, and electronics all over them.

The woman looked at Othala and frowned.

"Are we interrupting?" she asked.

"Just finishing a long term project," Newtype said. "Don't mind her."

Othala snarled. As if she could be humiliated further.

"So," Newtype mumbled, "How's your week been?"

The woman growled. "Get to the point. We're not going to be friends."

"And they say civility is dead."

Chariot and Laughter entered the clearing and stopped.

"Oh," Laughter exclaimed. "More party members?"

"No," Newtype and the woman tinker said at once.

"Hello, Dodge," a woman's voice greeted. Othala turned her head towards it, but only saw one of Newtype's robots. The green one.

"StarGazer?" the boy asked.

StarGazer?

"Let's get on with it," the woman groaned. "What is it going to take for you to stop raiding my piggy bank?"

Othala flinched.

Pyrotechnical. That's her name. One of the leaders for that band of tinkers. Newtype got in the news last week for robbing them and giving the money away to charity.

The fuck?

A power play? A show of force? For who, the Empire or the tinkers?

"And Dragon said we should try to get along," Newtype mumbled. "Like I can really leave you to your arms dealing."

"You say that like it's the only thing we do," Pyrotechnical snarled.

"It's the only thing you do I care about."

"I don't care about anything you do," Laughter replied.

Chariot glanced back and forth. The kid looked nervous as hell, and Othala thought Rune was a mess on her first night. She barely believed the boy managed to trap her so easily.

Pyrotechnical groaned."On. With. IT."

"No more guns."

"What?"

Newtype cocked her head to one side. "Did I stutter?"

"You can't be serious."

"I think she's always serious," Laughter quipped. Chariot said something too low for Othala to hear. Laughter turned to him, saying, "Yeah, she is kind of scary when she's angry."

"I can't just stop selling guns," Pyrotechnical protested. "Especially not after you waved you're fucking stealing all over the Internet for everyone to see! Our reputation will be ruined. You're insane if you think I can agree to that."

"I prefer dedicated," Newtype replied. "Dedicated enough to see how many people Ali Al-Saachez killed using tech he got from you, and I decided helping the PRT and rogues out for a profit isn't enough."

She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm going to make this simple. For every person I see die at the end of Toybox tech, I'm going to donate a million dollars of your money to charity."

"You think we'll just let you?" Pyrotechnical asked.

Dodge raised his head toward her. His helmet fully encased his face, so Othala couldn't make out the expression, but his body language said something between 'nervous' and 'disbelief.'

"Careful," Newtype said. "I've been learning a lot about PR, and while I'm not an expert, I think there's a word for people who wage war against heroes because they want to sell guns to drug dealers, sex slavers, and neo-Nazis."

So that's the game then, Othala thought.

Do what I say, or I'll make you suffer. Fight back and you'll look like the villain. It would probably work, especially if she did what Kaiser always did and gave them an out.

"And I'll point out," Newtype added, "I said 'I see.' I'm hardly capable of policing the entire world, so keep arming African warlords if you can live with it. I have my own problems to deal with on this side of the Atlantic. For now."

And there's the out.

Pyrotechnical tapped her foot on the ground. "And?"

"And?" Newtype asked back.

"And you said a million dollars. I figure I lost two-fifty so you could make a point. What's the five-hundred for?"

"Oh. Well, I figure Sam Stansfield is at least half your fault."

Stansfield?

"Stansfield?" Pyrotechnical asked. "The Blue Cosmos guy?"

"Someone wanted to inject him with something I think Glace made. I want to know who bought it."

Pyrotechnical scoffed. "I can't tell you that. If I told you that—"

"I wouldn't have to make another point. It's a freezing solution. Cryogenics. Glace's specialty, right?"

"We wouldn't know," Dodge answered.

"Dodge—"

"What? We don't. We don't know most of the people we sell stuff to. They just buy it and I use my tech to drop it off for pick up."

Newtype turned to the boy. "When, and where?"

"Dodge," Pyrotechnical warned.

"I didn't see anyone," he continued. "It's just a dead drop in the Boat Graveyard."

"And this city is covered in traffic cameras," Newtype pointed out. "So, day and time. Or I can just finish off that million and start fishing for anyone killed by Toybox tech in the last two decades."

Pyrotechnical cursed. Figured. The Empire didn't buy from her, but Coil did. That snake probably kept a couple bodies buried here and there.

"Fine," Pyrotechnical snapped. "Fine. You've made your point. I don't make enough money around here to make it worth measuring dicks with you."

"Hey!" Laughter snapped. "Minors are present!"

"Don't care!" Pyrotechnical roared. "Send her an email, Dodge. We're leaving."

Dodge started messing with his gauntlet, a small pad and screen popping out of a panel below his wrist.

"You sure?" Newtype asked. "I sent a pair of Haros out for pizza."

"Fuck you."

Newtype scoffed. "You know what the sad part is Pyrotechnical?"

"That I'm not an immature child giving you the fight you so clearly want?"

"That there are thirty of you, and what have any of you been doing this whole time?"

Pyrotechnical put a hand on Dodge's shoulder. He seemed surprised for a moment before light flashed again. They were gone after that.

"So…" Laughter rubbed the back of her head. "That went, well?"

"StarGazer?" Newtype asked.

"I have the date and time," the voice from the robot said. Sounded a lot like Newtype actually. Maybe a little older? Strange.

The entire meeting was strange, from threatening Toybox to caring about some old big wig in Blue Cosmos. Eve understood the Toybox bit. Heroes, black and white, good bad blah blah. But the old man?

Othala hardly cared to figure it out. Too busy laughing.

"Why is she laughing?" Chariot asked.

"Well, she obviously thinks it went well." Laughter leaned forward. "Or she's mocking me, which I don't think I appreciate?"

"I'm laughing at you," Eve said, staring at Newtype. "Can't wait for my one phone call. I'll get to tell Kaiser not to worry! At the rate you make friends you'll be dead in a year!"

Laughter and Chairot both turned to Newtype. The tall girl put up a good front. She didn't visibly react at all, but as young as she must be? Othala figured she'd jumped in like a lot of new capes. Didn't think things through. For all her foresight, and all her ability to manipulate, she was still just a kid.

"And in a year Kaiser will be joining you in a cell." Newtype turned, looking down at Othala. "So, I guess we're both going to be disappointed. But you know what the difference is, Othala?"

"That I've got an ass and you don't?"

If not for her voice Eve might mistake the girl for a boy.

"That when I'm done with the Empire, there won't be anything left. Just a bunch of racists scrambling around without a head."

Newtype crouched in front of her.

"And when the world is done with me, Celestial Being will still be standing, because I'm not building an empire to the color of my skin and a fictitious sense of ethnic might."

Celestial Being?

"I'm building a movement, and it will outlive me."

Othala ignored that.

Celestial Being.

Is that supposed to be a team name? What kind of name is that? The Empire wanted to build an Empire. The Merchants wanted money. The ABB liked to look tough. New Wave had their pedantic self-righteousness to epitomize their name. The Undersiders scurried like rats, and the Protectorate 'protected.'

What the hell did Celestial Being mean?

Like an angel or something?

An angel…

Othala couldn't help but laugh again. "Celestial Being? That's what you're going to call your 'movement?'"

"Apparently," Newtype said as she rose back up.

Othala grinned.

Just a child. Naming a team something like that? They'd be derided by every media station in the country, the world even. Only the Fallen willingly associated themselves with the Endbringers and they were insane!

"The Simurgh is going to sue you."

Even she didn't wish an Endbringer on anyone, but in this case, why not? Fuck Newtype. Assuming she didn't skulk off in shame after getting thrown around, she'd be dead.

Newtype tilted her head to one side. "You think so?"

Idiot girl.

Newtype hummed, hands sliding to her hips.

"Suppose," she whispered, "I'll just have to do something about that."

Eve's smile faltered.

What?

Do something about what? About the Simurgh?

The girl kept standing, waiting as the other two heroes approached. Standing there like that didn't mean anything. Do something about the Simurgh? Every stupid child without a clue thought they might end an Endbringer.

Othala went to almost every fight. Good PR, Kaiser said. Experience. She mostly healed the injured and in seeing the broken and mutilated bodies of the dying she knew exactly what those monsters did. She knew them for what they were.

Newtype didn't mean shit against Behemoth, Leviathan, or the Simurgh. And she wanted to act casual about the idea of killing one? No…she didn't just want to kill one.

Celestial Being?

She wanted to kill it and usurp it. To take the Hope Killer and murder it with a name like that…

"You're insane," Eve muttered.

Newtype looked back over her shoulder. She frowned, as if somehow that word disgusted her. Her robots pushed Othala onto her chest, and began tying her hands behind her back.

"Red, Pink," Newtype called. "Tie her up. We'll drive her down to the PRT."

Newtype started walking away.

"She can sit in her cell and watch."