Step 6.1

I've never bluffed so hard in my life.

Think I started sweating bullets towards the end of my little game show, and my stomach still felt queasy.

Having a Neo-Nazi tied up in the back of my van didn't help much. Now. Having her tied to a tree while I threatened Toybox with things I couldn't actually do probably helped sell my confidence. I held my breath as we reentered the city, too concerned that if I looked at her even slightly she'd see through the veneer. I wouldn't put it past her to find some way of contacting Toybox and telling them I was lying through my teeth.

I kept my eyes on my phone instead, which only helped so much.

Count: it went well I take it?

StarGazer: it ended without incident

Count: I'll consider amends made in full

Smug bitch.

My ability to steal money from Toybox ended in all of fifteen seconds. I only found the accounts in the first place by backtracking the Sanc Kingdom official who paid for an international assassin to go after his own head of state. Not a particularly hard thing for Veda to do, especially not when Count decided to hand over the documents without a fight.

Only problem was, within moments of hijacking money from the first account it all vanished. I moved a little more out of Pyrotechnical's personal account an hour later to produce the illusions I could still rob from the rich and give to the poor, but that money vanished too, quickly followed by every other bank account being emptied and the money going... I still didn't know where.

I struggled to fathom anyone being fast enough to give Veda the complete slip on hundreds of millions of dollars, but someone managed it. Or something. The idea of another AI out in the world did cross my mind. Toybox might be able to produce such a thing with so many tinkers on call.

Oddly though, I didn't get the sense Pyrotechnical had any confidence their money couldn't be hijacked again. She caved easily, way too easily for someone with something like Veda around. I'd heard rumors about some kind of super cape who managed the finances of lots of villains, rogues, and even some heroes. Kind of a boogeyman people claimed to see in various world events on PHO. Mostly in the conspiracy theories part of the forum.

I'd discounted it, but now I wondered. Such a person might manage Toybox's money, and with a power for it could move all of it beyond my reach. Being outside Toybox, Pyrotechnical might lack confidence after my first breach, especially if they didn't know how mundanely I did it.

And my night wouldn't be over for a few more hours.

"So," Lafter said, "is there like, a college course for becoming a Nazi, or do you just have to be a douche?"

Othala didn't say anything.

"Cause I'm the only person here who's actually German, so I feel kind of entitled to viciously mock you."

She still didn't say anything. I didn't look back, but Green's camera let me keep an eye on things. Trevor sat as far from Othala as possible, right behind my seat. He stared off into space, neither saying, nor looking, at anything in particular.

Still not sure what to make of him.

"What do you want to do now, Trevor?" I asked.

Veda turned the van toward Downtown.

"Don't know," he mumbled. His head raised. "Won't the Empire get her back sooner or later?"

"Maybe," I said. "But I'm more than happy to make them suffer for their prize."

By the time the Empire could even try to free Othala, I'd have Astraea armed and ready.

Speaking of the Empire, I checked on the lot of them. I sent Hookwolf, Cricket, and Stormtiger south. Krieg wound up in the north, and Rune I left hovering over the PRT building waiting. They'd all managed to figure out something wasn't right, but none of them knew exactly what. Not yet. Might not put it together until they saw the morning news in a few hours.

I didn't look forward to them figuring out I'd beeen in their phones for weeks. They might get new phones, become more guarded. They might go offline completely, at least with their cape's communications.

Worth it, in a way. Barely. Without my suit I didn't have any means of stopping the Empire from freeing Victor and Alabaster, and capturing Othala. I didn't want any troopers getting hurt trying to stop the rescue either.

Really, giving up the secret of my spying was the only real way to ensure Victor and Alabaster stayed imprisoned and capturing Othala. Not a trade I liked, but a trade I'd take. Especially since capturing Othala went so smoothly, and I got to spin the whole thing in the most humiliating way possible. The Empire might even keep the information to themselves for fear of looking like absolute idiots to the other criminals in the city.

Best case scenario I got to keep spying on the ABB and Merchants with only the Empire getting wise.

Taking Othala would at least remind them I existed, and suggested my willingness to continue getting in their way even without a suit. That might give them pause. Between all the maybes and reactions I couldn't be sure of Dinah gave everything mostly even odds of going mostly my way or going mostly not my way.

Veda drove past the PRT building, Rune completely unaware in the sky above. Kind of funny in a mundane way.

"I can drop you off if you want," I said. "No need for the PRT to immediately know you were involved. Not until she spills her guts anyway."

"No. I'm okay." Trevor rubbed the back of his head. "Made my bed I guess. I'll get off with Lafter."

I didn't know what he wanted. After I gave him an earful about not showing up to my house and calling me half my cape name, he told me what happened.

It infuriated me, hearing him talk about how Martin Cranson died. How he ran away... But that's what most people do, isn't it? They look the other way. I can hate it all I want but that's the world as it stood. At least Trevor looked ashamed. Scared and confused, unsure what to do with what he'd thought and felt in those moments.

He wanted to talk to me, he said. Ask me about why I did the things I did, and how I thought it would make any difference.

He reminded me a bit of Lafter. She said she didn't think people could change, that she wanted to come along for the ride more than anything. Despite her cynicism, I got the sense Lafter wanted to fight. She wanted to at least try even if she didn't think we'd succeed. When Trevor sat on my couch, I looked at him and I saw someone who'd been defeated. He didn't see the point because he didn't see the point, not because he thought there were better ways to employ his time.

How can I claim to want to change the world. If turn my back on all the people in it who didn't think it could change?

"I can't tell you what to do," I told him. "You let that man die. What are you going to do about it now?"

We entered the Docks, and Veda pulled over to stop.

"Pink, Navy, Red. Listen to Forecast while I'm away."

"Why don't I get to boss them around?" Lafter asked.

"Because I'm more mature than you," Dinah said through Pink.

"I take offense to that."

Lafter threw the back doors open and stepped out. Trevor followed her, his head snapping left and right as they set foot on the street.

"I suggest laying low," I said. "And Chariot, the PRT is going to come calling. I imagine Piggot is going to be pissed."

"I'm more worried about my mom," Trevor said. "She's not going to get it."

Honestly, I didn't get it. He never really said he wanted to join me. He just kind of started helping?

I never set out to recruit Trevor. I still didn't know if he really qualified as a recruit. But he didn't want to join the Wards. He didn't want to waste his time on pointless patrols, PR stunts, and team exercises. I shared the opinion, though I suspected the reasons for our mutual determinations came from different places. I wanted to make the world better now, not wait a few years until some paper pushers decided I'd become sufficiently mature to do more than be kid friendly.

"Well, have fun on your Nazi road trip!" Lafter closed the doors, and Veda pulled the van forward.

Othala didn't say anything for a while. Purple, Orange, and Green surrounded her, watching. Not sure if she found that disconcerting.

"Where are we going?" She asked. We'd just entered the Trainyard heading north. "The PRT building is the other direction."

"I said I was taking you down to the PRT," I said. "I never said which one."

Othala's jaw slackened.

"Hope you like Boston," Dinah said. "I hear it's nice."

"You can try to escape if you want," I said. "I won't even stop you. You just have to make it past them."

I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. Orange, Green, and Purple flapped their ears.

"Try it, try it," Purple said.

Really wish I still had my suit. Being in a van for a few hours with Othala tied up in the back lacked a certain, flair. Plus the trip would be so much faster.

Veda did get her email from Dodge though, which meant I got to start looking for who bought a certain freezing solution from a certain tinker. Not that I found much. Checking all the traffic cameras around the Boat Graveyard at the time Dodge made the drop showed a lot of people. I saw Greta among them. She walked into the Graveyard around the time Dodge left.

Safe to say she picked the stuff up, which didn't help me much.

Ramius said she continued to plead ignorance on the whole thing, same as everyone else involved including the shooter. Consistent with victims of Teacher's control, but not much help to me.

Dean and I would need to take the more dangerous route without good old video footage of a suspect. I did not look forward to it.

The news continued reporting on Samuel Stansfield's death. Most people were blaming the Empire. The PRT never announced any suspicion of Teacher, and I didn't know if going out and saying it would make anything better. It would definitely inform any Pets, and maybe the man himself that I knew. They'd prepare for me, and I didn't want that.

Better to feign ignorance.

"Why are we going to Boston?" Othala asked.

"Because I win."

"What?"

If the Empire sends capes to free you, they'll be hours away and I'll get to play havoc in Brockton Bay. If they decide it's too far to try and free you, then you go to jail and any injuries the Empire endures will stick. Either way, I win.

I kept that to myself. Othala could enjoy being in the dark. Plus, I didn't leave her any reason to suspect an ulterior motive.

"Thirty minutes," Veda announced.

I checked in with Dad, because he worries, and set my phone aside. Lafter returned to the workshop, and Trevor went home. Dinah kept an eye on things from her house with Veda and the Haros helping.

The gang war hadn't exploded yet. Compared to earlier in the year, the PRT took a much more proactive stance the last few days. Whenever gang members gathered, troopers and a member of the Protectorate showed up. The Wards ended up patrolling some parts of the no man's land between the gang's territories, which shied them off a bit.

The fight continued, but it stayed low-key and none of the capes were involved yet.

From what I knew, the gangs didn't have enough guns. Score one for me I guess.

They'd have enough, soon though. Without O Gundam I couldn't keep shipments in check the same way. A little sabotage here and there just didn't have the same effect.

I needed to get Astraea off the ground, and soon. Unfortunately, no amount of clearing seemed to ever get my plate clean enough to focus on just one thing.

So, whatever.

Checklist it.

Capture Othala? Check.

Threaten Toybox? Check.

Hunt down Teacher's Conspiracy? To do.

Factory? In progress.

Stop gang war? To do.

Get head scanned to make sure I'm not dying? On it.

Boston looked a lot different from Brockton Bay.

It sounded harsh, but I think Boston had more character. Not just because the city still seemed to be alive and well either. The buildings looked distinct, and they formed a skyline that seemed cohesive as we approached. Nothing like Brockton's sort of Frankenstein amalgamation of sky scrapers, rusting warehouses, and brick buildings. No, Boston looked like someone bothered to try and make the city look nice, and not just the rich parts.

Though the rich parts still looked nicer than the not rich ones.

The Boston PRT building really blew me away. The difference between a branch department and a full division I guess. Portland, Maine boasted its own Protectorate team but half the members were better known as Guild members, so Boston ended up as the northern most city in the country to have a full-fledged PRT division and Protectorate team.

And they got a whole skyscraper for it.

Veda pulled off the road into their parking garage. A pair of troopers guarded the entrance, at least four different cameras pointed at it. A parking garage is a parking garage. Seen one and you've seen them all. However, where Brockton Bay's PRT installed a pair of tinker tech elevators in theirs to raise and lower PRT vehicles from their super tinker tech garage, the Boston PRT simply opened a door and waved Veda on through.

The garage beyond looked more traditional. Loading docks with vans and trucks, and dozens of troopers coming and going.

Suppose having the highest parahuman population per capita in the country didn't change that ultimately Brockton Bay wasn't that big a city. Three hundred thousand people and change.

Two of the troopers guided my van to the far wall. A few cars and trucks parked in spaces along its length. They looked like personal vehicles, and after we pulled up I saw the reserved signs. Director Armstrong's name hung under one, a beat up old Honda Civic sitting in the spot.

Guess he didn't care much for nice cars?

I stepped out of my van, and one of the troopers came around the back.

"Newtype?" He asked.

"That's me." I stepped past him and walked around. The other trooper stood on the driver's side, looking in the window at Veda's camera. "Might want to get a member of the Protectorate down here," I said.

"Why?" The troopers asked.

"I brought a friend."

I opened the back doors, and pulled Othala out of my van. The Haros hopped out to the floor and circled me. Othala did a little token struggling, but she wasn't getting free. Her power hardly helped her escape either. What could she do? Give some PRT's invincibility and super speed?

The troopers stared at her. She stared at them.

"Um, Director," one of them said. "Newtype is here. She brought someone with her... A villain I think?"

"Othala," I said. "Member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. I figured I might as well dump her here and make it that much harder for Kaiser to get her back."

"Okay," one trooper said. "You got that sir? Okay. Yeah. We'll wait." The man nodded to the other trooper, and the man stepped forward. I handed Othala off to him, and he looked over the zip ties binding her wrists behind her back. "No members of the Protectorate are on site," the trooper explained. "They're busy with the Teeth," - Still? - "but a few Wards are here. Weld is on his way down. What's her power?"

I knew the name. One of the more famous Wards, and a Case-53.

"Trump," I said. "Gives others temporary powers. Flight. Regeneration. Invincibility. Not much more dangerous than a normal person in this situation."

Othala glared at me as the Troopers took her. They replaced the zip ties with tinker tech cuffs and patted her down. They removed a knife from her boot I hadn't noticed. The Troopers read her rights, but she refused to answer the 'do you understand your rights as I have read them to you' question.

"Well, we did say she had the right to remain silent," the other Trooper said.

"And she's free to exercise it," the first added.

Green rolled to my feet and stood. Orange and Purple stayed near Othala, even with the two troopers holding her in place. I waited with them until the elevator doors opened.

A metal boy stepped out, and when I say metal, I mean metal. Silvery and reflective from head to toe, wearing the kind of clothes I imagine lots of teenagers wore in their off time. Hoodie and jeans, with hiking boots and a pair of headphones around his neck.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "You must be Newtype." He glanced to Othala. "And she's one of the Brockton Nazis?"

"Didn't have time to gift wrap her," I said.

Weld chuckled. He looked me up and down, which made me feel self-conscious for a moment until he said, "Your costume isn't metal, right?"

"N-No?"

"Good." He held his hand out to me. I took it and shook, and he explained, "My body absorbs metal. Makes things kind of 'hands off' when it comes to most tinkers."

"Oh." I looked at his hand, my brain trying to figure out exactly what his body might be made of.

"Yeah, that tends to happen to." He smiled and released my hand. "I can help the troopers escort her to a cell from here. If you head up to the eighth floor, the Director's waiting for you there."

I gave Othala one last glance and walked off.

"Stay with the van," I said looking down at Green. "I'll be back in a bit."

My robot tilted a little, and I felt Veda processing her confusion.

I understood why some people kept their terminal illness secret. I didn't want Veda to worry that I might die even sooner than we expected. I especially didn't want her to worry about it if it turned out to be nothing. Dad, Dinah, Lafter, and now Trevor.

Wow my life filled up awfully quickly...

I stepped away and left the Haros with the van. I left my phone in the van on purpose, and shut off the transmitter in my mask.

Time to find out if Armstrong warranted Ramius' praise, or if I needed to deal with two Piggots going forward.

I leaned toward the latter when I finally saw the man.

A plump looking black guy with a high forehead, a really sharp jaw. I'm not one to go around calling people ugly. Not sure if he was angry or just looked angry. The lines of his face made it really hard to tell.

I stepped off the elevator into an otherwise vacant hallway.

"Newtype, I take it?" He asked. "Kamil Armstrong." He held his hand out to me, and I shook it. "Murrue says a lot about you."

Oh, right. Ramius has a first name.

"Yeah... She's talked about you too?"

He smiled, and I'm not sure if that made him look angrier or not. Happy angry? Hangry.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

I raised my brow. "Fine?"

He nodded. Not sure if that answered his question or not. "Bringing Othala all the way here is a rather bold statement."

"I see it as a practical move. Kaiser will have a much harder time getting her here."

"Purity is present in the city, as well as Crusader, Night, and Fog."

"And I've noticed a conspicuous lack of anything the latter three have done in the last twelve months. Purity hasn't committed a crime in eighteen months, and her activities over the past month consist mostly of helping you fight the Teeth." I crossed my arms over my chest. "That, and I hacked the Empire's phones. Purity isn't talking to any of them, and she isn't taking Kaiser's calls."

He chuckled. "I see Piggot's remarks on your confidence aren't exaggerated."

"Piggot remarked on my confidence?"

"Well, she called it arrogance. Emily's not a bad person, but she takes things a bit too seriously. Always a life and death struggle with her. It's a good trait for Brockton Bay I think, but maybe not the best one to have when dealing with young idealists."

And that made... perfect sense to me? I glanced around the hall, seeing a pair of PRT troopers at the end of the hall standing guard.

"Well, this way," Armstrong said pointing one hand. "Don't mind the fly paper. We've had something of a bug problem of late."

I glanced up at the strips of brown paper hanging from the ceiling in a few places. While bigger than the Brockton PRT building, I got the sense the Boston HQ took up the building after someone else left it. It looked like an old office building, with large open rooms divided up into cubicles and walls that didn't match to make new rooms. Not that it looked bad, but it definitely lacked the uniformity and cleanness of Brockton.

Never thought I'd think that comparison.

The floor looked mostly deserted despite the signs people normally worked in it. A few troopers stood guard at some doors and hallways with foam sprayers, plus some flying drones. They looked kind of low tech, but they hovered in the air. Large orbs with guns mounted on the bottom and two arms on either side of the big eye in the middle.

"Coolant," Armstrong said. "One of the local tinkers. Not a member of the protectorate, but she supplies us with some of her inventions. A few are quite practical, like the drones there."

Piggot would never let me supply the PRT.

Not sure if that made Armstrong more reckless or intelligent.

I noticed the signs too. Lots of names with 'Dr.' in front of them, and various departments of 'x-ology.' They basically boasted their own hospital.

"This way," he said. "We do a lot of research here, so our equipment is more advanced than what Piggot has available in Brockton Bay. We'll figure it out."

"Yeah."

"I've had the floor cleared," Armstrong said as he led me along, "and we shut off the cameras. Murrue mentioned you're very protective of your identity.

"You know it?" I asked.

"I've been briefed since the Lieutenant took her station in Brockton Bay."

Well, at least they were taking my identity seriously.

"Right now there should only be..." Armstrong trailed off and pinched his chin. "Three people in Boston who know. Six on the East Cost." We went down a dead end hall toward a door. "Dr. Asuno is right down here. You'll probably need to take off your mask so we can get a good scan, but the doctor got briefed a few hours ago. No need to fret revealing any information people don't already know."

I nodded. Ramius went to the trouble of arranging for me to meet Armstrong and get my head looked at with better equipment. The rational part of my brain said 'stop worrying,' but the irrational part couldn't shake the feeling.

Wait. I glanced up at Armstrong as he pulled the door open. "Did you say Asuno?"

Oh god please no not again I can't-

And the person inside the room didn't look like that psycho from Brockton Bay. Well, he looked like her, except older. And male. With white hair and wrinkles.

"I know that look," he said. "Unoa has made her impressions?"

I nodded. "She's... memorable?"

"My daughter," the man said.

"This is Flit Asuno," Armstrong said. "He's one of the PRT's leading researchers on parahumans and powers, particularly the biological side of things."

I nodded and glanced around the room. It looked a lot more techy than the rest of the building I'd seen. A bank of computer monitors hung on the wall behind Dr. Asuno, and several computers lined the wall below. I didn't recognize all the equipment, but I did recognize the MRI machine. It looked more advanced than the one in Brockton General, tinker tech probably. Also, it didn't sit in its own room, or on the other side of a divider.

"You'll need to remove your mask," Flit said. "There's a changing room through that door where you can store your costume."

I didn't say anything. Felt kind of like a gallows walk in a way. I changed in the room into a medical gown, and then took a few moments just standing there staring.

Am I dying?

My skull only had so much room in it. There's stuff like brain pressure, right? If the tumors kept multiplying, if somehow my power just kept making Gemmas, then would my head pop or something? I'd never been one for headaches. I only got them when I felt really sick and even then the stuffy nose or the sore throat usually bothered me more.

I felt fine though.

How many people felt fine before hearing they were about to die?

I didn't want to die like that. Making a difference, for other people, to make the world better. I'd die for those things and it would suck, but I could make peace with that. Having a power that inadvertently killed me?

That's just not fucking fair... On a cosmic level. How unlucky can one teenager be? I'd finally managed to find a place where I felt happy. Constantly under threat, moving from one crisis to the next sure, but I felt at home in that in an odd way. Maybe just because it felt like my actions meant something. I meant something. For all the horrible things I'd seen since putting on a mask, at least I felt like I'd been able to fight back. Not like Winslow, not like when Emma kicked me around and nothing I did mattered.

I closed my eyes and breathed in.

No point standing in a room forever.

I stepped out, bracing myself for potential bad news.

Legend waved.

"Hey," he said.

I blinked.

Legend.

I looked him up and down. He looked like Legend, a hunky looking guy in a blue costume with white flames and lightning designs. Wavy brown hair, chiseled features with a simple blue and silver mask covering his eyes.

That's Legend.

Sooner or later I'd stop being shocked by celebrities.

Just, not right then.

"Hi?" I said back.

He smiled at me, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry. I heard you were here and I just got back from looking around the city."

Right, Legend was still on loan in Boston dealing with the Teeth. For the past month...

"That bad?" I asked.

Legend's smile faltered. "Yeah," he said. "It's not very good out there right now."

I'd stopped tracking news from the city, but having Legend still be in the city, and all members of the Protectorate out of the building this late at night? How bad is it?

"The machine's ready," Flit said. "Just lay down."

Right. Why I'm here.

I nodded to Legend and stepped back.

"I don't mean to intrude," he said. "I've never heard of anyone apologizing to you."

I laid down on the machine, which started sliding the bed under me into the giant donut. The machine didn't make nearly as much noise as the last one either. I heard him clearly.

"Apologizing?" I asked. "For what?"

"You can talk," Flit said. "Just keep your head still. The better the scans, the better my analysis can be."

"For Sophia Hess," Legend said. "We made her a Ward, and she was supposed to be on watch. The system failed, and you suffered because of it."

Oh, that. I kept my head still, trying not to think about everything Sophia did to me. "She started bullying me before she got forced into the Wards."

"That just makes the failure worse," Legend said. "We should have seen it, and done something about it. Rebecca, the Chief Director, hoped if we looked we'd find Teacher's hand in all of it, but it looks like Sophia's handler just didn't want to deal with the problem."

Not just her. Blackwell could have done the right thing. My dad could have paid more attention to me. Any one of the kids at Winslow could have stood up and said 'this is wrong.'

"I'm nominally the leader of the Protectorate," Legend continued. "Even if the PRT didn't see the problem, the Protectorate should have. I've spoken with Armsmaster, as well as Miss Militia, Prism, and Stratos. They all knew Sophia's behavior constantly strained acceptability. They're the heroes. If no one else stopped it, they should have."

It's not just the system that failed.

"So, I'm sorry on our behalf, for whatever that's worth."

I didn't really want to talk to him, but at the same time I didn't want to sit in silence and think about what the doctor might say in a few minutes.

The talking did help. Distracted me from the lump in my throat. The biting whispers in the back of my mind as I imagined the worst. Someone's voice, someone I barely knew, giving me years, months, or even days. What would I tell dad? Or Veda? Dinah and Lafter?

I'm fifteen fucking years old…

So I kept talking, because I desperately didn't want a panic attack.

"Where is she now?" I asked. "Am I allowed to know that?"

"Technically no," Armstrong said. "But the circumstances..."

"Madison," Legend said. "We put her on a quarantine team."

Like Ramius suggested, then. I'd looked up Madison. The Simurgh attacked the city a few years ago, and ever since Case-53s seemed to grow like wheat. At first dozens, then hundreds, and now people said there might be thousands of them inside the city. Four Protectorate teams guarded the perimeter now, along with an entire Marine division.

Not sure how I felt about that. The Simurgh fucked with people's heads, but it's not really their fault they triggered in the middle of a Simurgh attack and went a little crazy. They were victims, but I saw other reports. A cape made it out of quarantine every now and then. It never went well. Either the news lied to justify a literal army standing watch over the city, or the threat really warranted that level of attention.

Neither situation encouraged good feelings.

"I don't imagine she's enjoying her time there," Legend said.

Kind of weird how a frank, and maybe even inappropriate conversation, can distract you from the fear of dropping dead any moment.

"Good," I mumbled.

"Done," Flit said a moment later. The bed began moving again, drawing me out of the donut. I immediately went and got changed back into my costume. It sort of dawned on me that the only other people in the room were older men, and the only thing on my body was a damn hospital gown.

When I emerged, all three of them hunched over the computer screens.

"-mit," Legend said. "I've been a cape for more than twenty years, and I've never really looked at any of this stuff."

"Well you won't see another parahuman like this, I promise you that." Flit pinched his chin, staring at the screen in front of him. "I see nine. They're not distinct though."

"Nine?" I asked.

The three men turned to me. Armstrong stepped aside, and I quickly took his place.

Weird seeing your own brain, especially in the kind of detail on the screen. At Brockton General I only saw some white, gray, and black pictures with Unoa pointing at some parts. Here? I saw everything. Like they'd literally removed my brain from my skull and taken a full 3D picture.

I saw the Gemmas much more clearly, and I did count nine of them.

"What do you mean they're not distinct?" I asked.

"This." Flit took out a pen and pointed the butt at the screen. "See their tendrils?" I nodded, looking at the sickly gray vines. They were thin, and I didn't see them until he pointed them out. "I've seen these structures before. They connect the Pollentia to the Gemma. You have one of the former, and it seems to be connected to all of the latter."

"Unoa suggested it might mean I have more than one power," I said. Legend and Armstrong turned their heads.

"Do you?" Flit asked.

"I..." I glanced at Armstrong and then at Legend, but honestly if they both knew my name then they probably knew the other part as well. "My power is making me smarter."

"That is typical of Tinkers in a way," Flit said.

I shook my head. "No. My power is making me smarter."

I ripped a piece of paper off the pad on Flit's desk and took his pen. I jotted down a quick formula and turned it toward him.

"I'm actually not great at math," he said.

"It's the solution to the first part of Hilbert's Sixteenth Problem."

All three men stared at me.

"Name one fifteen year old girl who even knows what that is, let alone can claim to have solved it."

That got the ball rolling.

"I wasn't a bad student before," I said. "But I wasn't this smart. I was terrible at math. Now, I'm maybe a few days away from being able to mass produce my Haros using completely mundane means."

Legend and Armstrong both raised their brows at that. Too much?

Flit hummed. "So, you're thinking is that you have multiple tinker powers?"

I nodded. "I read a few papers about it. Manton theorized Tinkers know how to build tinker tech only as they're building it, and that the information necessary to make it work is somehow lost after they've finished. Like their power makes them forget."

"And if you have more than one tinker power, one could fill in for the others, resulting in you retaining information you're intended to forget?"

I nodded.

"Wrong," Flit said.

I frowned. "Wrong?"

Flit crossed his arms, saying, "Manton was a brilliant man, but his research is largely out of date. For example, while he was active in the field we hadn't yet discovered that tinkers modify the materials they work with. Hero's team only stumbled on that a few years ago running material tests."

Modified the materials? That made sense to me, actually. The Haros could assemble the parts I built, but they largely couldn't build them. Everything needed me to assemble its most sensitive components. The parts simply didn't work unless I worked on them.

My power did something as I worked? The reason for tinker fugues?

"That said," Flit continued. "You might not be entirely wrong. Tinkers are typically smarter after a trigger than before. We've had the chance to run comparative IQ tests on people who took one before triggering, and their performance is always radically improved, far more so than can be explained by variations in age or quality of the test. But you're suggesting something even more radical."

He reached out and took the notepad from me.

"And this problem was solved, two years ago, and published in International Mathematic last year."

My anger flared at that. Why did it feel so fucking familiar to have an adult talk down to me and accuse me of lying?

He turned his head to Armstrong. "We can test this. Have some experts come together. Use some research that hasn't been fully published yet. If nothing else, we could learn a great deal about tinker powers and how they work. I've never seen a formation of Gemma's quite like this, not even among the Case-53s. We don't know enough about powers for me to completely rule out her hypothesis."

I snarled. "You accuse me of lying and now you want to use me as a lab rat?"

"I'm not accusing you of lying," Flit said firmly. "But I'm a scientist. I can't just take your word for it. It's why we test things and then retest them. A single incident is not indicative of anything more than the chaos of the universe. Or lying."

So, I'm a liar then?

"What's he's saying," Armstrong said, "is that you might be right. We simply can't know at this juncture. If you wanted to explore the possibility there are ways we can test it."

"I think that's a bit beside the point for now," Legend said. He turned his head to me. "I'm to understand you agreed to this procedure for another reason?"

Oh, right.

"Hmm?" Flit asked. "This was sprung on me rather suddenly. What am I missing?"

"I-" My voice stumbled. "Am I dying?"

The man raised his brow. "Of course not."

Huh?

"You're sure?" I asked.

The man took his pen and pointed at the screen again. "If any of these formations were new, I might be worried about a number of complications. But unless you have any symptoms that concern you," - I shook my head - "I see no cause for any immediate alarm."

"Are they multiple Gemmas, or one Gemma that is oddly formed?" Armstrong asked.

"Hard to say," Flit said. "No two Gemmas are ever alike, and I can't rule out the possibility that this one is simply highly abnormal."

"Will there be more?" I asked.

"I don't see why. The connections to the Pollentia all seem to be about the same age. I'd say the structures all appeared when you triggered. None of them are newer than the others. No need to worry about your brain being crushed in your skull."

I allowed myself to exhale.

"I have all the data I can gather short of physically removing the brain for dissection," Flit said. "I can run it through some of our programs. Produce a more definitive analysis that might tell us if the Gemmas are distinct or singular. That's not something I can produce with the snap of a finger."

Well, not dying then. Though I don't think I liked Unoa's dad any more than I liked her. At least she did things that helped, even if she managed to terrorize everyone while she did them. Her dad on the other hand seemed like kind of a dick.

"We could give you a full physical if you're worried," he said. "Speaking from just what I've seen you appear perfectly healthy. Unless there's any family illness you're worried about I don't see the point in losing any sleep."

I didn't know if any illnesses ran in the family. Maybe high blood pressure? That might just be related to stress though. Dad's side of the family tended to die young, and I didn't know anything about Mom's. Not really a topic I can bring up without dad immediately wondering why.

"I know his bedside manner isn't particularly appealing," Armstrong said, "but Flit is a leading parahuman researcher. I wouldn't have brought him in for this if he wasn't the best at what he does."

"It's fine," I said.

I didn't want to talk about it. Not dying, that's the part that matters. So, I focused on that.

"I would be interested in working on your theory, however." Armstrong folded his arms together. "A tinker who can decipher tinker tech in itself could greatly benefit the world. If we can find a rhyme to it, we may be able to get other tinkers to the same point. I'm sure Murrue has mentioned my interest in the mechanisms of parahuman powers."

"She has," I said.

Honestly, I probably didn't oppose the idea at this stage. I lacked the ability to really test myself on that front. No one around me really had the ability either. The Foundation, Dragon, and the PRT all seemed better suited to deciphering exactly what my power let me do and how I did it. It might get them off their asses on a front as well.

"No need to push her now, Kamil," Legend said. He followed behind us, hands on his hips. "Come on. She was afraid of being killed by her own power. It's not a pleasant feeling."

I raised my brow and glanced back at him.

"I've been there once or twice," he said. "Most parahumans probably have, actually. Especially changers and blasters."

I stopped as he spoke, my feet turning and carrying me toward one of the large windows on the side of the building.

"Newtype?" Armstrong called.

I looked out at the city beyond.

Approaching from the south west, I didn't see it at all.

"That bad?" I asked.

Legend stepped up to me, and I saw the frown in his reflection.

"That bad." He answered.

The city to the north lay dark, save for the burning of fires in a few places and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. I saw a light shooting through the sky. Purity, or someone, and explosions over by the water to the east. The flashes of gun fire occasionally broke through the darkness.

A major American city a warzone? In any other age such a thing might be on every news station twenty-four seven. In ours, that's just another Tuesday. A bad Tuesday, but still a Tuesday.

"It was improving," Armstrong said. "The Ambassadors and a few independent villains started fighting the Teeth after you made your threat to out anyone who broke the rules. Things were calming down, up until Uber died with Animos and Vex."

My blood ran cold.

"Uber's dead?" I asked.

Armstrong turned. "You didn't know? I told Murrue."

I remembered leaving Kid Win's lab. it seemed like she wanted to tell me something at the time, but I'd been so focused on stopping an international assassin I didn't put much thought in it. She knew he died, and she tried to tell me but couldn't?

"How?" I asked.

"They both got outed in the leak," Legend said. "The Teeth have been relentless. We've moved most of the independents, even some of the villains, out of the city for their own safety. We were about to approach Uber and Leet, but Vex killed Uber and Leet killed Vex and Animos in retaliation."

The idea of Leet purposefully killing anyone shocked me. For all the damage he and Uber did making their videos, they'd never gone out and straight killed anyone. Maybe that one incident with the hooker in their GTA video, but I'd read she was a paid actor and didn't really get hurt.

"Where is Leet?"

"We don't know," Armstrong said. "I tried to get my men to collect him, but he gave us the slip."

"He's been going Rambo on the Teeth ever since," Legend said. "He killed Spree not long after Uber died. The Teeth went into overdrive afterward. They recruited a few out of towners, and now the villains are fighting each other as much as they're fighting the Teeth. Some kind of crossfire incident between the Ambassadors and a few villains."

"Damsel of Distress coming back to town isn't helping," Armstrong said.

Is this my fault?

"Don't do that."

I flinched and raised my head.

Legend looked down at me sympathetically.

"It's nobody's fault," he said. "These things... They happen. Things spiral." He raised his head back toward the part of the city reduced to a warzone. "Especially with capes."

That didn't make me feel any better.

Legend parted ways with us at the elevator. At the bottom I got my phone and equipment back, and the Haros climbed back into the van.

"If you want to explore more about your power, I'd be happy to help," Armstrong said. "The researchers love new puzzles."

I didn't like being referred to as a puzzle. Though, the possibility of learning more about powers did pique my interest.

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Legend isn't wrong you know. Ever since you got your powers, you've clearly only tried to help. A lot of us in the PRT have worried you're a bit too reckless with your own life, though I'm sure you've gathered that from Piggot."

"She's mentioned it." Among other people.

"But, in my experience you hero types, the ones who aren't treating it like a job, have a tendency of blaming yourselves." Armstrong shrugged. "I won't tell you not to. Maybe that sense of responsibility for things you can't control is what makes you do what you do."

I raised my brow. If he had a point, he didn't say it.

The drive back to Brockton Bay felt even less pleasant than the drive to Boston. And I didn't have a villain in the van anymore.

"Is everything alright, Taylor?" Veda asked.

"No," I said. I quickly deflected by saying, "I didn't know things in Boston were so bad."

Green climbed up into my lap and sat down. Not sure if he just wanted to look out the window or if he wanted to make me feel better.

"Searching. They do not seem good."

How many dead? Other than Uber, that is. Leet going after the Teeth for revenge? I robbed them blind and decided they could deal with the aftermath. I didn't think they'd die. If I'd left them something, or maybe just not deleted all of Leet's data, would he still be alive?

"Uber's dead," I said.

"The one who unleashed the robots on the mall?" Veda asked.

"Yeah."

"That is... unfortunate."

I closed my eyes.

"Yeah..."

For once, I felt worse for a place than Brockton Bay. Weird feeling, and worst because what could I do about it? I meant what I said to Pyrotechnical. I couldn't police the whole world. Not yet. If I went to Boston and tried to help the gangs in Brockton got a chance to regroup.

Do something and I undo all my work. Do nothing and… It's doing nothing.

Fucking choices.

"What's the progress on Astraea?" I asked.

"Eighty-eight percent," Veda said.

I opened my eyes.

"Really," Veda said.

Chaos of the universe indeed.