Step 6.5

My head snapped around at the sound of gunfire.

The people on the street ahead kept walking, talking, and carrying on. That's Brockton Bay. A gunshot here or there doesn't really alarm anyone, especially not right now. I suppose after two whole days of on and off fighting, the current situation probably seemed more normal. The gangs mostly kept their fighting to an "after dark" activity and daytime Brockton went back to business as usual.

"I will check," Veda said. She started moving Purple and Red east. "We should continue."

Gang war or no, I still needed to handle all the pots on my stove.

So, I let Veda deal with it.

I turned my attention across the street, staring at a familiar van and feeling a very familiar sense of disgust.

"He put a spoiler on it," I said.

"Yeah, it looks kind of stupid," Lafter said. "Also flames on a van. Ew." She crossed her arms at my side, adding, "And when I said we should go shopping, I meant we should find you clothes."

"I have clothes."

"It's sweet you think that."

I admit, I felt like Lafter and I could use some bonding. 'Tutoring' Dinah gave the two of us plenty of time to interact out of costume and away from my workshop. Lafter's face being known complicated any attempts to 'hang out' with her though. I'd considered setting her up with New Wave, because she seemed to get along with Vicky. They all publically outed themselves years ago, and it wouldn't raise any eyebrows for Lafter to be seen with them.

At least that way she'd be able to go out and live life.

For now, her options offered more constraints.

That's a pot for another time though.

"Just be ready," I said. "These two are really stupid."

Maybe I shouldn't keep calling them stupid.

They did have the sense to pick a pretty good location for a cape focused store, and set up in time for peak tourist season. The PRT HQ wasn't far off, and anyone walking or riding a bus through the city passed right through the streets leading to the Boardwalk. Unfortunate that a gang war started and the whole season might be a wash, but all the same.

We crossed the street, stepping around the hideous van and pushing open the door. I held it open for Lafter before letting it close and taking a look around.

The store lived up to its name. "Cape-a-Palooza." It's an awful name, but an accurate one. Posters, cardboard cutouts, banners, and displays showed capes from the Protectorate, Guild, Wards, and a few corporate teams. Comic books lined one entire wall, with action figures and officially licensed merchandise on another.

Pretty big space actually, with some room for new products in a few areas.

I did spot a section of Dragels – still a terrible name – and took a moment to look them over. The models ranged from the size of my hand to the size of my head. Dragon suits and ships, and a few other things. One I picked up and turned around. I didn't actually have any to base my own models on, just some videos online. It looked like I got the size right.

I set the box down and looked at some of the assembled models at the top of the display. They looked well painted.

Turning toward the register at last, I said, "Hello groupies."

Larry and JP both glared at me.

"How'd the grand opening go?" I asked.

"Well, there's a gang war," JP said.

"So, not amazing," Larry added.

That sounded disappointing. I got that.

"Last time I saw the two of you, you were cleaning up for Hookwolf," I said. "And now you're running a cape store. What's the story on that?"

"Oh, they kicked us out after they found out we knew you," Larry said.

"And they didn't kill you?" Lafter asked.

"We're very fast," JP answered.

"For the best," Larry added. "Those guys were super racist."

I raised my brow. "And now you have a cape store?" I asked, trying to head back toward the answer to my real question.

"My mom owns the space," Larry said. "We bought it off her."

"Glad to see you taking my advice about staying away from capes," I said. Actually really ironic in the current situation. "And I have a business proposition for you."

They both gave us a blank stare.

Lafter set the dolly down and opened the box on the top. "We brought action figures."

That got their attention.

"Models, Lafter." I looked at her as Larry and JP strolled forward and looked inside the box. "They're models."

"Same difference."

I shook my head.

Larry and JP turned the bottom of the box up and shook it until the contents slid out.

Five E-Carbon boxes came out in a nice stack, O Gundam's image cut into the surface. The boxes weren't real E-Carbon I guess. I didn't want anyone to know the exact makeup of my armor, but you can make just about anything with carbon. For my models I went with a softer and more pliable structure, one that couldn't stop a bullet but played nicer with hobby tools.

Point is, I didn't have the ability to just make boxes that looked nice on a shelf, so I cut the words "Collector's First Edition" into the box.

Larry and JP picked the top box up and looked at it. They found the seam on their own, and the container split open to reveal five sprues of the same material and a printed out instruction booklet.

I included everything. The suit, beam sabers, carbine, shield with GN missile tubes, and bazooka. And of course, the instructions contained a 'loose' description of the suit's abilities and specs. Not relevant now that I didn't have it anymore, and just misleading enough that any thinkers or tinkers who snooped could walk away with a few wrong ideas.

"I folded the booklets myself," Lafter said.

If Larry and JP heard her, they didn't say anything. They passed the sprues out between themselves, fingers testing the material. JP seemed kind of impassive, but Larry looked almost hungry. Kind of creepy, honestly. They looked through the booklet together, going over the images Veda and I put together for assembling the pieces in the sprue into a half foot tall scale replica of O Gundam.

"You want to sell these?" Larry said.

"The question is do you want to sell them," I answered. "I've got fifteen right now, and another sixty in storage."

They put the sprues back into the box and closed it before Larry asked, "How much?"

"Forty," I said. "About the same price as a basic Dragel. I can make one with a ten dollar bag of charcoal. I'll sell them to you at twenty each. That's two thirds of the profit to you."

"Fifteen hundred for all sixty?" JP asked. "It's a lot."

"You think you won't sell them?" I asked. "The novelty alone will drag people in."

"Twelve hundred," Larry said. "And we'll buy all of them." JP turned to him with a frown.

"Thirteen hundred," I said.

"Deal."

Larry held his hand out.

I cautiously shook it.

"Really, dude?" JP asked.

Larry shook his head. "Dude, we put on our Facebook page we have models from Newtype, and Newtype actually came here to deliver them to us, and we'll be packed full in two hours. Even after we sell out we'll still be able to sell other stuff."

I glanced around the store, seeing the section with official Protectorate and Guild products, and the other sections with corporate licenses, and a small corner that seemed to be New Wave related. I intended to keep myself out of action figure form, because that's just weird, but models? I could sell models.

"It's the suit she doesn't even have anymore," JP said. "She blew it up."

"Call it a memorial edition," I said. Should have put that on the box. "I can make more," I reiterated. "I'll give you two exclusive rights to sell any merchandise based on me for six months."

That got JP's attention.

Way I figured it, no one would make a deal with me to produce my models without proof they'd sell. I didn't want to charge money for the Haros. Something like that, something to make people's lives better, shouldn't be sold for a profit. I imagined many people having an opinion about that but I didn't care. It's not what I wanted to do.

I'd sell the Haros at cost, and I'd use the models for profit. Dinah said it would work, and after doing some research, I agreed. People already sold knock-off Newtype stuff online and in a few stores around the city. They seemed to be selling okay considering my status as a recent regional hero.

I just needed to prove my models would turn profit, and then I could take the idea to a larger company for a deal. I'd be able to fully fund my tinkering through legitimate business, and could keep the Haros nice and cheap, available to as many people as possible.

Enter the groupies.

"Think about it," I said. "Six months of you two being the only source. These are what I have right now. Give me a week, and I can have some kits for Astraea."

"Astraea?" Larry asked. His eyes widened. "Is that your new suit's name?"

"Yep," Lafter said. "And there's going to be more."

"Deal!" Larry said. JP still shook his head. "Get over it dude, this is going to be great!"

I breathed a small breath of relief. I didn't expect a major store to stock anything I walked in with, and I didn't want to make deals with the Protectorate. Really, the groupies were the only people to turn to. Their proximity to the better parts of the city made it really unlikely any villains would smash up their store to get at me.

I told Veda to have the Haros fly the other boxes to the store, and I helped Larry and JP clear a space by the register for us to stack the cases. People saw us enter, and rumor spread online fast that we'd gone to the store with a dolly of packages. I figure that would draw someone's interest and then JP and Larry would handle the sales.

"We'd pay you to stick around and sign autographs," Larry said. "We tried getting the Wards booked, but the PRT turned us down."

JP said, "All we did was a little aiding and abetting."

I'd be worried about that if I didn't know them. Larry and JP weren't crooks. They just didn't have much of a sense for self-preservation. Probably made it easier to sell my models to them.

"Sorry," I said. "I have plans for the evening. Another time maybe."

They seemed oddly not upset about that. Larry took one of the containers and opened it, saying he wanted to assemble it as a store model. Before he did that he went to the back and brought out a lockbox.

"You can keep half the money," I said when Larry offered to pay me in cash. "I'll collect it after you sell all the models."

JP seemed fine with that. I already knew they'd sell out before the end of the day thanks to Dinah.

Lafter and I let them keep the dolly and after giving Larry a contact number – I explicitly said it was a business line, not a fan line – we went on our way.

I checked the models off my mental to do list. One of the easier things to handle, but still nice to have progress on it. I'd let JP and Larry sell the seventy-five models I'd worked up and be ready with another hundred, plus some Astraea kits at the end of the week. A few thousand dollars my way and I'd be able to provide proof of concept to Yashima when I approached them about mass production and marketing.

So, next check on the list.

I check the time, and sigh. "I'm going to be late."

"You can try running," Lafter said.

I could, but that might draw more attention than desired. Showing up late could fit the image I wanted.

"You're okay with this plan?" I asked.

"I'll be fine captain worrywart," Lafter said. "You don't need to babysit us."

I nod, and we both climb into the van at the corner. There's even less space to change out of my costume than normal with Lafter inside, but I eventually get into a sundress and sneakers. Kind of a frumpy look on the whole, but frumpy worked.

The van pulled into an alley and started driving through. After the Haros confirmed no one watching, I opened the passenger side door and stepped out. Kind of ended up half running because it's not as easy to step out of a slow moving vehicle as I'd thought.

"Good luck," Lafter said. She pulled the door shut, and the van kept going.

They'll be fine. Probably.

I worked my way back onto the street in plain clothes and got onto the bus at the nearest stop. I spent the ride checking on some projects at the workshop. With Astraea complete, and the models out I had a few days to work on a few odds and ends. Another bright side to keeping Astraea inside the van and out of the workshop was the space it freed up. The Full Armor system took up more than I'd expected, even at only a third of its completion.

I tried not to think about an Endbringer fight. I knew the time drew near. The Simurgh attacked Kurdistan at the end of February, so everyone expected Leviathan to do something by the end of June.

I felt apprehensive about that.

Capes died in Endbringer fights.

They died in droves, especially new capes. The typical battle with Behemoth seemed to be the worst. The Protectorate hid the statistics, and if you ever sic an AI on the problem you find out why.

Behemoth killed about half the capes that showed up to fight him nearly every battle. Leviathan only killed about a quarter, and the Simurgh even less. The Simurgh posed other problems though. Of those who died, most were people who'd never fought an Endbringer before.

Reminded me of the stats on new capes.

Many died within their first six months. Those that didn't tended to live much longer, and I felt pretty confident I'd be one of them. Capes who fought an Endbringer for the first time tended to die at a much worse rate. Two thirds or three quarters depending on the Endbringer. Those who lived past their first fared much better, and those who lived through three Endbringer battles did even better. Statistically that is.

So sue me, the numbers offered some comfort from the nerves.

Full armor would be ready whenever Leviathan showed up though. We'd already built the frame. I merely needed to get all the components in place and make some modifications to O Gundam's leftover shields.

sys.t/ stay focused on the second furnace
sys.t/ and start drawing up the fabrication specs
sys.t/ with the data from the first drive, O, and Astraea we might finish in time

sys.v/ working
sys.v/ application of TD blanket forty-nine percent
sys.v/ estimate completion in eleven days

We might make it, maybe. Eleven days didn't leave a lot of time. Best not to get my hopes up, probably, and keep working to see if I got surprised. Dealing with a gang war took priority.

sys.t/ what happened with that shooting?

sys.v/ single injury, ABB
sys.v/ Mark 'Tens' Jeong
sys.v/ he is wanted for several assaults and three murders
sys.v/ police are on site

No one dead then. Lucky.

sys.t/ who shot him?
sys.t/ merchants?

sys.v/ he chooses to remain silent

Probably Merchants. Not really my problem I suppose. He didn't sound like a nice person and no one died.

sys.t/ I'll look at the progress on the furnace later
sys.t/ are you ready for today?

sys.v/ I am completing the last diagnostic
sys.v/ voice synthesizer is prepared

sys.t/ good luck

I put my phone away and got off the bus a block down from the Blue Cosmos building.

It's time.

Dad and the Bermans were inside when I arrived. He looked a little worried, and I threw out some excuse I'd explain later. Charlotte hugged me, and her parents looked a lot more apprehensive than she did.

"You ready?" She asked me.

"I guess," I said.

We walked up to the secretary and introduced ourselves. Different person from our last visit, and after doing some typing on her computer she directed us to an elevator. We met in the same room as before. Blue everywhere, not particularly comfortable chairs, and a big window looking at the city outside.

Lots more lawyers though.

About a dozen of them.

"Is this necessary?" Dad asked.

Copeland sat in the middle of them on one side of the table. "As Mr. Stansfield said, one does not merely sue the PRT."

Dean sat on one end of the table, looking a little out of it. Local news televised Samuel Stansfield's funeral. I considered going, but I didn't want Taylor Hebert to be there, and Newtype might simply be an unwanted presence.

Kaiser insisted he, and the Empire, had no involvement in the shooting. Blue Cosmos obviously didn't believe him entirely, but at the same time everyone seemed to find it weird that the local Neo-Nazis would go out of their way to do it. A lot of people seemed to assume the shooting a one-off act by a rogue member of a parahuman gang.

Didn't stop Dean's father from making a big speech to capitalize on the situation. Michael Stansfield reminded me a lot of Azrael. He talked like a snake, but he looked like a frumpy pale Oompa Loompa. Not remotely the most photogenic of men and I didn't really see the family resemblance between the man and Dean.

"Sorry about your grandfather," I said.

Dean raised his head to look at me.

Taking Vicky's 'advice,' I put more effort into carrying myself differently as Taylor than as Newtype. Taylor hunched a little, and she kept her voice impassive, almost disinterested. The complete opposite of Newtype's haughty – I can be self-aware – confidence and straightforwardness.

After Vicky and Trevor, I really just didn't want anyone else figuring out two and two. Dean and Newtype might end up doing a lot of talking. I did not need a repeat.

"I heard about it on the news," I added and looked away from him.

"Quite the tragedy," one of the lawyers said. A woman in her mid-twenties I figured. She looked at Dean sympathetically and then back to the Bermans, Dad, and me. "But that's a lawsuit for another day."

"Talia Gladys," Copeland said. "She's one of the organizations most experienced lawyers when it comes to the PRT."

The other lawyers nodded, a few of them looking toward the woman with a certain respect. Some kind of big deal?

"Now, I think it best we get started."

Copeland and his team passed some files around to each other. Two got pushed to our side of the table, and Dad and Mr. Berman started looking through them. They sat side by side, Charlotte's mom next to her husband and Charlotte next to me.

"Before we continue," Talia said. "I'd like to confirm a few things."

The tension in the room went up instantly. The other lawyers all looked confused, but Copeland looked nervous.

I glanced to Dean, who continued to sit impassively watching Talia.

"Ms. Hebert, Ms. Berman, may I ask a few quick questions?" She asked.

"I guess?" Charlotte turned to me and I shrugged.

Apparently taking that as consent, Talia said, "Thank you. I just want to be sure you understand what you're getting into here. The PRT is a federal agency, and unlike others it throws proper funding at its legal department. They have talented attorneys working for them and excellent public relations staff on top of a lot of experience dealing with labyrinthine and confusing laws surrounding capes and their identities."

"As it seems obvious that your families are ready to move forward, I don't think there's much point in continuing to beat around the bush. Taylor Hebert, and Charlotte Berman. Is it your intention to openly accuse Sophia Hess of submitting you both to physical and emotional abuse?"

I blinked.

"Yes."

Charlotte and I spoke at once.

"You are aware that Sophia Hess is the civilian identity of the Ward Shadow Stalker?"

"Yes."

"Are you familiar with Shadow Stalker's history of violence before joining the Ward program?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to accuse her of using her powers to further her abuse against you?"

"Yes."

"May I ask how you know that Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker, and that she used her powers to bring you to harm?"

I balled my hand slightly. Did I have an explanation for that?

"Taylor told me," Charlotte said, sticking to the truth. "After Taylor stopped going to school, Sophia and the other girls bullying her started bullying me." She glanced at me. "I'm not sure how Taylor knew."

"I figured it out," I said. Not a lie. "I went down to the PRT HQ because I was kind of a cape geek and the Wards interested me. They take guided tours through the building sometimes. I saw Shadow Stalker in civilian clothes, with a mask on, but I recognized her voice and body language. The way she looked at me."

"They could simply have similar builds," Talia said. "How were you so sure?"

Her tone wasn't accusatory, but I couldn't help but feel like she wanted me to say something.

"I know it was her," I said. "It made too much sense. I used to have this flute, my mothers, and it vanished one day from my locker. I can't think of how anyone managed to get it except by going through the locker. And then there's all the homework and projects that went missing, and how Blackwell always accused me of lying for no reason and sided with the bullies every time. It made – makes - too much sense. I know it was her and one day I ran into Mrs. Knott and she confirmed it. The entire staff sort of knew and Blackwell said she'd fire anyone who didn't toe the line."

I allowed my voice to slowly rise as I spoke, and then reeled myself back in as I finished. I let myself look a little flustered and embarrassed, turning my head away and not looking at anyone.

"I'm sorry," Talia said. "I didn't mean to upset you. But you understand, both of you that if you go forward with this it will mean being asked about what happened to you in excruciating detail? You haven't done anything wrong, but you will be on trial as much as anyone. The other side will try to trip you up, and when you do – and I'm sorry but you will because no amount of prep can really prepare you for this – they will call you liars. They'll accuse you of being poor. Of wanting money. Of being jealous. Petty. They'll say whatever they think will stick."

Her eyes softened, and I realized she wasn't on Copeland's 'side.' Copeland wanted to sue. He wanted the prestige and the glory points that came with rubbing this in the PRT's face. Gladys on the other hand cared about Charlotte and me. She wanted us to be okay.

She's on Dean's side.

Dean held his hands in front of his face, but behind them I saw him… not smiling, but content.

"Don't think this is going to be easy," Talia said. "I want you to understand that before this goes any further. Your parents might be your guardians but this should be your choice."

Unfortunately, she didn't know this wouldn't get much further.

"I understand," I said.

"Me too," Charlotte said.

Copeland looked absolutely ecstatic.

He clapped his hands and nodded. "Excellent."

I felt my stomach turning already.

"The whole team is in agreement," Copeland said. "Your case is very strong. While we cannot guarantee anything, we feel that this case is likely to result in a substantial windfall for you and may be used to force the PRT to adopt different policies in how it handles the Wards."

"Different policies?" Charlotte's dad asked. "Different how?" He didn't even try to hide the suspicion in his voice.

I found it best to keep quiet so as to maintain my ruse.

One of the other lawyers – a woman, I didn't remember how Copeland introduced her - spoke up, saying, "There's an argument to be made that keeping the Wards in the general population of a student body is fundamentally unequal. The other children will never receive the same level of special treatment, and the money sent to a school to help ensure the Ward's education and environment are secure is almost always misused and facilitates a certain favoritism from administrative staff."

The woman looked to Charlotte and me.

"That's exactly the case that happened to the two of you at Winslow. The PRT is, as it currently stands, facilitating an unequal system prone to abuse and negligence. This isn't the first time a Ward has been caught red handed abusing their peers. The two of you haven't done anything wrong, and arguably even the Ward in question is legally less culpable than her supervisors. The PRT should have been aware of this behavior and put a stop to it, and if disciplinary action became necessary it should have been executed. Those things didn't happen."

I wanted to raise my brow but refrained.

I didn't disagree with that. Honestly it seemed like a fair and obvious assessment of the entire Sophia Hess saga. Yet, I couldn't help but see the obvious implications of the framing of said problem.

Figures that Blue Cosmos would want to go full on cape segregation. Keep the Wards out of public school and they'd even get to have cake and eat it to. Just start accusing the PRT of giving the Wards better education and training than any normal kid got, and use it to rally people against them.

"And?" Dad asked. "We're not really here for political reasons."

"We know," Talia said. "You don't have to be, but unfortunately this case will have political consequences." She glanced to Charlotte and me. "You should be prepared for that too. Shadow Stalker was a popular heroine in the city. There are people who liked the brand of justice she represented, however wrong it may be. They won't like the two of you."

"Can't we keep the case quiet?" Mrs. Berman asked. "Charlotte and Taylor didn't do anything wrong. Why should anyone know their names?"

"The PRT will probably try and issue gag orders," Copeland said. "However we think there are students and teachers who may emerge to support your case if we can get a degree of public attention. That will make the case stronger going forward."

Dean, Talia, and maybe two others in the room clearly didn't like that, but they didn't protest it either. Orders from above them? Dean's father now led Blue Cosmos in Brockton, and just from his speech I could see he didn't have the same views as his predecessor. The man literally called capes inhuman, and a threat to civilization. He'd probably be completely on board with publically humiliating the PRT, and the 'other witnesses' line just served as a legal or ethical excuse to make it work.

Sucked to be him. This case wouldn't make it that far.

"We've already spoken with a few witnesses," Copeland continued. "Some of them are willing to say Sophia Hess and her associates strong armed them into participating in the bullying. They've already signed affidavits saying such."

What?

I tried to think. I never considered anyone as going along with the bullying under threat. I mean, obviously some people at school feared becoming targets themselves. They didn't want to be on the receiving end of the Trio's ire so they stayed out of it, but actually joining in because Sophia threatened them? That seemed a stretch even for her. Sophia might be a thug and a bully but she didn't strike me as a 'do as I say or I'll hurt you' type.

More of an 'I'll hurt you at the slightest provocation type' really.

"Who?" Charlotte asked.

"We can't say," Copeland said. "These kinds of legal matters are sensitive and for now their case is separate from yours, but they could be combined as part of a class action suit going forward."

Of course, that's the goal. They didn't just want to embarrass the PRT with Shadow Stalker's behavior. They wanted to condemn the PRT, and the Wards, for one bad egg. I might not want to be under the PRT's thumb, but having met the Wards they didn't seem like bad people for the most part. They certainly didn't deserve to be vilified on the same cross as Sophia.

"What we can say is that we're confident we can back up your accusations," one of the other lawyers said with a smile. "The case would be much dicier without expanded corroboration. The two of you and Mrs. Knott make compelling witnesses but you're also witnesses who can be accused of concocting details of the story together."

His eyes flicked past us to the window.

It's time.

I let myself look confused, waiting for him to continue. Other people started to look where he looked, including Dad and Charlotte. Dean turned in his chair, and once most of everyone was fixed on the window I turned my head.

Astraea cut a trail through the sky to the west, which meant Lafter should be kicking down the door to a certain meth lab. Astraea banked, arcing down into the street and disappearing from view.

"One of the local capes?" Talia asked.

"Newtype," Copeland said. "A recent addition to the local 'hero' roster."

Naturally, he couldn't have a clandestine conversation with 'Newtype' in a room full of Blue Cosmos lawyers.

And that's the power of magic. You just need to keep one hand from seeing what the other hand is doing.

Or, in my case, keep Taylor Hebert in one place and ensure 'everyone' sees Newtype in another.

Thankfully, Blue Cosmos is paranoid, and their building is chalk full of security cameras. Even if people figured Newtype could automate her suit to run on remote, it would surely give anyone pause if they ever thought Taylor Hebert and Newtype were the same person. At the very least it got kind of hard to prove it.

"The one who stopped the assassination attempt on the Peacecraft girl?"

"Yes," Copeland answered. "And the one who," – Dean's phone started ringing – "started the recent gang spat."

Dean looked at his phone, eyes going wide. He excused himself from the room and encouraged us to carry on without him.

The magic gets even better when 'Newtype' calls up Dean Stansfield and tells him she's controlling hers by remote so no one will be suspicious that she's really calling him up on the phone to talk about who murdered his grandfather.

Meanwhile, Taylor Hebert is sitting in a room without a phone in sight.

The meeting continued. Dad did most of the talking, and to be fair he did have a lot of experience with lawyers. Copeland seemed to want to move on to signing papers, but he refused to do anything until all his questions got answered.

Dean eventually came back, looking conflicted. A few people asked about him in low voices they assumed we couldn't hear. I guess he noticed eventually we all did hear and he signed.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm alright. Please, continue."

The question and answer session went on for another two hours. Dad asked questions even I didn't consider.

Talia answered most of them.

"There is the possibility of a counter suit, yes. I don't think it should be a main concern here, though. The PRT is very PR conscious, and Piggot especially. No one in the PR department would recommend that course of action on their end."

Dad nodded.

"That said," she continued. "The girls should brace themselves. Public opinion can be a court too, and they're likely to see a lot of harassment online. Possibly at school. The latter might be the most difficult given their experience."

The woman widened her eyes for a moment, and then asked, "Have Taylor or Charlotte talked to anyone about what happened?"

"Not really," I said. I feigned disinterest, my hand constantly tense at my side. Part of me wanted to grab my phone to follow along with the raid outside, but I also needed to be 'in' the meeting. "Didn't want to."

"I've talked to Mrs. Knott about it," Charlotte said. "And Taylor and I have talked a bit."

Talia nodded. "That's good. If either of you do want to talk to someone, we do have therapists on call."

We were both kind of non-committal on that. No one likes therapy, even people who needed it. I didn't need it though, or at least I desperately didn't want any.

My therapy was beating bad guys and making the city a better place.

Laughter is probably punching someone in the nuts right now.

Copeland looked absolutely giddy when we finally signed on the dotted line.

I'd enjoy the look on his face when it exploded in his face. The guy really rubbed me the wrong way, a lot like Calvert did. Unlike Calvert though I didn't question where to put my finger.

The man was sleaze. He looked at Charlotte and me and only saw his own shot at glory. We didn't matter to him as anything more than tools.

"How'd you do it?" Charlotte asked on our way out the building.

We trailed behind our parents and she kept her voice so low even I barely heard her.

"Do what?" I asked.

"You know."

"I'm sure I don't."

I gave her an even stare. Charlotte should be smart enough to figure I wouldn't talk about that within earshot of anyone from Blue Cosmos. Not even in whispers.

Being outside the building though, I did pull out my phone.

Astraea finished her run under Veda's control a while ago. A few gun and drug stashes, a brothel, a pair of fronts where the Merchants stored some of Squealer's vehicles, and one of Hookwolf's dog rings.

The run went off without a hitch. Veda threw some lines out in my voice, mimicked my movements through Astraea. A thinker might put it together that I wasn't really inside - fucking Tattletale - but I only needed to be sure Dean wouldn't figure things out.

His conversation with Veda answered a lot of my initial questions. I needed to think through a plan to investigate Blue Cosmos in a subtler way than I usually did, but at least I'd be able to work with him and keep my identity somewhat covered.

Overall I was pleased with the little trick.

Not sure how many birds that stone got.

I stopped counting at 'enough.'

And then I checked on Lafter and frowned.

"I need to go."

"What?" Charlotte spun on her heel as I went the other direction.

"Tell my Dad I got a call from a tutor," I said.

I met Green far away from the Blue Cosmos building and got changed into my costume. The van picked me up at a corner, and the drive started.

My mind raced the entire time.

How did I mess it up? What mistake did I make?

When I reached the building, the PRT was already there. Ramius stood with Lafter, talking to her.

Lafter was crying.

I got out of the van and raced over.

"What happened?"

Lafter's head jerked up. She looked like I felt, the questions plain on her face.

How did I mess it up? What mistake did I make?

I turned my head to the building, a simple brownstone. The Haros tracked the two kids to the building. A three story building. Not really all that out of place, but from the outside it looked abandoned.

I noticed the black marks on some of the windows, as well as the firemen rolling up their hoses.

"Was there a fire?" I asked.

"Yes," Ramius said.

"I tried," Lafter said. "I didn't think…"

She trailed off, and before I got to ask I saw the answer.

A pair of EMT's lifted a body bag off the ground into an ambulance. The girl inside, older than Dinah, bled from her eyes, skin flushed white, and body limp.

"They were dead before you got here," Ramius said to Lafter. "There's nothing you could have done."

"But I let her get away," Lafter said. "I could have caught her."

Her?

I walked toward the brownstone, ignoring Ramius' suggestion I not go in.

Test tubes and other glassware lay about, some melted and some merely scorched. I might think they were the remains of a meth lab if not for a few pieces of equipment that didn't fit.

PRT troopers took pictures of the burned interior, and Armsmaster spoke to someone over his communicator.

Ramius stepped up beside me as I looked around.

"There were five," Ramius said. "Lafter found someone inside when she entered, but the fire started - intentionally from what we can tell - and she tried to save the kids."

I saw the marks from the fires, and the outlines of the bodies.

"She didn't know they were already dead."