A Waken 11.B.1

"I think this is the last one," Aston said.

He set the box down, and Biscuit quickly checked it against the manifest. His eyes stung. Needed to check the letters twice because he kept seeing double. Just a little bit more and he could get some sleep.

"You okay?" Aston asked.

"Yeah." Biscuit drew his lips into a smile. "Just a little tired. It's been a long day."

"I can read numbers." Aston held his hand out. "Let me."

The forced smile became more genuine. They'd have to make arrangements to help some of the others get started. Tekkadan would never work with only two literate employees and a dozen half literate ones.

"That's okay, Aston. I'm alright."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. It's just a little bit more."

Aston nodded and turned for the door. Some of the younger kids worked together to move boxes through the hall to another room. Biscuit didn't worry so much about tracking those.

No one should have to worry about having enough food and it was nice not to.

Biscuit double-checked the box number against the manifest a third time and nodded to himself. He then rechecked all the boxes. Just to be four times as sure.

Done.

Biscuit pushed the boxes up against the wall and left. They couldn't mess up on the first job. Newtype delivered models to a store downtown twice a week and Tekkadan needed to keep it going.

Orga and Mikazuki were talking about setting up the conference room last he saw them. Corner of the second floor, he remembered. They didn't mention which corner though.

Biscuit went upstairs and circled half the building before finding anyone. Shino and four others were inside, looking over a long table. Newtype's factory stood beyond the window on the other side of the street.

"Why can't the room just be the same on all sides," Shino grumbled. "Now the table isn't lined up with the door."

"Does it need to be lined up with the door?"

"If it's not lined up with the door it's not lined up with the corners."

"But if it's lined up with the corners it's not lined up with the windows."

"So annoying."

Biscuit smiled, asking, "Has Orga been by here?"

Shino turned. "Oh yeah. Just a bit ago. Said he was going downstairs."

Biscuit nodded and as he left he heard Shino say, "Maybe if we put it at an angle?"

Walking back downstairs, Biscuit moved toward the front of the building. It opened onto the street corner facing Newtype's factory.

Orga liked that.

Figured no one would attack them head on with a cape right across the street. Biscuit wasn't so sure. Being so close made them targets too.

"I can put it together."

"Thanks."

"It's no big deal. I looked up the costs of getting someone to build a sign for me and it's highway robbery. I'll just build yours like I built mine."

Biscuit recognized the voice. He turned the corner toward the lobby. Orga sat on a chair, looking over some papers.

Newtype stood next to him, a piece of paper in her hands.

She wasn't wearing a mask. Biscuit hadn't seen her wear a mask since…Well, she didn't wear one anymore.

"Hey, Orga," he called.

"Biscuit." Orga lifted his head and looked his way. "Everything set?"

"Yeah." Biscuit glanced to Taylor Hebert and smiled. "We got all the boxes. We'll get them to the store in the morning."

"Thanks. The Haros are grounded and they usually fly the boxes over."

She seemed so normal. At the moment, at least.

The look in her eyes during the meeting, talking about fighting Teacher—and Biscuit had looked Teacher up—struck him. He seemed like a big deal, but she acted like he was just an inconvenience. Something she had to deal with, not something she wanted to deal with.

"Take a look. Some of the kids came up with it."

He glanced to Newtype and she held out the paper in her hand. Biscuit took it. Four shapes, arranged together. A circle at the bottom beneath a sort of spade like shape, and two arms on either side. Looked kind of like a flower.

"What is it?" Biscuit asked.

"A logo to go with the name," Orga answered.

"I see."

Biscuit stared at it, not really sure what to say. It looked nice? He never had any time for art or drawing. He'd learned enough Japanese over the years. Tekkadan. Iron Flower. Odd name, but Orga did have a flair for the dramatic. He said it would help them remember those who didn't make it this far, and remind them there was still a way to go.

"How long have you been up, Biscuit?" Orga asked.

"Not that long."

"You look like you've been up all night," Newtype noted.

"Well—"

"Go get some sleep," Orga ordered. "There's no need to run ourselves ragged anymore."

Newtype frowned. "You all went without sleep a lot?"

"Not anymore," Orga reiterated. "Go get some sleep. Sleep in even. Akihiro can get the boxes where they need to go in the morning. You work too hard."

Biscuit wanted to protest, but thinking about it just made his eyes heavier. He hadn't eaten in awhile either. He could use some rest.

"Yeah. Okay." He handed the paper back.

"Try to relax," Orga said, taking it. "We're better off now than ever, but we're not out of the woods, yet."

"Yeah."

He noticed a confused look on Newtype's face. Yeah, she'd never seen the real Orga, had she? She'd only seen his tough guy act. The one he showed to outsiders.

He waved a hand to them and started for the door.

Walking through the city woke him up a bit.

Joining the ABB didn't make you safe. It just changed the dangers you needed to watch out for. The Empire and the Merchants had their territories staked out, but the new members and the young ones liked looking for trouble. They shied away from groups but anyone in ABB colors walking alone became initiation material, or simple entertainment.

Of course, the Empire and the Merchants didn't really exist anymore.

Biscuit didn't wear ABB colors anymore.

It didn't shake the feeling.

The sense of needing to watch every corner. Every vehicle. As long as you were weary, you'd usually be okay. Gang violence wasn't like a video game. A lot of it came down to opportunity and temptation. Bad situations could be avoided simply by recognizing a bad situation before walking into it.

Even while fighting to keep his eyes open, Biscuit didn't see any bad situations. Life looked normal. A lot like a vague memory he had of home before the floods and the militias made everything a mess.

Because of Newtype?

Biscuit vaguely remembered when Lung first came to Brockton Bay. He started fighting the enforcers; the capes the gangs that became the ABB employed before they were the ABB. Lung beat them one after the other. Within a matter of months he'd taken out everyone but Oni Lee and Himiko. Biscuit didn't know what happened to her. He just noticed she wasn't around anymore one day.

Biscuit didn't think he'd ever see that again. Then Newtype came. In just a little over half a year, she'd beaten the Merchants, Lung, the ABB, and the Empire. She'd crushed all of them. It made Lung's sudden conquest so paltry.

He still wasn't sure about teaming up with her.

That's not the kind of thing someone happy with a simple life does. That's what they wanted, wasn't it? To live simple lives free from the world and the chaos in it?

"Just a bit further," he mumbled to himself as he walked.

Biscuit would have to make sure the guys moved the beds into the building next. Walking across town, safer as it might be, was exhausting. The new building looked a lot nicer than the old one too. Lacked the moldy smell too.

He managed to get some sleep in an armchair.

Didn't quite have the energy to make it up the stairs.

"Hey. Pillsbury."

Biscuit stirred.

"Miss Bakuda?" He opened his eyes to find her standing in front of the armchair. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "The whole point of going separate ways was so none of you would get caught up in my shit. Defeats the purpose if you come back."

Come back?

Biscuit looked around the room. He went to the old hideout by mistake. The one they'd moved out of as soon as Newtype arrested Lung.

"Sorry," he offered. "More tired than I thought I was."

"Well you've been napping all night."

All night? Biscuit checked his watch.

"Crap. I should—"

"Yup. Get going." Bakuda rose up and stalked off. "Have a nice day and shit."

"Sorry. I—"

"Go!"

Biscuit frowned.

Bakuda was temperamental. He'd seen how rapidly her mood could shift. Melancholy one moment. Furious the next. Focused to distracted. Angry to happy. He didn't know how much of it she faked.

But it was weird.

For all her complaints, he'd never seen her turn anyone away. Not even Shino. She didn't like being alone. She liked talking to people. Being around people.

Why did she want him gone?

Rising from the chair Biscuit walked over to the basement door and looked inside. The space was oddly barren. Had she moved her workshop somewhere else? Why was she still here?

Searching the back of the old apartment complex, Biscuit noticed one of the doors was open. He stepped out and saw a new jeep parked in the back alley. Dark green in color, with a soft top.

Bakuda crouched at the back, pushing a case onto the bed.

"Going somewhere?" Biscuit asked.

She flinched and turned on him. She'd donned her mask in the brief moment since she woke him up, and her gloves and coat.

"Why are you still here?"

Biscuit looked past her, noting that none of the cases in the jeep were her tools or machines. They all looked like weapons. Two launchers. Bombs. More bombs. Some bigger bombs.

Biscuit never went to school after his seventh birthday. He never went to college. He taught himself a few things here and there.

He wasn't stupid.

There was only one reason he could think of that Bakuda would be armed to the teeth and packing a jeep. She wasn't crazy enough to try assaulting the Rig or the PRT building. That meant they were moving Lung today.

And Bakuda was going after him.

"Pillsbury!"

"Sorry. I'll—"

His voice failed him.

He'll what? Why did the idea of leaving feel so wrong? He'd seen people die. He'd seen people kill to protect other people. The world was cruel. Not everyone could rely on police, heroes, or powers to save them. You did what you needed to do to protect what was yours. To keep yourself from being left behind like all the others.

Was that why?

Because they were leaving Bakuda behind?

She couldn't go to the nice building Newtype helped them get. She needed to play villain to Newtype's hero. She wasn't starting a business. Or getting all the food she could want. They were getting those things, at her expense.

It wasn't fair.

"Get out of here," she snapped. "You can't be here right now!"

"Why do you have to be here?" Biscuit asked.

He knew the answer.

Because the world was cruel, especially to those who didn't fit in.

She never would if she killed Lung. Newtype would have to go after her. That's what heroes did. Orga? Orga would sit and try not to think about it. He had everyone else to worry about and he knew how to make those choices.

He left people behind, so no one else needed to feel the guilt of it. He took responsibility. Even now that they were supposed to be moving forward and living new lives.

"Miss Bakuda—"

"Enough with the Miss! You need to—"

"Going somewhere?"

Bakuda turned, looking down the alley. Biscuit did the same, noticing the little red robot sitting on the ground. One of Newtype's robots.

"Moving some gear," Bakuda offered quickly.

"Looks dangerous," Newtype said from the robot. "Is it safe?"

"It's fine."

An audible sigh filled the alleyway.

"Neither of us are this stupid. You're going after Lung. How did you find out it was happening today?"

"Lucky guess," Bakuda grumbled.

Another sigh.

The robot turned slightly, facing Biscuit. He flinched, rapidly thinking of something to say. What should he say? Were they not supposed to be around Bakuda anymore in Newtype's eyes? Would she take his presence as some kind of plot?

"Let's go then."

The robot rolled forward. It bounced over a small hole before popping two panels out the bottom of its body and throwing itself into the air. The ball landed in the jeep and climbed into the back seat.

"Come again?" Bakuda asked.

"I can either waste my time stopping you from trying to kill Lung, or we can both follow the transports and make sure he goes to the Birdcage where he belongs. Then you don't have to try to kill him and I don't have to fight you about it. Problem solved."

Biscuit blinked, then looked at Bakuda.

She hesitated, and after relaxing the fists at her side she snarled and slammed the back closed.

Biscuit knew that wouldn't stop her. Bakuda didn't give up on something once she set her mind to it. Trying to stop her tended to just make her try harder. He learned that trying to convince her not to build bombs for Lung, only for her to build better bombs.

She was proud.

As she walked around to the driver's side, Biscuit grabbed her wrist.

She turned on him, and he quickly said, "Someone might notice you're following the transports. If they pull you over, it'll be a fight."

"I'll practice defensive driving," she replied.

Scrambling, Biscuit just started moving. He pulled his hat from his pocket and pulled it over his head.

"I'll drive. You sit in back. You can cover yourself if anything happens and I can talk my way out."

He opened the door and felt relieved to see the keys in the ignition. Bakuda stuttered, trying to say something but mostly making empty noises. Biscuit started the engine and closed the door. The red robot sat in the passenger seat, looking at him.

"Um. Hi?"

"Hello," a robotic voice greeted, "hello! Haro. Haro!"

"Right." Looking back at Bakuda, he mustered enough steadiness to say, "We should get going or we'll miss it," without his voice shaking.

"Fucking bullshit," she hissed.

The back door opened and Bakuda slipped in.

"Forward, left ten blocks," Newtype directed. "There's Five convoys heading out and three additional decoys. Each is separated by thirty minutes following the same basic route."

"Five?" Biscuit asked.

He quickly wondered if he should ask, but she answered anyway.

She explained that the PRT was moving the Empire's capes too. Hookwolf was going to the Birdcage with Lung, and the rest of Kaiser's gang were going to a maximum security prison. They split the Protectorate up, one member to each vehicle, minus Prism and Stratos.

If anyone attacked one transport the Protectorate could converge on them. One member only needed to hold out for a few minutes, and Dragon and Dauntless could show up to help.

"Dragon?" Biscuit asked.

"Yeah," Newtype answered. "She's moving Hookwolf and Lung herself."

If Bakuda tried to kill Lung, she'd have to fight Newtype and Dragon.

Biscuit glanced at her in the rear view but he couldn't see her face. Stupid. Of course he couldn't.

"Right," Newtype said. "Then another left and another right."

Biscuit followed the instructions. Soon enough he drove up behind a van. A familiar van, though the paint was different.

"That's yours?" he asked.

"Yeah. Follow it. We're going to stick to the third transport. It's moving Fenja and Menja."

Bakuda spoke up, saying, "Lung—"

"Is with Hookwolf on the fourth transport. We'll be ahead of them and better able to circle back if anything does happen. This thing can go off-road, right?"

"It better."

"No problems then."

Biscuit followed the van, sticking behind it as it drove through the Docks, into Captain's Hill, and then onto the highway out of town. He spotted the PRT transport ahead. An armored truck, four police vehicles around it, two armored vans, and Miss Militia's motorcycle.

He only caught a glimpse though.

Newtype wanted to stay out of sight, so she trailed the vehicles by a few hundred feet. Biscuit could only make them out because the road was so long, and at first mostly downhill. Once they reached the mountains he couldn't see them anymore.

Biscuit kept glancing back to Bakuda. Her fingers were twitching. She still planned to do it, then?

Stupid.

What could he really do to stop her that Newtype couldn't? No. No he needed to stop her from even fighting Newtype. If that happened she'd be finished. Newtype's secret arrangement was the only way Bakuda could survive without becoming…Someone else.

Looking out the window, Biscuit offered, "The mountains are nice." He said it to distract himself more than anything.

He'd never been far from Brockton Bay. The ship that smuggled him to America stopped in the south once. He didn't know which city, but then it just went to Brockton Bay. The Triads were the biggest gang in the Docks grabbing up wharf rats then.

He met Orga and Mikazuki then. Akihiro and Shino came along a bit later, and then Aston, Tran, and Gig. Tran died after nine days. A lot of them died. You got used to it.

People did two things after death in Biscuit's experience. Some shut themselves off and tried to avoid getting attached. Akihiro did that for a long time before opening up. Others, though, they got attached faster. Like they wanted to know everyone, even knowing many of them would die.

Biscuit found himself unable to pretend other people didn't matter. To close himself off. He got attached easily.

Was that why he was in the jeep? Because he couldn't let go?

As they drove along, Biscuit did see Dragon. Her suit flew high, but the day was clear. It flew too low to be a plane and wasn't shaped like a helicopter.

"Where is the Birdcage?" he asked.

"Not sure," Newtype answered. "They don't advertise. Probably not a good idea to follow all the way there."

Biscuit swallowed. "Why?"

"Because we'll be asked questions. Specifically, I'll be asked why you're following my van."

Oh. Right.

"Besides. No one has ever escaped a Birdcage transport once it's gotten through Toronto anyway. Mad Cap is the only one who ever tried, and he vanished a few years ago. Eidolon's first big bust."

"And let me guess." Bakuda groaned. "He was assassinated too. By the Cape Templars."

"Don't know. He kept intercepting Birdcage transports. They might not have appreciated that. Or he just got caught."

Biscuit turned his head. Cape Templars? Newtype mentioned Cranial was killed by Eidolon to keep a secret, but Orga decided they should leave. It was too heavy for them. He didn't want to go back to being some cape's henchman. But they still needed Newtype to make the deal with Yashima and Turbines.

It made Biscuit wonder if things were really going to change that much. Newtype did seem nicer than Lung. At the least, she wouldn't break someone's neck for some paltry misstep or defeat they couldn't prevent. The improvement just didn't make him feel any better.

Conditioning, maybe. He'd been disappointed before.

They had a new place to live. All the food they could want. A discernible lack of bullets coming their way. It might not last. It might not be as good as it seemed.

"Hmm."

Biscuit glanced at the robot.

"What?" he and Bakuda asked.

"Probably nothing. Which means it's something."

Biscuit checked all the mirrors. He followed Newtype's van by a few car lengths. The PRT convoy was a few hundred feet ahead. They'd made it through the winding mountain roads and now things were somewhat long and straight.

Other traffic was sparse. Biscuit noticed some long lines at over and underpasses as they went. PRT trying to keep the roads clear as they moved the prisoners?

"What—"

Biscuit stopped, noticing something spinning in the air.

Dragon?

Her suit was diving, and there were three other dots in the sky. A flash of light cut through the air. Then Another from Dragon.

"What is—"

"Right!" Newtype snapped.

Biscuit pulled on the wheel. He followed Newtype's van off the highway and onto an overpass. They drove through a line of cars to the blaring of horns and Biscuit's own thundering chest.

"What are you—" Bakuda stopped as they went over a lip, off the road, and into a gas station parking lot. When she stopped he slammed his foot on the brakes and rocked forward.

Biscuit glanced around, not entirely sure what was going on. They'd pulled onto a barren dirt road on a wooded hillside. The highway stretched out below, curving slightly through the hills and low mountains.

He saw Dragon's suit fall out of the sky. Dust and smoke burst in the woods ahead as it crashed. Maybe a mile or two? The other three suits followed, lasers and missiles flying through the air.

"The fuck is that?" Bakuda asked.

"Dragonslayers," Newtype revealed.

"Who?" Biscuit asked.

"My problem."

Her van opened, and Biscuit watched as machines lifted a machine out. It wasn't Newtype's suit. It was the other one. The one StarGazer used. As it moved, Newtype's suit shot through the sky with a long cry.

"Get back on the road." She sounded a lot like Orga when she wanted to. "Armsmaster is diverting. If Kaiser is in a position to hit the transports he'll do it now and he'll start with Fenja and Menja."

Biscuit froze. He glanced back at Bakuda.

"Not going to babysit me?" Bakuda asked.

The red robot turned. Nothing was said at first. It made Biscuit nervous, especially with one of Newtype's suits powering up directly in front of him.

"I'm not your babysitter," Newtype mumbled. "This will never work if I try to be." She inhaled. "Trust means leaving yourself open to disappointment, unfortunately."

Bakuda went silent for a moment. Then, "Well, I promise to be on my best behavior."

StarGazer's suit burst into the air and followed Newtype's. Both suits flew off and Biscuit looked to the direction of Dragon's crash. Two of the other suits were in the air over the smoke, shooting at something.

"Is she going to be okay?" Biscuit wondered aloud. "They took out Dragon—"

He looked ahead. From the hill, he could see the road ahead and behind. The PRT convoy was continuing. Back behind them, he could see the next in traffic. People were looking at the smoke. Some cars even pulled off the road. People got out. Hands pointing at Newtype's suits as they flew toward the fight.

Biscuit gripped the wheel and started looking at the side mirrors. First his side. "Miss Bakuda." Then Bakuda's. "Maybe we should—"

She stared to the left, in the direction of Lung's transport.

"Miss Bakuda?"

Gunshots sounded in the distance.

The sound of metal grinding against metal drew his eyes back to the PRT convoy ahead.

He leaned forward, looking through the windshield. Two of the police cars lifted off the ground. Metal spikes pierced them from below and the doors swung wide as the men inside jumped out. More spikes shot out of the ground all at once. Smoke and dust exploded from tires and vehicles flipped or slid.

Miss Militia jumped as her bike was pierced by a stake rising from the ground. Gunfire erupted, and men started emerging from the tree line.

An armored figure followed behind them.

"Kaiser," Biscuit mumbled.

Kaiser raised an arm as Miss Militia fired at him. A metal wall cut through the road, dividing it in two. Cars started backing up or turning off the road. Some emptied as people simply got out and ran.

Armsmaster and Newtype were already gone. Could Miss Militia fight Kaiser alone? No. The way Newtype explained it, the Protectorate would converge. The convoy behind was getting closer. Lung and Hookwolf's convoy.

Guards would be pulled away from Lung's transport to fight Kaiser.

She'd have her chance.

She really planned to do it then.

He felt a pit in his stomach at that.

They should be past that, shouldn't they? No more blood. No more killing. Lung was going to the Birdcage. He didn't need to die. Maybe once. Maybe. Not anymore though.

If only it were so simple.

Biscuit saw it himself. Many times. People struggled to let things go. To change. Maybe that's why he had such a hard time with the idea of Tekkadan. He'd been a wharf rat for so long, he didn't know anything else. Even if his life became better, that change felt like losing a piece of himself.

Like throwing something away.

Is that what she felt? That if she cast aside the villain, she'd lose a piece of herself? The piece of herself that kept the rest of her from doing the things she saw in her mind.

"Hey, Biscuit."

Did she just say Biscuit?

He turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"You know, don't you? What I was going to do that first night."

Biscuit raised a hand and pulled his hat down. "I guess."

He knew. The way she'd held that knife, and the way she stared at him. How small the bomb was. He wasn't sure. He just sort of knew.

She made it to go inside people.

"Am I a bad person?"

What?

He looked into the rear-view mirror. She held something in her hand. A piece of a paper?

Bakuda sat quietly, staring back as another PRT van ahead was pushed off the road. Kaiser raised another wall, blocking Miss Militia's bullets. His men swarmed over the road. Two trucks followed them with more men. They surrounded the armored truck carrying Fenja and Menja.

Was she a bad person? Biscuit wasn't sure he had any right to judge. Some of the things he, Orga, and Mikazuki did over the years…Were they good?

It's not like Bakuda actually did it.

Maybe that didn't matter to some people but Biscuit saw temptation everywhere in the slums and the refugee camps. People who thought of stealing food, or water, or women, or kids. Some were bad. Some were just desperate, or broken.

Mikazuki killed people. He did it easily, like it didn't matter. Did that mean he wanted to kill people? Biscuit didn't think so. Orga didn't like being in charge. He was because someone had to be, and he always figured out what to do.

Was Mikazuki bad for doing something he didn't want to, or Orga good for the same reason? Is temptation enough to damn a person, absent action? Action absent desire? People talked about Purity like a hero now. No one remembered Tran, or how she crushed him like swatting a bug.

But she fought villains now, so she was a hero? In whose eyes? People who'd lived contently from birth? Who never needed to wonder if they'd have food or a bullet in their belly by sundown?

How were people like them ever supposed to be good?

"I think—" He stopped, inhaled, and in a firmer voice said, "I don't think anyone is a bad person. Not as long as they keep trying to be a good person."

And that sounded stupid. Really stupid. Why did he say that?

"Miss Bakuda—"

"Drop the miss already."

She dropped the paper and pushed the door open.

"Stay here. Be unfortunate if something."

Something? "Miss Bakuda!"

"Seriously. Enough with the miss."

The paper slipped off to the floor.

Biscuit didn't hear the sounds of Bakuda grabbing something from the back of the jeep. From his seat he could make out a few sentences. Biscuit felt his jaw slacken. What did any of that mean? It wasn't Bakuda's handwriting.

Bakuda kills thousands.

Bakuda destroys the Brockton Bay hospital

Bakuda kills Newtype.

Bakuda destroys city.

The next line was circled. Twice.

Bakuda kills Behemoth.

The last line, in the corner.

I see what can happen. Take your pick.

Biscuit grabbed the note. He sat up, looking toward Lung's transport. He didn't see Bakuda. Where was—

"Miss Bakuda?"

He turned the other way.

He stared.

"Where—"

She was going the wrong way. Toward Kaiser.

Biscuit shifted the jeep into gear.

"Miss Bakuda?" He called out the window.

She threw her launcher over her shoulder and her boots ignited.