A Waken 13.3
I splashed water on my face and tried to drink the taste of bile away. Nothing I ate in the past day was so spicy. A relative mass issue, I thought. Violent vomiting didn't happen to the cats. They were small, and moving them from one place to another wasn't nearly as vertigo-inducing as moving two humans.
Something to solve before using the teleporter again.
"Planning to market that capability?" Faultline stood by the door behind me, arms crossed over her chest. "The PRT pays a lot for anything capable of teleporting groups. Corp teams too. There's never enough supply to meet demand."
I spat the water into the sink and wiped my mouth again. "How mercenary of you."
"There's nothing wrong with making a living."
Making a living. Right.
It's not that I didn't see her point. Newter's power was basically hallucinogens. Gregor made chemicals. Spitfire spat fire. Faultline destroyed things. Not exactly powers with high marketability, especially with the way the laws were currently written. Still, it seemed like an excuse to me. It's not like heroes couldn't get paid, they just needed to dance around a bit and become agitated at all the hoops.
I appreciated that Faultline didn't leave bloody trails of destruction behind her, but that didn't absolve the discomfort I felt involving myself with her. Harder to ignore when standing in the same room. Just another taste to swallow down. My circumstances weren't exactly ideal either, not if I wanted to stop Teacher.
"Have to solve the vomiting problem first. Where's Mockelburg?"
"His hotel. He's kept interesting company the past few days."
"More shady international types?"
"Some are closely tied to Blue Cosmos. Others are complete unknowns to me. Black market types."
"And you don't know them?"
She shook her head. "It's a big world. Runs in circuits. Not everyone knows everyone else and everyone keeps it that way."
"No Number Man then?"
"Mockelburg is clearly not the one in charge. That's your interest. For me, the circles Mockelburg is sourcing weapons from will have leads to Number Man, and Number Man leads us to Cauldron. I can work with that."
I'd been in the cape scene long enough to catch glimpses of Faultline's 'side of the world.'
The black market is like a maze. There's always someone somewhere looking to buy something, and someone else somewhere else looking to sell it. It only took a few months of my forcing Toybox out of my neck of the world for some other tinker to start selling to the Patriots.
There would always be an illicit market for Strangers, Thinkers, and Tinkers. Probably why the Elite went after the Foundation. Every addition to their 'business' became a new resource someone would pay for. I pondered how long it would be before someone tried approaching Bakuda about supplying some demands and how I could use it, but it would have to wait.
"I'm not convinced about Cauldron being connected," I admitted, "if it existed."
Faultline didn't argue the point, to my surprise. "Let me worry about my end. If it comes to nothing, you haven't lost anything."
Fair. Though, I knew part of our arrangement was an expectation of return. Faultline had her interests and I had mine. Regardless of the truth, Number Man would probably point us in the directions we wanted and when it came down to it we would both need allies. Eventually.
"Ready?" she asked.
I turned away from the sink and walked out of the bathroom. "Go on. I'll be right out."
She didn't move. "Are you alright?"
"Fine." I looked straight ahead at my reflection in the mirror. "Just a little dizzy."
I managed to keep my face straight, but my fingers were tight against the rim of the sink.
There isn't time to debate this.
I waited, unsure what I'd say if she pressed. My head already hurt enough as is.
Faultline turned and pushed the door open without another word.
I kept my face straight until she left, and then for a while longer after the door closed.
In my ear, Veda murmured, "Taylor?"
I gasped, legs giving out as my knees hit the floor. I didn't scream, but the sound that escaped my throat was more than a hiss. The fucking daggers in my skull were stabbing right into my damn eyes. The pain had subsided almost to the point I didn't notice it anymore, but after the teleport it came back with full force.
"It has been two weeks," Veda said. "I am informing Lieutenant Ramius something is wrong."
"No," I hissed. "Just migraines. My grandmother had them too."
"They are not just migraines." A window appeared on my visor. The brainwave scanner. "While within variance, your brain patterns are close to flagging the program we made to track potential master influences."
"I'm not being mastered."
"That makes it more concerning. You require medical attention."
She chose now to bring this up?
Admittedly, at first part of me feared the headaches were a prelude to becoming the Butcher, but that wasn't it. They were just bad and recurring. No powers came with them or voices in my head. Othala was still alive, trapped in the reality and time jumping loop Bakuda's bomb put her in. A bomb that no doubt left the PRT very nervous about leaving her free, since such a device could probably work on just about any cape.
That's what had Tagg pushing me, wasn't it? The PRT was nervous about Bakuda making more of those bombs and they were trying to see where I stood.
Problems for later.
I grimaced and pulled myself up to my feet. "We don't have time to debate this and we can't tell Murrue. I don't want her to have to explain—"
"Taylor, you are in pain," Veda pleaded.
"I can handle pain." We're old friends. "Whatever Operation British is, it's happening soon."
"It is not happening tomorrow and I am informing your father and Lieutenant Ramius your headaches are worsening… In five hours."
I sighed, one hand pressing against the side of my skull. In five hours, we'd be done and everyone would expect me to be in Hartford. I couldn't play it off as the teleporter messing with me, not to Veda. She knew better. Maybe that would work with others though, and if I didn't want to mention the teleporter I could blame the 'fight' with Faultline's crew.
Veda was playing me. I knew that. Not in a bad way. She knew I wouldn't back down in the middle of something no matter what. Saying she'd go over my head to tell Dad and Murrue something was wrong in five hours was her way of bribing my cooperation.
That was my fault, for being so stubborn.
"Okay." I forced myself up. "Five hours."
I splashed some more water on my face. The coolness helped with the pain. Fortunately, it didn't blur my vision, inhibit my movement, or prevent me from thinking. It just hurt.
It was while walking out of the bathroom that I remembered. "Where's Imp?"
"She is almost at her destination."
The Crew had converted the basement into a small living space. Most of their belongings were gone when I reentered. Only some old furniture remained, and a single laptop. Obviously, they didn't intend to come back.
They were huddled together when I walked in, a map in Gregor's hand. I felt a little annoyed when they shut up as I came into earshot. "I'm not stabbing you in the back."
"Thinkers," Gregor said. "Better if any surprises are real. The PRT will watch recordings of the fighting."
"It's fine," Faultline agreed. "We'll handle our end. No need for you to hold back. The best way to fake a fight that looks real is to let it be real. We'll handle ourselves."
If they said so. "Computer?"
Newter pointed. "Over there. Cheap, but with a big screen. That's what you wanted right?"
"Yeah."
I took the laptop from the top of an opened box and sat down on the couch. Green rolled over to my side and connected himself to the device. Veda overwrote its software and quickly turned the cheap device into a reasonably sized monitor for me. My visor and phone could only display so much, and I expected to be watching multiple feeds as our play went on.
I connected to Aisha while Veda worked. "Imp. Talk to me."
"Are you okay?" she asked.
Fuck. "Fine." I purposefully didn't look at any of Faultline's team. My hand produced my phone and I started dialing Dinah's number. She should be out of school now. Lafter too. "Where are you?"
The answer didn't come immediately, and I didn't want to keep debating my damn headaches with everyone one after the other.
"I just strolled past security," she replied mid-thought.
Veda brought the feed from her mask up on my monitor.
Blue Cosmos maintained a headquarters in every state capital in the union. Except for Boise. Nothing happened in Boise.
The building reminded me of the PRT building back in Brockton Bay. Marble and glass, smooth and modern in design. Big open lobby with a gift shop and a museum. The big difference was Blue Cosmos' posters made my stomach turn. No way they didn't know that some were callbacks to old Nazi propaganda posters, but that figured.
Where you find one kind of bigotry, you usually find others.
"The server room will be in the basement," Veda said. "Down the stairs to your right and then at the end of the hall on the left."
Imp switched her mask to the sonic mode and looked in the directions Veda directed. "I'm going. Give me a sec."
Veda recorded the noises around her. Generic conversations. One tour guide with a group of students—yey—and a group of men and women in suits talking in various clusters around the room. With Blue Cosmos' big leadership meeting coming up next week, there were a lot of faces in the crowd I recognized. Dean's father was there, for one. More than him, I noticed the blond in the white suit.
Muruta Azrael, which I still didn't believe was his real name.
He stood in front of some cameras and reporters, blathering on about the importance of opposing 'state power' and the 'abuses of an unfair system.'
I wonder if your emails will make you out to be a fat hypocrite when I get into them.
His were probably the most candid I'd come across in my search for information. The man didn't mince words. He knew he was manipulating people and using them for his own ends, and when a camera wasn't around he didn't hide it.
"We're heading out," Faultline said to me. She waved her team to the door. "See you at the rendezvous."
"Right." Grue lingered for a moment, and I almost rolled my eyes. "Imp will be fine. If something does somehow happen, I'll bail her out."
Orga's question to me came back to mind—were people's lives more important to me than my goals? I had told him yes, but truthfully there were times I wondered how true that was. Times like this, where I once again knew my actions would bring about harm. Not deaths, because I wouldn't tolerate it, but people would get hurt. The rational part of me of course recognized people would get hurt even if I did nothing.
It wasn't the time for introspections though.
I brought up some of the emails on my phone. There were lines and names highlighted throughout.
Dinah eventually picked up. "Sorry. My mom needed something real quick."
"It's fine. We haven't started yet."
On my visor, I brought up a rough map of Hartford. The city was about the same size as Brockton Bay, but not quite as abandoned and rotting. They had a small cape scene dominated by independents and one or two small cape gangs. The Protectorate only boasted a single member, a thinker, and two Wards in the city.
"Ready?"
"Ready," Dinah replied.
I hadn't used Dinah's power this way in a long time. For what felt like ages, Dinah was a firewall. The early warning system that let me know something was about to happen, and my safety net for troubleshooting potentially lethal encounters. Using her power as an information gathering tool purely speculatively was something I hadn't done since before Leviathan, save for brief experiments.
"What happens if Faultline and her team kidnap Duncan Luis Mockelburg in Hartford, Connecticut?"
Dinah started with her answers and I focused my attention on Red's camera feed. He'd moved to the roof of the building above me, eyes watching a hotel down the street. Mockelburg and a bunch of other bigwigs from out of state were staying there. Security was up, cops and black suits with guns. Nothing that would stop Faultline from getting in without much trouble.
"I'm in," Aisha said. She raised her hands, looking at the USBs in each. "What now?"
Veda instructed her where to place each.
I watched quietly. I'd held back from going all out on Blue Cosmos. I didn't want the heat, and I still needed them to wrap the lawsuit up quickly. I also didn't want to lose Dean as an ally in any investigation.
I was tired of dancing through coded emails and vague references trying to figure out Teacher's and Blue Cosmos' intentions. I knew enough, namely the chaos and disregard for human costs. Faultline left looking for the Number Man and ended up finding Duncan Mockelburg and a bunch of shady black market shit instead. The Empire already taught me the lesson that bigots and arsenals were a bad combination.
The lawsuit was over now. Dean planned to leave Blue Cosmos. No more reasons to hold back and hopefully, no reason for Blue Cosmos to think I was the one now poking around.
One device went in an easy to find spot, and the other somewhere more obscure. The server room consisted of several dozen towers and hundreds of cables. When Brockton Bay's shipping industry dried up, it rippled outward. Hartford found itself with lots of shuttered businesses and cheap real estate as a result. Unlike Brockton Bay, it didn't have a huge villain problem though. Tech companies bought up the buildings and the city had become something of a server hub for much of the northeast.
Blue Cosmos' building in the city hosted several of their websites and forums, including the rebuilt Phantom Pain board.
Their security team would eventually find the first bug after a good solid look and be satisfied. Ideally, that would leave the second in place for a time. Long enough for me to get a lot more up to date information on what Blue Cosmos was doing, when, and where.
Veda went right through their firewalls. Non-tinker-tech stuff. It looked a bit like whoever they bought it from used a thinker or two, though. Hypocrites and bigots. They went hand-in-hand.
"Head to the conference rooms on the third floor," I directed. "Veda can monitor the server network now that she's in." Aisha began moving and I started looking over Dinah's answers. "Sonic is showing up."
"Gloria Bell," Veda confirmed. "She is currently on a patrol route three miles from the hotel."
She was outed with every other independent when Teacher leaked the PRT's files. Hartford weathered that storm though. The lack of large gangs or stark divides probably helped. No independent wanted to risk all the others coming down on them for going too far. Sonic boasted experience too. She was a few years older than me, but had been an active cape for nearly a decade.
A long time to hone her power.
"Creation and manipulation of sound waves," Veda confirmed. "Should we warn Faultline?"
"They wanted to make it look real. That means we let them figure things out themselves."
Grue would be their answer. I knew his mist, whatever it really was, interfered with the travel of sound waves. He could stop Sonic's power dead, at least wherever his power happened to be.
I needed to focus on my end, headache be damned.
Aisha weaved her way through crowded halls and stairwells, whistling to herself. We didn't have a map of the building's security like we did the PRT building, but Veda was already in their servers. She easily erased the pair from any footage and replaced them with thin air. Same trick, simpler methods.
She made her way to the conference room, filled with young men and women arranging papers and setting up a smart board. Big meeting coming up. Aisha picked out a spot on the windowsill and sat herself down as people moved around her.
"Those two," I said. I pointed at the screen, where two men at the end of the table were talking. They didn't look like aids. Too old, and too serious. "What are they talking about?"
Black moved on Aisha's back, shifting to her other shoulder and looked directly at the men. Veda isolated them and started playing their voices over Green's speakers. They weren't facing Aisha, so I couldn't quite make out who said what, but their tones weren't particularly shy of the prying ears in the room.
"—ossibly want. Azrael is running with his ego first and the organization is suffering for it. At this rate we're going to have internal divisions three different ways."
"You don't have to tell me."
"Xavir Londo and Todd Morrison," Veda said. "They are both founding members of Blue Cosmos."
Like Sam?
And they didn't like Azrael.
I listened to the conversation. Nothing better to do while I waited. It turned out to be oddly enlightening.
"What's this big initiative he's been hinting at?"
"I wouldn't know any more than you." Londo scoffed. "Azrael prefers his people and they know he prefers them. They know not to talk."
"That's not how this works."
"Try telling that to these damn children. Acting like they're rock stars. Always looking for a camera to talk at instead of doing any real work. And the media eats them up."
"Not like it used to be."
"No, it's not."
Maybe Teacher was afraid of more than just one founding member of Blue Cosmos coming out against the organization. If Sam had lived a few more months, would he have pushed these two into speaking out as well? A few comments from Morrison made me wonder, but I'd rather have the bigots divided than united.
Others began entering the room and the two men switched to mundane conversation. Grandchildren and the like. That sort of thing. Nothing I found very interesting. Going around the room and isolating some of the small chats starting up didn't offer much of anything.
I expected that. That's why I planned a whole scene for the room. A private little orchestral score conducted by Faultline and myself.
I looked away to check the time, and Aisha said, "Your boyfriend is here."
Why is this the thing people tease me over? "I don't have a—"
Dean looked about the room. He walked in behind his father, hands in his pockets and visibly uncomfortable. Not so easy now that he knew he wasn't sticking around? I watched his eyes, and Veda started highlighting those he looked at. Morrison. Todd. Michaels. All older members of Blue Cosmos in their fifties and sixties. People he thought he could convince?
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Right now," Dinah suggested.
Damn it. "Not ever."
"My power and I disagree."
"He's not my type."
"You have a type?" Aisha asked.
"Tall and muscly," Dinah answered. "He's actually pretty fit under that suit. He works out."
Aisha leaned slightly toward Dean. "Really?"
"This is important," I pressed.
Aisha scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, some real mission impossible stuff. When do I get my chewing gum dynamite?"
This is not helping my headache.
I rubbed my temple with one hand and focused.
The meeting seemed to be lingering. Most of the seats were full, and a few people were suggesting they get started since it wasn't a formal event and everyone wasn't expected to be there. That seemed to lead to a girl my age to stand and give some kind of commencement speech.
Red's feed zoomed in as Mockelburg exited the building. A pair of guards flanked him, with two more standing on either side of a limo parked by the curb. Man definitely had money. Lots of it from what I could tell. He invested in the mid-thousands tech boom and came out way ahead. A lot of that money went right into his favorite 'charity' organization.
"Mockelburg is moving," I said. "Forecast, same question as before."
I wanted to test something.
While Dinah wrote out her answers back in Brockton Bay, another line connected.
"I'm here. What did I miss?"
"Lots of old guys gripping," Aisha replied.
Lafter groaned. "I like it when old guys complain. They're so folksy."
"And bigoted." Aisha looked at the girl giving the introductions. "I feel like all the lingering grievance in here is gonna rub off on me. I'll start complaining about how I'm only rich enough to afford one yacht and not seven. How unfair it is that I have to pay taxes and shit… Do we pay taxes?"
"Taylor."
"No, Lafter. I am not going to tinker a yacht. That's what the teleporter is—" Black smoke poured into the street ahead of Mockelburg. "Faultline is making her move."
"A call is being placed to 911," Veda noted.
As much as I wanted to watch whatever happened at the hotel, I focused on the conference room. All of Blue Cosmos' big leaders, aids, and some family were present. I only needed to wait five minutes before one of them got a call. He turned away from the table and raised a phone to his ear.
"Aisha. That guy."
"On it."
She hoped down from her perch and navigated around the room.
The man got up before she arrived, and moved toward the head of the table.
He went straight to Azrael. I was not surprised. Something about him always rubbed me the wrong way, similar to how Calvert always rubbed me the wrong way. I decided to listen to my gut this time and assume the man was shady until proven otherwise.
"Lafter, deploy with Queen and Exia in five more minutes."
"Already dressed and ready."
"Sonic is responding to the smoke," Veda added.
I nodded and checked over the answers Dinah provided. Mostly the same as before. There were a few that ended in Spitfire or Newter's capture, but only one each. Possibilities suggested a clean getaway. A single capture wouldn't be the end of the world, though. Faultline was right when she suggested it would be best for us to treat our staged fight as seriously as possible, lest thinkers notice something off in it.
Aisha made it to Azrael as the guy with the phone whispered in his ear.
"—line, mercenary out of Brockton Bay."
"Curious," Azrael replied. "Mockelburg?"
"Pressed his panic button."
Azrael looked to the table. Several people had noticed the rather conspicuous whispering going on. The pretty man kept a straight face through the staring, waving one hand at the girl giving the opening speech.
"Inform the authorities and text Dermail."
Dermail. I smiled. "Veda?"
"Duke Dermail," she answered. "Name, not title. He owns an Italian based shipping company associated with Beretta."
Guns. "Hack that guy's phone. I want to know where that text goes and who Dermail talks to after getting it."
Aisha reached over and took the device from the man's hand.
What? "Aisha—"
"Wait."
Wait for what?
The man got a confused look for a second, and then continued talking to Azrael. "What about Phantom Pain? We could—"
"No," Azrael snapped. The sudden harshness drew a few looks his way, but he didn't break his relaxed smile. "It's too soon. Just warn Dermail. We'll cut Duncan loose if necessary."
The man noted and reached for his pocket. He clearly didn't find what he was looking for, namely his phone. He got an even more confused look on his face as he glanced around. Aisha slipped the phone back into his pocket while he did, and he seemed to notice it after a few seconds.
Well, that's interesting.
An older woman leaned forward over the table. "Something wrong?"
"A minor security concern," Muruta said calmly. "Please. Continue. If the situation warrants discussion, we can do so once it is resolved."
I noticed a few different reactions across the room.
Confusion, of course. I would expect he'd eagerly discuss the potential PR points to come from a group of capes kidnapping one of their members. Fear too, especially among some of the older persons present, though I couldn't tell what scared them. That something was happening outside, or that Azrael wasn't telling them what. That came with a few suspicious looks too, including one from Dean.
It was… Nice to see that?
I tended to think of Blue Cosmos as one big happy band of bigots, with Dean and a few others as pleasant exceptions. The reactions in the room though, including the woman pressing Azrael about what was happening, drew attention to the divisions among those present.
Some of them seemed to outright hate Azrael's presence, shooting him nasty glares and whispering to each other while watching him. Others reacted to that defensively.
"Why would they mention Phantom Pain?" Aisha stepped back as the man turned away from Azrael and moved toward the corner of the room. "Isn't that where Teacher spoiled everyone's private shit?"
"It's a forum used by 'survivors of cape violence' hosted by Blue Cosmos," I said. She asked a good question, actually. "Why would he bring up Phantom Pain?"
"That's what I'm asking."
I thought for a moment. "Dinah, can you do a dive?"
"I can try."
That wasn't a no, but I knew how it hurt her to linger in her visions. Watching them move around her was something she could do, but it strained her more than just letting them drift by naturally. Mentioning Phantom Pain in this context though… That just seemed so weird. Why bring up a web forum where people griped about capes? And what was too soon?
"If Newtype were to call Muruta Azrael and ask about Phantom Pain, what happens?"
Aisha followed the man into the corner of the room and watched as he typed at his phone.
"What is that?" I asked. "I can't make it out from the feed."
"'Bad situation,'" Aisha read. "'Mockelburg in trouble. Thinking of Jared.' Who the fuck is Jared?"
"Jared Templeton," Veda answered. "A member of Blue Cosmos kidnapped by the Fallen in 2008. Blue Cosmos refused to pay any ransom demands and he was killed a week later when a Protectorate team failed to rescue him."
I remembered that. It caused serious heat to fall down on the Fallen. Practically wiped them out save for a small group in the South led by Mama M-something.
The references made more sense in context.
I'd seen them in several emails and server communications I'd already looked through. Clever. Ciphers and encryption would be child's play for a thinker or a tinker. Throw in masters and strangers, and you probably couldn't trust go betweens entirely either. Blue Cosmos was being properly paranoid—unfortunately—and using mnemonic codes. Key words and phrases that would only make sense to the people using them, and were too vague to be useful without proper context.
In context though, "They're warning Dermail that Mockelburg is being kidnapped and might die."
"They don't seem very worried," Aisha sneered.
"Please," Azrael continued off screen behind her. "Continue."
The woman really, really, didn't like that.
"Who is she?" I asked.
"Cecily Fairchild," Veda answered.
"What's her general reputation?"
"She was a close ally of Samuel Stansfield."
I could tell just by the look she shot Azrael's way.
"Faultline was right," I mumbled. "Mockelburg isn't the one in charge. Azrael is calling the shots here. Whatever Mockelburg is doing, he's the one in charge."
Nice to have a definitive answer for once, though it didn't tell me nearly as much as I'd hoped.
I already knew Teacher and Blue Cosmos were walking hand-in-hand toward something, and I'd already used Dinah's power on a few of their leaders and found them to be pets. Some of them were in the room right now. Knowing that, learning that they were stockpiling arms just wasn't that surprising… But Azrael being the one at the top?
He wasn't a pet. I checked.
Was it possible he was Teacher? I'd never really thought about that before. Just because his pets couldn't be seen with precognition didn't mean he couldn't. The thought that Azrael was Teacher all along came off as rather appealing, but only because I already disliked him. Couldn't let myself get distracted so easily.
"Done," Dinah announced. She sounded short of breath. "I got five."
Veda linked me to White's eyes so I could read the sheet directly.
"Azrael leaves the room and starts talking," I said aloud. Dinah wrote a few words she thought he said but they didn't tell me much. If only she could hear in her power and not just see. "Azrael hangs up immediately and turns to a man with long blond hair." I checked Aisha's feed. Probably the same guy texting Dermail. "Says the word go?"
I stopped there.
"I'm good," Dinah said. "Ask."
"Aisha, I need that guy's name. Veda, send Dinah a picture of him."
Aisha moved around him. "Says his name is Rey Charles… I think that name is fake."
"Searching," Veda said.
Lafter cut in, "Not to interrupt, but I'm already halfway there."
Already? "It'll do for now. Dinah. When Muruta Azrael looks at Rey Charles after Newtype calls him and asks about Phantom Pain, what happens?"
I started reading the other three possibilities Dinah wrote down. In two, he talked to me, calm. In another he talked to me angry. Dinah pulled a few words from his lips. A few lines off the former possibilities.
To what do I—pleasure—esteemed heroine?—Pain? No.—Forum.
He started getting agitated as the conversation went on. It ended a lot like the second possibility, where he hung up and looked to 'Rey Charles' and told him 'go.' In the fifth possibility, where he spoke with me angrily from the start, Dinah watched him long enough for him to hang up, say go, and then turned to the room and start talking.
Options short.—Hard choices ahead—best of bad situation. I didn't think the choppy language was what he actually said, but Dinah was trying to get as much as she could while her power strained her. Our own hands.
Our own hands? As in take matters into our own hands?
"Veda, is there anything about whatever initiative Azrael is announcing? The one Morrison and Londo were talking about."
"I believe Rey Charles is a false name," she revealed. "I can find no one with it who matches the given description. On the matter of Muruta Azrael's commission, I have found no details in the Hartford servers. Azrael is scheduled to speak during the leadership conference next week. It is titled 'An Initiate for a Pure Blue World'"—what a predictably lame name—"but there are no details. This is true of several events on the public and private programs."
"Anything on Operation British?" It can't be happening this soon, can it?
"There is an archive at the highest level, but I am having trouble penetrating the last layers of security."
My back straightened. "You're being thwarted?"
"I would not say that. I am being…slowed down. The firewalls in place are much more robust than those I've previously slipped through."
That… Didn't make sense. Veda's processors had expanded greatly in the past few weeks. I'd gotten her maybe a third of the way to where she'd been when she managed to fight off Leviathan. That was tens of thousands of personal computers in processing power, plus a few supercomputers. Beyond that, she had tinker-developed tools for getting past security.
And Blue Cosmos' server firewalls were actually slowing her down?
Dinah wheezed. "Taylor."
"Dinah? Are you—"
"Bad."
Bad? Dinah pushed a page in front of white. Only one possibility. She never saw just one… had she burned all her stamina and energy watching the same one?
I started reading the three full paragraphs she'd written. Then I read them again. And again.
"Hey, something going on over here."
I raised my head at Aisha's voice. "What?"
On her camera feed, most of the men and women in the room were looking outside as three green streaks cut through air.
"Lafter."
"I'm here," she said. "Should I…"
"Follow Exia in," Veda ordered. "Faultline is already engaged with police and Sonic."
I checked the page in front of White again and cursed.
It made my stomach turn, and not just because the bigots had the gall to be more than simple hypocrites.
"We need to—"
"Newtype."
I paused at the sound of my name. Looking back at the screen, Aisha had found her way to the corner of the room. She stood on something that let her look over many people and down on the table, where everyone was looking at Dean's father.
The man had a stupid smile on his face.
"We can proceed with the class action as planned," he declared. "Newtype is out of the way and her friend as well."
Class action?
"All the paperwork is arranged," someone across the table revealed. A man in a nice suit. Looked like a lawyer. "We're prepared to file in multiple districts."
"We should have something prepared for next week," Azrael said. "A prelude to go along with the filings. My team can prepare a PR blitz for the day after."
"Did he say multiple districts?" I asked.
"Yup," Aisha responded.
Stupid.
If Sophia went off the reservation, surely there were others. The Wards program had thousands of members across the US. Every state probably had one or two who went too far. Dredging up Madison and the rest of the bitches in Brockton Bay to point all blame at Sophia was just part one of an all out assault in the courts.
My fist tightened in my lap thinking about it.
Bright side, I probably wouldn't see Madison, Victoria, or Emma on TV talking about how it wasn't really their fault they all tortured me. Downside, the PRT and Protectorate faced a pending evisceration in the court of public opinion. As cathartic as that might be, it would stop being so enjoyable when people started suffering for it. The PRT was necessary. The organization kept the world turning while Endbringers and Teacher worked to tear it apart.
I wasn't in a position to replace them yet, and wouldn't be for a long time.
"Taylor," Lafter called. "I think Faultline is getting ready to run."
On Red's cameras, I could just make out the fight in the street. Black smoke billowed and wisped. Sonic threw sound waves behind herself, throwing her body into the air. Spitfire shot flames at the ground between them and the heroine threw a hand out—reminded me of Bakuda's rocket boots and gloves—and changed directions. Gregor shot a stream of goop toward her, but she threw her feet forward and moved again.
Fangs shot past her and fired. Gregor turned his power on the ground in front of him. The foam absorbed the beams, and when one Fang cut through the makeshift wall the man had already retreated into Grue's power.
I didn't see the limo or Mockelburg, which meant Faultline was somewhere in the haze interrogating the man.
"It's time to go." I closed the laptop and rose from my seat. Green jumped away and above Red rolled back from the rooftop. "Imp."
"I'll hang around a bit," she said. "Not like anyone can see me. Bet you this Azrael guy is gonna go talking to someone about something."
"Be careful."
"I know."
"And you still have to do your homework."
"You're a real buzzkill, you know that?"
"Total buzzkill," Black chirped.
"Do your homework," Veda and I said together.
I handed the laptop off to Green. He took it and started down a hallway leading to a set of stairs leading to a door.
I watched the feed of the fight outside, which I could almost hear as I approached the door. Queen fired at Gregor as he shot some kind of foam from his hands, one pointed at Queen and the other at Sonic. Sonic threw both legs forward, a wave of air cracking in front of her and throwing Newter back into Grue's cloud. Gregor retreated, and the ground began to crack and shake.
Faultline's power.
The asphalt exploded up and then began to collapse back down, crumbling into a cavernous space below.
The city sewers. Clever. Queen fired into the black mist with the Fangs, and as Exia and Kyrios both tried to surround Spitfire, she sprayed her flames into the air.
"I really hope you don't make out with anyone that way," Lafter said aloud.
"Or kiss her mother." Hearing my voice come from Exia when I knew I wasn't in it was weird, but it sold the illusion.
As far as anyone knew, I'd been in Brockton Bay when word came of Grue appearing in Hartford. I hopped into my suit and went after him, hoping to catch one of the Undersiders who attacked the PRT and escaped. No one would have any reason to think I'd been around longer, all my attention focused on something else entirely. Even if Blue Cosmos caught onto Aisha's presence, they'd chalk it up to Faultline. Grue was her brother.
I waited, watching as Sonic pulled herself back onto her feet.
She turned to Queen. "Are they going underground?"
"No," Veda answered. She pointed. "I suspect they know your power is more effective in confined areas."
The girl tilted her head. "You know how my power works?"
"You have described it on several occasions."
"Yeah but… I'm me?"
"Over here!" Lafter called.
She started flying down the street as Grue's power withdrew. The mist pulled back, revealing a torn and collapsed street with a limo and two other cars sunken in the rubble. Mockelburg was cowering off to the side, three men and a cop encased in greenish looking foam. Gregor's power. I'd heard he could make something similar to containment foam with it.
None of them looked too hurt, but Mockelburg was visibly shaking in Queen's rear cameras.
Sonic kicked off the front and followed my suits as they chased Grue's smoke.
I inhaled and pulled the door open. I stepped into the black cloud and quietly waited.
Grue's power felt weird. Thick, almost like being underwater in a way. I couldn't hear or smell, or see obviously. It almost felt like being in a void, except I still felt the ground under my feet and the pull of gravity.
I found the experience a little disorienting, especially when it seemed to cause my headache to come roaring back.
A hand had just started rising for my head when I felt something bump into me from behind. I relaxed my body and fell into Exia. The hatch closed around me and the feeling of Grue's power quickly faded back into the normal confines of my suit.
I grabbed the controls and pulled, throwing myself up and out of the cloud. I twisted the suit around in the air, turning the head left and right. "Where?"
Kyrios pulled up a little ahead of me, glancing around as the mist seemed to go off in several different directions.
Sonic landed on the roof behind me, and Red rolled back around a corner to hide from her. "Where'd they go?"
I looked back and forth, trying to figure how they actually did it. Out on the road, Grue's power continued south and then went east, but it also seemed to be spreading west and northwest at the same time, running through streets and roads.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
Sonic ran over to a roof edge and looked down into the black void below. "You have a precog, right?"
Outside the mist, I heard sirens and cries. I spent as much time looking for injuries as I did Faultline.
"Forecast's power is burned out for the day."
"I don't see them," Lafter stated. Kyrios drifted back and forth quickly. "Like, really. They're gone. How are they gone?"
"Smoke grenades." Queen rose from the cloud below me, a canister in her hand. "Grue's power must linger long enough to be contained and released later."
Huh, that's actually clever.
Looking around, I'd guess a dozen or so canisters the size of the one in Queen's hand would work. Set them up beforehand and release his power in multiple directions, confuse any pursuers. Probably had a vehicle set up somewhere to drive off with. By the time anyone realized where, they'd be gone.
Slowly, I pulled Exia back and turned around toward the hotel.
A message flashed on my HUD.
MisFits: we're out
MisFits? Less clever, but it works.
Kyrios continued drifting about looking, while Queen followed me. I didn't see anyone with major injuries. No one buried in the rubble or trapped in the cars that were. Faultline's reputation was that she avoided causing needless injuries. That put me more at ease with the whole 'planning a fake kidnapping' thing.
Sonic landed on the ground below me and did her own look around.
"So… You got here pretty fast."
She wore a blue and white costume, homemade but well done. A diving suit with boots and gloves, plus a blue and white jacket with a spiral logo on the back. Her mask consisted of headphones over her ears and a dark visor, her black hair tied back in a braid.
"Fast suits," I responded easily. I turned toward Mockelburg and began descending.
Sonic followed. "I'm Sonic but I guess you know that. I said that already. Sorry. I'm kind of a fan."
"Thanks?"
I paused as Exia's feet touched the ground. Had anyone ever walked up to me and said they were my fan before? No. No they hadn't. Oddly flattering, and kind of disgusting because in this instance I'm not sure I deserved it.
The whole crime of the day was at least half my doing.
Turning my attention to that, I looked down at Mockelburg.
Faultline had her shot at interrogation.
Now I'd take mine, with Dinah's one detailed possibility still fresh in my mind.
Men and women with guns in a street, fighting with capes. Dinah didn't recognize any of them, but she described the costumes as mostly being body suits with bright colors, logos on the chests and shoulders, and mostly open mouth masks and helmets. That sounded like the Protectorate to me. The gunmen were wearing body armor and headsets, and there were people in suits walking among them.
I didn't know how that fit in with Phantom Pain, but I could guess where the damn guns were going.
Blue Cosmos was planning to wage an actual fucking war in the streets, against the Protectorate. It sounded like something off the Phantom Pain forums, actually. A fantasy for tough guys and nuts who had clearly never faced a cape in their lives. If Dinah saw it though, it was possible and that's what happened if Azrael told that guy to 'go?"
All of that was bad enough, but the worst part were the people in suits walking with the gunmen.
One held their hand up and Dinah described how beams of light shot from their palm.
There are capes working with Blue Cosmos?
