Interlude - Antares

Vicky knew her mother could be judgmental. In some ways, she took after her a bit. With the exception of Amy, Vicky often felt that she operated on a similar wavelength to her mother. They rarely fought and she'd never felt much desire to 'rebel' in any clichéd fashion

Somehow, that left her completely unprepared to be in a screaming match with the woman.

"Go to your room!"

"What? Why?!"

"Act like a child, get treated like a child!"

"How am I acting like a child? I only said she has a point! If the PRT weren't so draconian, maybe—"

"We'll talk about this in the morning! Room!"

"I'm not ten! I'm almost eighteen!"

"Almost isn't eighteen yet!"

"How is that the point?!"

"The point—Victoria—is that you're still a child and you don't get to abandon your family on a whim!"

"I'm not abandoning my family!"

It didn't make sense. How the hell did it get like this? Why were they screaming? Her father being present just made it all worse. He wasn't having a good day, and he wore his confusion on his face as the words went back and forth.

"You're being childish," her mother snarled.

"I'm being childish?! Jesus Christ, Mom, what do you think is going to happen at the end of the school year?! I'm not living in this house forever!"

"But while you do, you do as I say!"

"Because that's so mature!"

Eventually, Vicky did go to her room.

Mostly because it got her away from her mother and ended the screaming.

She floated, back to the door. The conversation replayed in her mind on a loop. She didn't get it. What set her mother off like that, and why did she just shout back at her? The lack of accountability in the PRT and Protectorate was why New Wave existed, right?

Fuck, look at what happened to Taylor. It was no wonder she'd sympathize with someone like Bakuda. Not that Vicky thought the villain should get off free for the stuff that happened after—her bombs hurt a lot of people—but the fact the PRT basically drove her into Lung's arms should count for something.

Two wrongs don't make a right… So why was the only question in her mind why am I still here?

What was there to stay in Brockton Bay for?

New Wave had nothing to do. None of the adults wanted to move or be involved in anything elsewhere. Crystal didn't know what she wanted from her life, but it wasn't a life of heroism. Eric cared more about girls than anything. Even when he grew out of that phase—in maybe twenty years—then what?

New Wave had no legacy for any of them to inherit. The team existed in name only… And suddenly Vicky found herself wondering if her family only existed in name only too.

She needed some air.

Grabbing a jacket from her closet and pulling it on, Vicky pulled her window open and flew out of it.

"Going out, huh?"

She froze, spinning about.

Amy sat in her own window, legs dangling over the side and smoke blowing out into the evening air.

Vicky stuttered, then stomped her foot on the floor that wasn't beneath her. "Where do you keep finding cigarettes?"

"It's not that hard," her sister replied. She looked back toward her room and the door across it. "You told Carol you want to leave New Wave, didn't you?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you made it obvious you're thinking about it."

"No! I said nothing like that! All I said was that Taylor has a point and maybe the PRT should stop browbeating capes into joining because they did something bad when they triggered!"

Amy gave her a deadpan glare. "It's literally written on your face, Vicky."

"You're using 'literally' wrong."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Amy blew a raspberry at her. Quite the feat with a cigarette in her mouth. Must come with practice.

Vicky floated up and over, settling herself just above the window on the roof.

"You're leaving," Amy said.

"I told you I'm not."

"Yeah. You are."

Vicky frowned. She wanted to retort, but, "It's not like that."

"Mark knows. Aunt Sarah and Uncle Neil will know. Carol never will."

That… Vicky couldn't put it into words. She loved her mother but something was never quite right with her. She was so defensive all the time. Always on the lookout. Like every little thing was a potential threat.

She never noticed it when she was younger. She took her mother's defensiveness as caution. An experienced cape being smart about her life and the security of her children.

Then Vicky triggered and nothing changed.

Amy triggered and it got worse.

That's when Vicky really noticed for the first time how her mother treated Amy. Why Amy only ever called her 'Carol.' The woman who raised her treated her like a threat, like an outsider. Sometimes she hid it better than others but Vicky caught on.

"I know," Vicky admitted.

Step outside Carol Dallon's comfort zone, and you're not to be trusted anymore. Maybe the yelling shouldn't have surprised her. Vicky never thought anything would put her on the outside.

Her family wasn't perfect. Given the whole capes without masks thing, how could it be? She didn't think it was so fragile.

"I want to make a difference. I can't do that here."

Amy exhaled, puffing smoke into the air. Vicky gagged on the smell and wondered why she didn't sit herself to the left or right.

She drifted to the side and sat back down, and Amy said, "Probably can't. So do what you have to do."

"But what about—"

"Stop being so melodramatic. It's not like you're gonna disappear forever. It's fine. Do what you gotta do."

Easy to say. Hard to do.

Vicky didn't know what she believed. All this stuff about Cauldron. Blue Cosmos. Teacher. So much of it seemed unbelievable but… But Taylor.

Taylor kept secrets. Vicky wasn't dumb, blonde jokes aside. She'd been up to something with Dean for a while and it wasn't any sort of love affair. Taylor knew things. More than she told anyone. Maybe Façade's big reveals weren't really reveals to her.

Taylor wasn't evil. Maybe a little self-righteous, arrogant, and overconfident—little jealousy talking there, perhaps—but not evil. If Taylor kept secrets she kept them for good reason.

How much of what that girl said was true?

Alexandria and Rebecca Costa-Brown did look kind of alike. Similar builds. Hair. It wasn't impossible. The Case-53s were always a mystery. Human experiments fit as well as anything. Teacher…

"Protectorate?" Amy asked.

A few days ago the answer would have been yes, but now, "No. I don't think so."

Celestial Being had a romanticism to it, but if Vicky were to leave a small team, joining another didn't seem right. Her powers weren't a good fit anyway. Celestial Being's power came from Forecast's precognition, Taylor's planning, and the speed and power of the Gundams.

Vicky could match the power, but not the speed.

She'd have a limited role on Taylor's team. Nothing wrong with that. Dynamics are important and heroism was a profession, not a popularity contest. She tried not to let falling behind Lafter in the PHO polls sting too much.

"There are corporate teams," Amy suggested.

Vicky scoffed. "Vanity projects."

Solo wasn't an option. She'd basically been solo the past two years. There wasn't much a solo heroine could do, not where it counted.

"What about you?" Vicky leaned over and looked down at Amy. "You're not staying either."

"I think I'm gonna make a clinic. Terminal cases. People who can't be cured. Youngest comes first."

Vicky's brow raised. She sounded like she'd really thought about this. "How are you going to pay for it? Charity?"

"A few boob jobs here and there. Face lift. Some rich socialite wants me to give them a touch up, fine. Charge through the nose, spend a few seconds of my time, and use the money for something good."

Vicky's initial reaction was 'you can't charge people for healing them' and 'boob jobs are a waste of your power.' That was her mother talking. New Wave's philosophy. A dead philosophy that never took off.

"You're okay with that?"

"Yeah," Amy answered. "It'll be a living. Maybe pick up a few other capes who can heal here and there. Get a whole parahuman hospital going. Bet you I can sell the TV rights and double it as a sitcom. Title writes itself."

Vicky cracked a laugh.

"Gotcha," Amy quipped.

Vicky stifled her laughter and stuck her tongue out. Not that Amy could see it. Still.

She'd never call Amy a happy person. Amy didn't do happy. It was nice seeing the shift over the past couple of years though. Convincing her to go to therapy was the best thing Aunt Jess ever did, aside from being awesome.

Huh.

Maybe Fleur had room for a second act? Not hero work, but it probably paid better.

Vicky took a long breath and floated off the roof. "Well, I'm gonna take that fly. Be back in an hour. We can finish that thing for Ms. Raskin's class."

"Sure."

Turning to the sky, Vicky flew up at a slow and steady pace. Being a shaker might be nice, but nothing beat flying. High up, untethered from the world. That's true freedom. Or, as close as anything gets.

It's a good way to let the problems of the world fall away a bit.

She turned toward the hills southwest of home. Nice scenery in that direction. Tall trees. A few small parks. Brockton Bay might be getting nicer without the gangs, but it still wasn't very scenic.

Naturally, she couldn't just enjoy it.

The argument with her mother lingered, and then there was the real question.

What would she do? Hell, how would she brand herself? Glory Girl was a New Wave thing and really, the name was such a fifteen-year-old girl name. She'd need a new costume to go with a new name. Something less juvenile. The Protectorate could help with that. Their PR department and budget were huge. No real need to worry about that kind of thing with them.

Really, other than the Protectorate there weren't a whole lot of options.

Celestial Being fit her sensibilities but she didn't want to be a second stringer. Who did? Haven did good things but the religious stuff—Vicky wasn't opposed to religion or anything—seemed like a bit much. Corporate teams did too much PR and far too many had ties to the Elite.

Kind of weird when she really thought about it. Why weren't there more hero teams? The Protectorate was so big, it basically absorbed everything that didn't have something peculiar to set it apart.

Religion. Corporate interest. Ideology.

Something seemed off in that now. It didn't feel right—

Vicky stopped. Someone was waving to her. That wasn't unusual but she normally didn't get spotted at night.

And that little girl looked like…

Vicky landed quietly, brow cocked. "Dinah, right? You're the Mayor's niece." Triumph's cousin.

"That's me."

Looking around the park, nothing seemed out of place. "Should you be out here alone this late?"

"I pity the fool who tries anything on me in the middle of the night. Taylor will crack every bone in their body." Her eyes looked to the left. "And that's the least mean thing that would happen."

"Was that an A-Team referen—What about Taylor?

"Here." The girl pulled a pack from her back and fished around inside. "They're not that good, but maybe they'll help."

The girl pulled a stack of papers from the bag and held them out.

Vicky looked at them skeptically, until she noticed. "Is that supposed to be me?"

Huh. Duh. The girl was a fan. Guess she still had those, PHO polls be damned.

Vicky took the pages and smiled. "Not bad. I like the armor."

The girl got her costume completely wrong. She never dressed up as a knight. Well, the look wasn't bad. The picture had kind of a valkyrie thing going on. Vicky would totally be into that except for the Empire making anything German or Nordic seem like a bad idea.

Nazis ruin everything.

"Take a look," the girl said. "I should go before someone starts panicking. White can only be distracted by Tom and Jerry for so long."

Vicky watched her shoulder her pack and start walking. If she remembered right, Mayor Christner didn't live far from here and his sister's family moved in nearby. The girl couldn't be more than a few minutes from home.

Still though.

Vicky took off and flew high enough to follow without being conspicuous. Probably nothing, but if something happened she'd feel bad about it.

With one eye on the girl, the other started looking through fan art.

Dinah probably got her costume wrong on purpose. The first was a knightly sort of deal. The second wore a ludicrously large cape that almost made Vicky laugh. Power looked different too, if the rainbows coming from her hand were any sign.

What a weird kid.

The third page was striking.

Vicky stared at it. Her head was too big and the arms and legs too stubby but the costume…

Black and gold looked good. Maybe a bit more serious than she'd have thought but the armor had a knightly quality without looking medieval. Simple. Practical. Elegant. Hood over her head definitely didn't feel right but she wore it well.

"Huh… Nice."

She peeked over the pages to check on the girl.

"Thanks White."

"No problem, no problem."

Dinah stepped into her house while the Haro held the door open and Vicky's jaw dropped.

She felt about ready to go back home.

Wait.

Vicky looked at the pictures again. If Dinah Alcott was on Taylor's team, that meant she was Forecast, right? Well, she might be StarGazer but Vicky was pretty sure those theories that StarGazer didn't have a body were true. She sounded older but no one ever saw her and Dinah was the right height for Forecast.

That meant she saw the future. No, she saw multiple futures. That's how she explained her power during the Cranial thing. She could see all the things that could happen…

Raising the pictures, Vicky started looking at them again and wondering why Dinah gave them to her.

It's weird flying in place. The world can seem so small, even when you're not that high up. Hold in place long enough, squint at the distance, and sometimes it seems like it's turning beneath you.