A Waken 16.15

About the only thing cruel fate spared me appearance-wise was bad skin. My complexion might be too pale, but I rarely battled zits or blemishes. Light makeup usually worked fine.

I did not need an entire hour in a damn chair being handled and managed by stereotypes. In this case, an overly preppy blonde who I'd probably find friendly in other circumstances and an effeminate man who called me 'dearie.' He was entirely too young to be calling anyone dearie.

I'd never needed to do makeup for an interview before. Glaring my disapproval at Kati got me nothing. She was effectively ignoring me by talking to the producers.

"It's so much easier without the mask," Kristi giggled.

"I know," Charles agreed. "Don't get me wrong, dearie." He waved his hand at me, because apparently he wanted to hit all the beats. "I get the whole 'hide my face, protect my family thing', but let me tell you. It does not make my job any easier."

"But not this time," Kristi pointed out as she pushed something to my lips and started to rub it on.

Lip gloss. Consolation. Really?

"And your hair," Charles continued. "Just lovely, dearie. First time in ages I haven't had to do it for someone."

Okay, maybe Charles wasn't so bad. I just really wanted out of the damn chair.

"Almost done," Kristi assured me. Apparently, she could sense my discomfort.

I was past tired of staring into the mirror at my own face. My same old overly-big eyes and way-too-wide mouth. My skin looked even paler under the lights. Sour cream had more color to it. Negation. At least my hair was finally returning to a proper length, though it was still a pale shadow of its former glory.

Compliments from the stylist aside. Kristi at least found a way to make my eyes seem less big. She used eye shadow, but I was too ashamed to bother asking how she did it.

With all the time spent looking at myself though, I found myself wondering if I was not as ugly as I let myself believe. Which was basically what a lot of people had been telling me for a while. Not that I knew what to do with that possibility.

Date? Did the possibility I could date a boy really constitute anything? I didn't have a crush or anything. I mean, Orga was good-looking all things considered. Tall, broad shoulders, and from what I'd seen of his arms he was fit.

I liked those things, I supposed. As vain as I was about my own appearance, I didn't want to be one of those girls. The ones who hooked up with a guy just because he looked good. So it was a good thing that Orga was… My heart did pick up a bit thinking about him.

I wasn't sure what that meant either.

Confusion.

I blinked suddenly and winced as my head throbbed. My headaches had actually subsided in the past few days. Now I suffered occasional but sudden and intense jabs of pain that came and went.

Apology.

"All done, dearie."

Oh thank god. Agreement.

I jumped to my feet. My jacket went over my arms and my visor over my eyes. I kind of needed it now. My eyes kept doing the glowing thing on occasion. Controlling it didn't seem to be in the cards. Veda and I tinted the visor to hide the light completely.

I couldn't exactly have my eyes going all glowy on national television.

"Alright, get the next one on in here," Kristi called to someone behind us.

"Don't worry," Charles whispered, "we're on your side, honey."

"Thanks." I moved off, weaving my way through patches of people, equipment, and the mess of cables running along the floor.

My side. Way to incidentally hit the point. Affirmation.

I made my way to Kati, who finally deigned to notice me. Her eyes went up and down and she offered a soft nod. "You look good."

I took the compliment. "Thank you." The room was fairly loud as people went back and forth, but at this point secrecy wasn't that important. "Is everything ready?"

"I'm ready," she replied. "You're sure this is how you want to play it?"

I'd asked myself that plenty already. "Sorry for the challenge."

She scoffed. "It'll be worth it to see the look on that brat's face."

Her eyes stared intently over my shoulder, but I resisted the urge to look.

I'd changed.

It wasn't just that something physical was happening to me as a result of… Fuck if I knew. Overexposure? Lafter and Dinah had spent almost as much time around the GN Drives as I had and neither displayed any sign of the same brain alterations.

Doctor J and Defiant couldn't even locate my Coronas anymore. They were gone. That really only served as a capstone to a broader realization, though.

Warning. Not the point. Right.

I wasn't the same person I was when I started this. In some ways, I wasn't sure I wanted to even try to keep being that person. She'd been hard, and cruel when it suited her to be. She claimed to care about who got hurt, but I wasn't so sure. Looking back on myself, I felt like I spent a lot of time hiding my pain by inflicting it on others.

Maybe it was easier for that Taylor to pretend she cared when she didn't have to face people. When she shut herself off and only confronted the world on her own terms. That person hadn't been alive. She'd been hollow.

That description felt over-dramatic and maybe a bit harsh considering I was talking about myself. It's not like I'd changed at my core. It's the masks. The person I presented myself as being. I didn't like a few of those masks anymore.

I couldn't really deal with that right now though.

Going forward, I wanted to be less hard, less harsh. I wanted to be more open and more trusting. That was frightening for me, but I really wanted it. I want to really be the person I'd needed at that lowest point in my life, not the fantasy I'd have found cathartic.

"Ready?" Kati asked.

Her eyes were watching the left and I casually glanced that way. "As I'll ever be."

"Just stick to the lines and don't let him rile you up," she advised. "He's good at it."

"Let him try." I turned to face the approaching producer. "After tonight, he's not going to matter much anymore."

To emphasize how much I'd changed, I recognized that hypocrisy.

It felt like a betrayal in a way. All of this started for me because people decided I didn't matter. That I wasn't important. I could rationalize that some people really made their own choices and suffered nothing but the consequences of their own actions…but yeah. That was an easy out for anyone who wanted to ignore what they found inconvenient.

I'd changed too much to keep doing that unwarily.

Change would have to wait.

Right now, I needed to wear that harsh and hard mask one more time. There was a time for compassion, and there was a time for rage. A point had to be made. It wasn't just about me and my comfort.

"All ready?" the producer asked. He said it in a very business-like manner, one that said he didn't really care except insofar as it impacted his schedule.

"Yes," I answered.

The man nodded and looked at his tablet. "Alright. It's your first time on the show so we're going to bring you out first. It's tradition. We'll do a quick intro and a little talk and then we'll get to the main show. Right? Right."

Confirmation? Right.

Kati followed me as I followed him, heading over to the stage. It was a typical talk show setup. A desk and chair with a host, a small set of bleachers for an actual audience while the crew worked around them.

On the stage were three comfortable-looking seats arrayed alongside the desk and a single coffee table that curved with them. My eyes darted for a moment to the large screen behind the chairs. It displayed the show's logo, which also happened to be the host's name.

She was a woman in her early forties, short and a little round with a bit of a babyface. Her face was all smiles and she exuded a sort of genuine warmth that seemed a lot less fake in person.

She smiled to her audience, in the middle of saying something I'd been paying no mind to.

"And we'll come back to that," Meghan—yes with an 'h'—declared, "because we have a very special guest tonight and I am so excited! Please give a round of applause for Taylor Hebert!"

With a deep breath, I stepped before the applause and onto the stage. A lot of the noise came from speakers, but there was a small audience politely clapping. Their expressions were more curious than excited.

Stepping into the light, I immediately fell into the script Kati practiced with me.

I crossed the stage and forcibly assumed the mask I needed. I gave a small smile. Nervous of course, but determined. A small wave helped emphasize both as I stepped past the desk and took one of the chairs. The one in the middle, specifically. Not too close to the host, but not too far away.

I eased myself into the seat smoothly and sat in a relaxed repose.

Meghan retook her seat with a big smile I figured was probably sincere. "So first question," she charged, "Taylor Hebert, or Newtype?"

"You pick," I immediately answered. "They're both masks I wear."

That got a laugh, though Meghan quickly asked, "Then who is the real you?"

"Who is the real anyone?" The question was facetious, but, "We all wear the masks that make us comfortable. Hero. Student. TV personality."

Meghan smiled and nodded along. "I'd heard you could be the thinking type."

I forced back a reaction and insisted, "Just a tinker."

"A tinker who takes out villains like my husband takes out the trash." Laughter echoed around me. "Some rather big names being very recent on that list."

"To be fair"—I grinned—"Veda is the one that caught Kaiser."

She gave that a small laugh and shook her head. "Well, it's a pleasure to have you in the chair." She got a quizzical look, watching me as if doing so would answer some unasked question. "I was a bit surprised actually. It's very rare for capes to come onto a show like mine."

"Never take a risk that isn't needed," I replied.

She started to speak but stopped herself. It only lasted a moment, but I saw her trying to puzzle out what that meant. I felt a little guilty, especially given all the times I'd mentally cursed cryptic bullshit. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't here to go down in history as the nicest cape to ever show up on TV.

"Well I'm sure we can have quite the discussion about that," Meghan tried. "This is going to be a first for a lot of reasons and I think it's going to make a great show. We have one more guest tonight and"—he apparently didn't need an hour in the torture chair—"it's going to be tense."

She gave me a knowing and sympathetic nod, then turned her head.

"Muruta Azrael," she introduced.

Maybe he was just naturally pretty? He looked like a complete prick in a white suit but I guess he maybe didn't need as much chair time. Maybe he spent so much time on TV he coasted from one touchup to the next.

I was distracting myself from the snake waving to the audience. Sue me.

I had to admit he took to the stage better than I did. He walked with the fluidity of someone who'd been doing TV spots for years. Because he had. Fortunately, I'd been punching above my weight class for so long keeping my face straight wasn't hard.

And I had to agree with Kati. Seeing the look on his face when I was done was going to feel pretty great, conflicted feelings aside.

Azrael took his seat and gave me a venomous smile.

We both knew exactly what I'd done. Taking the middle seat was easy for me. For him, he had to choose which side of me he wanted to be on. Too far from the host, or too close. Still, he exuded excitement. Of course he did. The PRT and corporate teams knew better than to be in front of a camera with him.

"Well, Muruta," Meghan greeted. "If that is your real name."

"I'll never understand why people think it's not," he said in a sweet voice that would probably be charming if I didn't know better. "I'm sure if I had been born a girl, I'd be Shanaynaye or something. Parents will name their kids anything these days."

"Still harping at mommy and daddy?"

"I find it paints me in a sympathetic light."

Rejection. I resisted the urge to grimace. How anyone listened to this man for more than a few minutes without hating him I'd never know.

Meghan had a similar reaction I think. She hid it well with a small laugh and nod. "Well, we're going to be having some interesting talk tonight, I think. I don't believe you two have met."

Azrael turned his smile back to me. "No, we haven't. I must say you come with quite the impression, Ms. Hebert."

"So do you," I noted.

"But only one of you made the big headlines this week," Meghan noted. She looked at me, gawking and shaking her head. "The Slaughterhouse Nine. My…" She shook her head. "I've been reporting on that madness my entire career. I'd make a joke about you putting me out of a job but I'm not sure it would be remotely funny."

"That was more Veda and Forecast than me," I said honestly. "They wanted to ensure killing Mannequin never came back to haunt us."

"The way I hear it, a bunch of boys with no powers did them in."

For a moment, I felt all eyes on me. Not an unfamiliar sensation, but it seemed so much more intense in the moment. Meghan. Azrael. Kati. The audience. The crew. Everyone watching at home.

This show had millions of viewers on a typical night and this night wasn't typical. Everyone would be watching this, if not in the moment then online after we finished. Right then, the acute sense of being watched felt less like a tingle of knowing and more like a certainty of being.

Confirmation.

Good.

"Yes," I confirmed. "Most of the Nine were taken down by a group with no capes."

"Sounds like a movie deal waiting to happen." Meghan leaned in, lowering her voice but not low enough to be unheard. "Any inside info you can share?"

Azrael jumped in then, quipping, "A movie not about the unbridled heroism of capes. Whatever shall we do?"

"Well, this is going to be lively," Meghan observed. She had no idea. "I for one say good riddance. I don't think there's a person alive who hasn't experienced terror at some point in their lives because of the Nine."

"Yes," Azrael agreed. "It's enough to make one wonder what took so long."

"Probably too afraid of being lambasted for any setback to take any risks," I proposed.

"If they're afraid of criticism, they're in the wrong line of work." He got this really cocky smirk suddenly and folded his hands together. "Like you, for example. Differences of opinion aside, at least you don't run from reality."

I couldn't help but smile. "There's no point running from the inevitable." I don't think he noticed the look in my eye. The visor probably covered it up. "I killed Mannequin during the Dragon incident. Jack was never going to let that stand."

"How'd you do it?" Meghan asked.

"You'd have to ask Forecast," I suggested. "That was mostly her and Veda."

"You mentioned that before. Isn't Forecast the youngest member of your team?"

"She is."

"Does she make a habit of going up against the most dangerous criminals on Earth?"

I was worried about Dinah, but, "Capes don't get to live normal childhoods and she got her power even younger than I did. Fortunately, she's smarter than you'd expect for her age and Veda is smarter than I am."

"Well, you've certainly learned how to humbly pat yourself on the back," Azrael accused.

"You've been a great teacher."

I think the drawn-out 'oh' that echoed from the room was recorded. I hoped it was recorded. Agreement.

Meghan quickly rounded back. "How did Forecast and Veda do what no one has done before?"

"They cheated," I stated bluntly.

"Cheated?" Meghan asked.

"Cheated."

Even Azrael seemed interested and the offstage audience was leaning forward with interest. Time for the show. Caution. Yeah, as tempting as it was to just go into the point, the groundwork needed to be laid.

"Jack Slash was telepathic," I revealed.

That got a few gawks.

"The PRT and researchers have always insisted that telepathy was impossible," Meghan pointed out.

"They were wrong," I told her. "To be fair, Forecast doesn't think Jack was aware of it. He simply seemed to always be aware on some level what was happening around him. What other capes intended to do. It's a hallmark of a thinker. Knowing things he can't possibly know. Jack probably wrote it off as luck or instinct." Probably what everyone who went against him did too.

"That would explain why every attempt to stop the Nine failed," Meghan agreed.

"It also explains why he was so good at breaking good people," I elaborated. Azrael gave a look of disbelief and I glanced at him. "Jack always knew what to say to get the reaction he wanted. It's probably how he kept a group like the Nine together for so long."

And that's why Dinah kept me away from him.

The past week had been a sort of mini-hell for me. I'd been figuring some things out. Insert someone like Jack Slash with a power like the one Dinah and Veda elaborated… I liked to think I could have endured that. I hadn't come this far just to be undone by one murderous sociopath. Then again, I'd bet a lot of capes thought that going into confrontations with him.

I'd never know now.

Maybe it was better that way. Uncertainty. It was done now. Settlement.

It wasn't the current point.

The current point was that I'd just subtly looked at Muruta Azrael while talking about the kind of person Jack Slash was.

"Can you spill the details on how it was done?" Meghan asked. "You have a reputation for daring. Has it rubbed off?"

She had no fucking idea. "I think I might have created my own kind of monster." That got a few laughs, and after letting the chuckles roll I explained, "The plan was not knowing the plan."

"Do tell," Azrael quipped. I think I hated him more when he was faking being friendly.

"Forecast created a plan that would be a threat but probably wouldn't work. Then she told a third party everything she planned to do and walked away." I let the audience stew in confusion, letting the gears turn for a moment. "She counted on them to plan around her plan and jump in."

"So…" Meghan tapped her desk. "So, Jack Slash was focused on her and what she was doing. He missed this other group with their own plan and they managed to ambush the Nine?"

"The only problem was the Siberian," I revealed. "Siberian was a very powerful cape, and a bunch of people with no powers and some tinker-tech didn't have a means to deal with her. But Forecast learned she was a projection created by a master. Bakuda and Defiant forced the Siberian to be reconstituted, and that gave away the master's position."

"And once the Siberian"—Meghan caught herself—"the master creating the Siberian died, this party cleaned their clocks?"

"More or less. The only member of the Nine they couldn't kill was Crawler, and in that case they elected to bury him in a block of concrete. To my knowledge, he's still in there."

"Reportedly, you killed Bonesaw yourself."

It's a good thing I was becoming a very good liar. "Yeah." I brought my voice down a bit. "I killed her. Veda managed to round up a bunch of people infected with one of her plagues. Unfortunately, Bonesaw made so many we missed one… I wasn't fast enough to stop her."

Everyone was glossing over that, reveling in the reality that the Nine were no more. They'd ended so suddenly and in such an unconventional fashion. No one would have expected a bunch of boys without powers to kill more than half of them, and to have detained another.

In all the revelry, the death of Mrs. Knott and the two protesters became a footnote.

Even Azrael put off bringing it up.

"You sound sad about it," Azrael observed.

"She wasn't any older than Forecast."

"She was a serial killer."

Technically she wasn't but semantics were rarely convincing. "She was a little girl twisted into something else by a psychopath." I nodded for effect more than anything. "Maybe if the culture around capes were different, someone might have saved her."

That got me curious looks. Newtype wasn't exactly known as a compassionate figure. I liked to think I could be but it definitely wasn't part of the image I'd put forward. One of the things I wanted to change.

"In that way," I began, "you're not entirely wrong." I glanced at Azrael. "The culture around capes is broken."

Azrael started to open his mouth but the planned retort died in the face of what I actually said.

Meghan hid her shock well. So did Azrael, once he recovered. The entire studio went oddly quiet. Almost silent. Other than the sound of breathing and whispering in the distance, there was nothing.

I knew how this song and dance went. Retrospectively, Muruta Azrael was not a particularly intelligent man. He wasn't an idiot by any means, but he wasn't clever. He knew how to work this kind of space. To put people in places where he could badger them faster than they could explain what an idiot he was.

That was his game.

Now, we were going to play mine.

"I do have to wonder how Jack's real power was never noticed. Or the Siberian for that matter. That's the kind of detail I'd expect thinkers to have picked up on."

Azrael's pleasant smile turned into a grin. "My, you do make things interesting."

"It's a curse." Quietly, I offered an apology to Chevalier. "I'm honestly baffled how no one figured it out. Forecast's power is very flexible and Veda can do things no human can do, but Jack's been running around for twenty years." I glanced at Azrael. "Someone should have noticed before we came along."

I had ideas about why no one had.

"It is absurd that the PRT and Protectorate expect special treatment but aren't even competent in their self-appointed role." Azrael closed his eyes and shrugged. "It's remarkable."

He wanted to bait me. "It's just not good enough anymore."

"Could you elaborate?" Meghan asked.

"The PRT and the Protectorate are peacekeepers," I answered.

"One could call them peace exploiters," Azrael proposed, no doubt hoping to shift the conversation into the realm of angry bullshit that doesn't make sense.

I cut that off with a question of my own. "What is essential to any society's prosperity?"

"Equality," he answered.

"Important, especially for a free society, but plenty of societies have existed without equality." I leaned into my hand, saying, "What is essential is stability. Order. Peace. Without those in some form, nothing else really matters. Everyone's too busy scrambling to make it through the day to care about anything else."

"Sounds like an easy path to authoritarianism." He really was desperate.

"How do you maintain order in a world where any random bar fight can produce a person launching thermonuclear blasts from their hands?" I asked. "A world where the pressures that might cause someone to have a mental breakdown, instead produce a flying tank who still mentally breaks down? Where a school prank can create a super genius with a mountain of trust issues?"

Azrael started to respond. I didn't let him.

"The answer is very simple," I interjected. "You can't. Not with the same systems that worked before. We've been living in a world with one foot in the past and one in the present since Scion first appeared. The only reason we could pretend otherwise is because of the PRT and the Protectorate."

"You sounded critical of them before," Meghan said quickly while Azrael looked at me with a new expression.

"I am critical of them," I replied. "But I'm not irrational. The PRT and the Protectorate did the things they had to do. They responded to the realities. Contain those capes too far gone and too powerful. Enforced detentes with those who wanted to abuse their power. Strict information control. Turning capes into heroes to be looked up to and casting the rest as villains. The unwritten rules."

Around me, the room was still quiet.

"It gave us the chance to go on with our lives and pretend that the world was weird but still the world we knew. We could be a little less afraid. Safe."

"Maybe it's safe for people like you," Azrael began, "but—"

"I've almost been killed four times in less than a year. I'm everything but safe."

He started to open his mouth.

I ran right over him.

"And before you shove words into my mouth, I know those attempts would have worked if I were powerless. It's not an insight. Having powers is the only reason I'm such a frequent flier on danger airlines. Most people could go through their lives and have capes be nothing but a threat in their periphery. That was because of the PRT and the Protectorate prioritizing order over all else."

"I think you'll find many people don't feel that way," Azrael teased.

He said it like he'd caught me in something. But, "They'd be right."

He started again. I admit, I was having fun jerking his expectations around.

"I did say we were pretending that the world was still safe. Deep down we all know it's not, but ignorance is bliss or however the saying goes."

There was this flash of eager anger on Azrael's face, and he asked, "You think the PRT did the world a favor by lying to us all?"

"I think denial is part of grieving."

My fingers tapped the arm of my chair. We knew a lot about grieving. Agreement. A fair bit about denial too. Agreement.

I still felt the weight of the cameras on me. All those eyes. People I'd never met and probably would never meet, all watching. Judging. Some probably thought I was a moron.

Azrael had maintained his composure since the show started, and he still was. I could see the gears turning though. The slow realization that this conversation wasn't going to go the way he wanted or expected. The wiggle of stretching his brain to try and figure out how to respond.

Let him.

I took the moment to collect myself.

Moments like this were hard. There was so much to say. So much that maybe should be said. The world moved too fast for talk, though.

As much resentment and bitterness as I held, experience won out over emotion. The PRT and the Protectorate had been necessary. The compromises they made were compromises that needed to be made. If the world had simply fell apart then, we might not have had the chance to rebuild ourselves as we had now.

Emphasis on now and right now I knew what needed to be said.

"I think healing takes time. We chose to ignore how bad things really were, because the reality was terrifying. The PRT let us do that. We needed that time to come to terms."

"I get the sense there's a point you've been building to," Meghan said. She'd folded her hands together a bit back and settled into watching Azrael and I talk.

"Not really." I glanced toward the audience, looking them over and measuring their reactions. "It's just what it is. We've had our time to adjust, and now people are acting. Me and my proactive approach to heroing. Blue Cosmos' protests. Teacher." I looked pointedly away from Azrael. "Phantom Pain."

"I've been saying much the same for years," Azrael got out.

He wasn't dumb enough to play into the subtle accusation I'd made. That would be hoping for too much. "The veil's lifted. The Protectorate and the PRT can't protect us from reality anymore. The world's been changing since the first parahuman. We can't go back to how things were."

"I see the stories of your articulate nature are not unfounded."

"Thank you."

Azrael sat back and crossed his legs in front of him. "I agree." He spoke with confidence. He thought he'd found his footing. "It says too much that someone like you is risking her life against an unending tide."

Insistence. "Someone like me?"

"A girl your age? Fighting murderers and monsters shouldn't be your job. Those who came before you have profoundly poisoned the well. Sometimes even your best efforts aren't good enough."

"You're referring to the deaths at the Brockton Bay Municipal Courthouse?" Meghan asked.

"Yes." Azrael looked at me intently. "The protestors should have listened to you. You tried to warn them, but there are so many reasons to distrust capes."

False rationality. "They seemed perfectly happy to be angry."

"Their anger is well-founded, and in this case tragic." Woe be the Blue Cosmos protestor, apparently. Rejection. No need to mention that Blue Cosmos created that mentality. "This is why we need to hold the PRT and the Protectorate responsible for their failures."

"How so?" I asked.

"New regulations," he suggested. "Investigations. You know how they manage troublesome capes from your own experiences."

"They have made mistakes," I agreed. "The laws forbidding capes from participating in the economy with their powers for example."

Azrael kept his face even. "A fair market is a free market."

"The laws basically create villains. It's how the Elite were born and why they've continued to endure. There's no shortage of people who don't want to be heroes but can't make a living with what they have. So they turn to crime."

"There is no excuse for taking advantage of victims," Azrael charged.

"You do like your victims," I acknowledged to another drawn-out 'oh.' "Brockton Bay is filled with people who had no choice but to work with the gangs. People who can't get by legally will take note of ways to do so illegally. Capes are no different. Parahuman crime is a market problem. Public policy is forcing a choice between being heroes or being villains. Options for being neither are limited."

"While we've danced around the name…" Meghan spoke with a cautious tone, looking at me as if trying to predict my reaction. "You're referring to someone like Bakuda?"

"Yes and no. Bakuda did something very wrong in the moment and was sucked into things because the PRT wanted to strong-arm her despite knowing full well how trigger events work."

"She broke the law," Azrael charged.

"She almost broke the law," I pointed out. "She was stopped and never actually did anything until Lung got his hands on her."

"That's not an excuse."

"No," I agreed. "It's just how it is. It's what happened, and what will keep happening until something changes."

Azrael studied me. Despite the smile and relaxed shoulders, and not being as smart as he thought he was, he had to realize I was angling for something by now.

I took his hesitation as an opportunity and turned my attention to Meghan. "We had our chance to pretend. Now we have to start dealing, or the cycle of uncontrolled violence will simply persist. Worse, it'll escalate. Phantom Pain is just the beginning."

At that, Azrael shifted ever so subtly. It was his hand. A slight clenching in the fingers. I doubted the audience or the camera could see it, but I could. If you can't hide your tells or body language, shift it to react in a way no one will notice.

Kati taught me that trick too.

"I agree," Azrael began. "Until something is done about the power capes hold in society, nothing will change."

"Power imbalances drive conflict." I kept my face straight. "The previous generation of heroes were never in a position to truly redress it."

"Agree to disagree."

"Going forward, it'll likely be up to the rest of us to make the right changes, using the little stability that was bought for us."

"It would be a shame to pass these struggles on to another generation,"

"It's amazing what can be accomplished when people just sit down and talk."

"Yes." He grinned. Like an idiot. "How would you propose we start?"

"I don't know."

He didn't look surprised. Meghan did though, and asked, "You're considered something of an ideas cape."

"I don't have all the answers." Dinah's recent post-Slaughterhouse Nine slaughter speech came to my mind. "No one person can save the whole world. It's too big. Even if someone had that kind of power, I don't think they should. The world belongs to all of us. We can't dictate its fate to each other."

Meghan had a flash and blurted out, "That sounds a lot like Relena Peacecraft. Do Ms. Peacecraft and you talk? You did save her life from an assassination attempt earlier this year."

I looked Azrael dead in the eye, wondering if he'd really noticed or not. "A bit. We're similar girls with similar goals."

"She's currently making a big push to lobby against the Parahuman Registration Act in the European Union"—there was a flash of subtle realization on Meghan's face—"She's been quite adamant that Lord Djbril's effort will cause more harm than good."

"She's young and idealistic," Azrael jumped in. "The problems we face can't be surmounted so long as capes are afforded special rights in society. Pretty words alone cannot change the world.."

There was something darkly amusing about Azrael laying bait out for me without realizing I'd baited him several minutes ago. "You're very right. Words alone can't change the world."

"We agree," Azrael chirped.

"Yes. Action is also necessary to change the world. I keep looking for a better way to say it, but I'm not sure there is."

"It might be the messenger," Azrael suggested. "After all, it's easy for you to take action when you have all the power."

"There's some boys in Brockton Bay who beg to differ. I didn't end the Nine. They did."

Azrael reacted, though he hid it well. A furrow in the brow. Tension in the cheeks.

Dinah stole the thunder right out from under him.

"No one needs powers to be powerful." My hand went to my pocket and I slipped my phone out. "Though I understand how telling people that might make them feel like they don't need you."

I sighed, holding back on the moment as that part of me that had changed started to come out. I frowned, looking at the man. There was no denying he had his way with words too. He could have done better. He should have.

He didn't.

"You're the opiate of the masses in its new form."

Azrael gave me an odd look. "A good pastor am I?"

"No. A good pastor tells people what they need to know. He tries to help them. You?" My frown became a scowl as I donned the familiar mask. "You're more like a manipulative brute, cashing in on fear and anger."

His reaction was eager to say the least. "Am I?"

"Cauldron might have been monsters, but they paved their road with good intentions. They staved off the collapse. Bought us time to adapt. We'll never forgive them for what they did, but it's only because of what they did that we have the opportunity to hold them accountable."

"They did the right thing and they should be punished, is what you're saying?" Meghan asked.

I didn't look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Azrael. "You? You don't run toward hell, you crowd people into it."

"You're insinuating I don't care," Azrael muttered with veiled glee.

"You care like addicts care about their kids. Except your drugs are money, fame, and power."

"I'm afraid you're the only one with real power."

"You love your kids, sure," I continued, "but if you have to choose?" I scoffed. "You'll pick the high every time, even if it means throwing the people you proclaim to protect under the bus. You can't help yourself."

He leaned forward, looking at me like I'd given him everything he wanted. "I thought you might be different, but you're just another cape. You hate the rest of us. Loathe us for wanting to hold you and your kind responsible for the damage you do."

"You're underselling yourself, Muruta. Or, maybe you're not. Maybe you just like dragging all of us to your level, so you can pretend to be important." I raised my phone. "Maybe that's why you've been hiring assassins to murder Wards."

I pressed the screen and the TV behind our seats changed. Numbers began scrolling over the screen. Dates. Accounts. Transactions. Veda highlighted all the ones that mattered.

Meghan gawked and Azrael flinched.

"Did you just hack my TV?" Meghan asked.

"Our apologies," Veda announced. "We felt it was important to be unquestionably clear."

"What is this?" Azrael turned in his seat, eyes briefly widening as he looked at the screen. He tried to play it off, unconvincingly. "A dark joke?"

"I will admit your accounts are a joke to figure out." Courtesy of the Number Man. "Or should I say, a series of Blue Cosmos bank accounts, access to all of which is held only by you." I lowered my phone and craned my head back. "You're a shitty criminal, you know. You could have easily obscured these transactions if you bothered to try. Was hiring an international assassin to gun Wards down in the streets really so tempting?"

Azrael jumped from his seat. "You dare?"

"If you think I don't, then you haven't been paying attention."

To most it wouldn't make sense, but it was all real. The transfer records proved the money that paid Ali al-Saachez came from Blue Cosmos. Put all the accounts together, and Azrael was the only one who could have done it.

Azrael really wasn't a smart man.

All the care Blue Cosmos took to avoid thinkers and masters from learning too much. Coded phrases. Strict control of information. No one anywhere having a full picture of everything that was going on. All undone by Azrael sending a psycho off to kill some Wards.

"And to answer you"—My head rose and I addressed my words directly to the nearest camera—"I don't hate you."

I rose up and turned, leaving no doubt that I was talking to anyone watching. Veda projected a window on my visor, showing the stage behind me. It would ruin the effect if Azrael got a cheap shot in while my back was turned.

I could be convincing when I wanted to be, but my talents were limited to a particular kind of convincing.

"I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry that this is how scared you really are." I pointed at Azrael. "You hold him up as your hero and he's killing kids! He suggests everyone grab their guns and start killing their enemies weekly. Capes are his self-proclaimed enemy. You're not shocked. You know what he is."

In the corner of my eye, I saw Azrael start eyeing the exits. It was more reflex than decision, but all the same.

"Go ahead and run," I snapped without looking. "One way or another, you're done."

The moment I said it, the numbers on the screen behind me began dropping.

Azrael stared at the screens. I heard him stumble a bit and he started fishing around his pocket for something. Phone, probably. No doubt he wanted to check to see if those accounts were really being emptied.

"I'm sad that that is good enough for you. A smug asshole on TV telling you how angry you should be and how powerless you are. That you're the victim of the world being fucked up. "

Meghan rose as the numbers kept dropping, eyes widening as I stood at the forefront of the stage. I don't think my outburst or need to inhale and calm myself registered.

Time to be a sword. Affirmation.

"What I hate is that you're all acting like cowards," I declared. "And if that hurts your feelings, I don't know what to say other than do better." I stabbed a finger behind me, directly at Azrael. "He's feeding on you like animals. He wants you to be cowards because that's his power. Power he only has because you give it to him."

I gathered myself, improvising my prepared speech a bit.

sys.v/ the police are already on their way up

Sucked to be Azrael but I didn't care anymore.

The most sympathetic judges on Earth couldn't save him now.

He didn't matter.

"The future is scary. It's not an excuse for what he's done, and not for letting him and others like him do it! Stirring hate and fear, sowing anger because they can capitalize on it."

I looked past the cameras and watched the audience. Some looked confused. Some were horrified. Some were enraptured. More than a few had their phones out, recording me despite the cameras.

"And maybe some of you can't help yourselves. So I'm drawing the line. Pick up a gun. Plant a bomb. Hire someone to spill blood for you. One foot over the line"—I raised a hand and pointed one finger up, conveniently drawing attention to the screen right as the numbers hit zero—"and Celestial Being will strip you of your ability to do so."

Azrael stared at the zeroes.

"That was four hundred and eighty-nine million dollars," I revealed. "We're confiscating it!"

"You can't!" Azrael snapped.

I snapped back without turning. "The Vigilantes Act says I can."

"That law only pertains to parahuman gangs!"

"Write your congressman. Or send your assassin and his tinker-tech arsenal after me with your pocket change. See how that plays out." Hannah was waiting.

"You can't do this," he hissed, turning on me and taking a step forward.

"We just did," I retorted.

Technically, he was right. This wasn't what the Vigilantes Act was made for. We only needed the pretense though. I never had been a cape obsessed with laws, but the 'we' was important. This wasn't just my vendetta.

The blood had to stop, and the truth was I knew it wouldn't.

The war was coming no matter what I did.

Meghan stared from the sideline. "You… You're what, threatening to end violence against parahumans?"

What I could do was direct it before it truly set off. "I don't make threats. I make promises."

Azrael, in a case of hilarious irony, actually said, "The PRT will—"

"Fuck the PRT," I cursed. Turning I looked the man in the eye. "You and everyone like you, you're dealing with us now!"

"You can't," he protested.

"We can and if you think we can't, then set up a court date. The Empire Eighty-Eight can be the witnesses, Lung can be the judge, the Butcher the bailiff, and the Slaughterhouse Nine can take the jury box!"

"You've gone too—"

"Red Ranger was ten years old. You had her gunned down like a dog! Sue me. "

Ironically, he'd have to find more money and as soon as he did I'd prove Blue Cosmos was funding Phantom Pain. I had all the records to do so. I'd empty that money out too. I could do it, and I didn't care if it cost me people I'd never be able to convince.

At least they'd be alive to hate me for it later.

Behind Azrael, Meghan stared with an open mouth. I did feel bad. I'd basically hijacked her show. I even picked it because it was one of the highest in the ratings and frequently got replayed. Maybe I could give her a freebie later? Rejection. Yeah, she'd probably never want me on her stage again. I guess I'd apologize once the show was over.

Azrael for his part, continued stumbling over objections.

I talked right over him.

"Do as you please," I told the cameras, and everyone watching. "Protest. Call me names. Vote for someone who will push to have me arrested. I. Don't. Care. If you're hard of hearing I'll repeat myself!"

I inhaled and in one long breath declared, "No guns. No bombs. No blood. I don't care what the excuse is. You can either talk your problems out, stew in quiet frustration, or we come down on you."

Azrael, as if suddenly realizing he was about to be royally screwed, started stumbling for that exit.

"Go ahead and run," I told him. "See how far you get now."

He wasn't really running. He looked more angry than scared, but he had to realize the police would be looking into this. He also had to know I could prove it and he'd need some fast talking to even try and weasel out.

I gave the camera one last look, but there wasn't much else to say.

I wouldn't stand and elaborate on what came next for another fifteen minutes. It would ruin the effect. Anyone with intelligence would realize what I meant and they were the ones who needed to understand. The calculators. The schemers. The ones like Azrael who threw others under the bus so they could benefit from it later. The violent psychos would do as they pleased no matter what I did, and I'd show them the line one way or another.

The rest would realize quickly how much I meant what I said.

I stepped away.

"Sorry for hijacking your show, Meghan. I'll make it up to you."

She simply nodded, staring. Yeah, I did feel bad abou—

"Wait."

I paused.

Meghan recovered herself suddenly and looked at me. "Why—No, what are you trying to achieve?"

I blinked.

I knew the immediate reason for why I was doing this. The time to explain it was more than I had. It would ruin the effect of my latest threat to flip the table. Change the script. It was about as convoluted as most of my grand plans were.

"Peace," I told her, and a smile came across my face. I really, genuinely, hated that woman. Agreement. "Peace for all time."

The cameras followed me as I moved toward the edge of the stage.

"And in case anyone was wondering, I don't care where you are either. Door, Brockton Bay."

The portal opened and I walked right through it.

I came face to face with everyone on the other side.

There were TVs arranged around the room and all eyes were on them. Hushed whispers filled the air with questions.

Vicky turned. "Um, I know I just signed on but—" She stopped, staring as the door closed behind me.

Dinah tilted her head, looking up at me. "You might have overdone it."

"People like that only understand the direct and the blunt."

My voice got most of the room to snap around and stare.

"I tried to warn them," Weld promised.

My eyes immediately darted to Hell—Bitch. Query? She stood a bit off to the side with a feline Case-53 and a head with tentacles. Mouser and Garrote. She had two dogs with her and was glaring across the room at Tattletale.

Lisa stood with Cranial's kids. They were all wearing some kind of body armor and carrying tinker-tech guns. I didn't know where they got them from, but given Cranial's past I could guess. One stood out in front of the others. Stella watched me, her eyes knowing.

We were going to have to have another talk when time allowed.

Lisa was talking to Faultline and Defiant. Bakuda stood off on her own, leaning against the wall with Lafter. Claire and Doormaker sat just beside them, along with the dozen capes Count had recruited. Lisa needed Veda's help tracking them all down and they hadn't all agreed to help but getting another dozen capes was a lot.

The Foundation were present, sitting in chairs rather than standing. Trevor was talking to them. He'd spared me a glance when I entered but then looked away. Dean did the same off to the side, but he seemed to prefer bowing his head in silence to distraction.

They weren't angry, according to them. I knew the feeling. It was all so heavy already, and I'd just made it a lot heavier.

"Should probably say something," the monster of my own making mumbled beside me.

"There's nothing else to say."

I looked over the room again. They were all here. Every ally I'd made. Every friend. Network. Extended family, I guess.

Many of them were faces I didn't know personally. Capes from across the US, mostly younger independents and rogues. Jill and Cecil, two of the capes I'd released from the Birdcage on account of innocence, were present.

They'd walk into hell if I asked them to.

Not just them. Veda and Dinah went after the Nine for me. Dinah might have turned it into the start of a rallying cry, but she did it for me. I had to stifle a laugh at that thought. When I started down this path, I knew I needed to cast a shadow. Changing the world required people to carry on even if I was gone. I didn't plan to go away now, but I'd achieved that goal all the same.

Kind of funny, or maybe I was coming down from a high of my own. Did that make me a hypocrite?

"Celestial Being is going to end this war before it can start," I repeated. "If Phantom Pain tries to pick a fight, we're going to show up and insert ourselves between them and their target. If someone tries to retaliate and hit Blue Cosmos protesters, then we're going to insert ourselves between them. I don't care why anyone does it."

I turned on my heel and started toward the door.

"I'm drawing the line. Anyone who can't talk through their problems will have to choose between learning or stewing."

"You can't do that with just the five of you," Weld answered. "It'd be irresponsible to let you try."

I didn't need to look to know he was smiling. Weld had given his affirmation the moment I hinted at my plan. The Case-53s didn't have anything else. Cauldron took their old lives from them. Being heroes now was what was left.

"I don't think any of you would be here at all if you didn't know how bad things are, and how much worse they're going to get. We can stand back and wait for it all to fall apart, or we can do something about it. If you think I'm going too far, or that I'm wrong, that's fine. Make your own choices."

I stepped through the door and descended into the workshop.

Veda stood before the Thrones, Kyrios, and 00. The repaired Tierens lined the wall. We were getting ready to move a lot of gear out of Toronto. We were going to be taking a lot of damage, and I wanted all the repair capacity I could muster. Actually living in Canada wasn't feasible but I could move a lot of what we needed down here.

Orga was with her, looking over a tablet.

"—move the stuff that can't fit through Doormaker's portals," he said. "Just need to get a truck from Naze again."

"I can provide escort to and from Toronto," Veda offered.

"Mika and Barbatos can handle it."

Kati was right. I was not some swooning girl who quietly lamented over boys. Agreement.

I stopped for an entirely different reason.

My eyes were doing it again. I could feel it now. There were so many capes upstairs, it was almost overwhelming. Apology.

They were scared and determined in equal measure. Some knew exactly what I meant. Others didn't, but they trusted me. A few had no real idea what to do, so they stuck with the group. I'd have to talk to them later. Make sure they were really okay with that choice.

There were a few I felt leave. It didn't do much to reduce the volume level. Did Stella and the other kids feel this all the time?

I felt her then, as if she'd heard me. Stella was upstairs but looking down through the floor at me. Discomfort. One word for it, but another talk was definitely in order. Agreement.

I sighed and mumbled to myself. "We really need to expand your vocabulary."

"Taylor?" Veda called. "Who—"

"How's it going?" I moved toward them as I spoke up. "No complications?"

"Nah." Orga held up the tablet. "Just logistics."

"I have gathered the necessary materials," Veda explained. "Unfortunately, some are too large to transport with Claire and Doormaker, or with the teleporter."

I nodded.

This wasn't going to be easy.

It was going to be fucking hard. We needed a lot more production capacity to keep the Gundams working through the fights that were ahead. I didn't have time to put all the facilities together myself. We could move some of Dragon's equipment in, finish up the expanded hanger, and be ready to go in a few days if we rushed it.

It helped that Veda could work around the clock.

"Good," I said. "We need to get everything set. The more Tierens we can throw out there, the fewer lives we're going to risk."

Veda nodded. "Agreed. Forecast also wants to get all the thinkers together. She and I will clear them one last time and then organize the group under Tattletale."

My brow rose. "You want Tattletale to run it?"

"She has more experience than Dinah or I in working with others. Her power is also uniquely suited for parsing large amounts of data. She has 'intuition.'"

"If that's how you want to do it." I didn't have time to manage the thinkers we had myself. I had to trust Veda, Dinah, and—sigh—Lisa. "I give Phantom Pain no time at all before they test us."

Veda nodded again and her avatar turned.

Orga waited till she'd walked a certain distance away before he asked, "What's the real plan?"

I was becoming predictable. "I think it was pretty straightforward as far as threats go."

Orga chuckled. "The people who think you're straightforward drop first."

"True."

I inhaled as the pain in my head intensified. Fighting it didn't really help. It was easier to just let it all flow through me. Made it a bit harder to think but it hurt a lot less.

"I'm forcing Teacher's hand," I revealed.

"Still think he wants to swoop in and be the big hero?"

I nodded. "If one side looks like it's going to come out on top, he'll go to the other."

"Blue Cosmos looks like they're gonna lose, and he makes himself the champion of the oppressed."

"Savior of the downtrodden," I added. "And if Blue Cosmos looks like they're going to win, he'll switch to the PRT's side."

"Hero of justice. Law and order type stuff."

"This way, he can't do either. I'm not going to let one side win. We're going to force them both to glare at one another across our aisle."

I'd thought about it before, but it just didn't seem like a viable option. Dinah's ploy to defeat the Nine and more changed things.

Celestial Being became known for my audacity. Veda's revelation furthered that, but that still tied the entire group to me and my efforts. Veda and Dinah going off on their own, and taking others along with them? Yeah. That changed a lot.

I could sell us as an army now, and a big one. One willing to adopt my craziness and capable of succeeding even against the unbeatable. We'd be tested, and we'd rise to meet it.

"Not bad." Orga turned his head, looking at me from the corner of his eyes. "Of course, the obvious thing to do is attack us. Call us rogues."

I smiled grimly. "It is the obvious thing."

"Sounds like your kind of plan."

Unfortunately.

That's what made it hard for me.

My mind shifted through the assorted emotions and reactions above. I tried to internalize them. Everyone was different. They felt and saw uniquely. There were many similarities yes, but each had their own variation on things.

I wanted to memorize them. Keep those essences of their true selves in my head so they'd be remembered. There would be consequences to my actions. A lot of them. Many I'd probably only appreciate after they blew up in my face. Such was life.

This was a consequence I wanted to appreciate fully. "Some of us are going to die."

Orga grinned. His eyes flickered to the elevator and I suppressed a reaction. I didn't know what else to say other than what I'd already said. I'd be be keeping Riley around with some gear from Toronto to help keep her contained. Just in case. I couldn't ask Orga to do that job. I had to do it myself.

Fortunately for her, Orga had seen enough dead kids too.

"We all gotta go sometime," he whispered.

I forcibly stifled a frown.

I'd missed it before, that he wanted to be the one to go. I don't think he wanted to die exactly, but it ate him up inside. He didn't want to keep losing them, and he didn't understand why he was still alive when they weren't.

Survivor's guilt. Not something I suffered from I think—Confirmation—but I empathized.

"It's not too late," I pointed out.

"Mika's given you the line."

My lungs filled and I let out an exaggerated breath. "Yeah."

"There's plenty more like us out there," he said. "You're right. It's what happened, and it'll keep happening until something changes. And we have this place we've made to protect too." He turned on his heel and laughed. "Hope you've got a plan that goes beyond sticking it to Teacher. I'd hate to die looking like a fool."

My lips turned up in a solemn smile. "It'll be a show. I can promise you that."

Slowly, I turned my head.

The Raiser unit came down and fitted to 00's back. The binders on either side swung forward, closing over the GN drives. The massive fins locked in place, forming an enormous combination of antenna, compressor, and weapons pod. The central fuselage of the unit locked onto the back of the suit itself, with a slot for a Haro to ride on and enough compressors to make the old Full Armor unit look like a mere light show.

Ultimately, 00 was a prototype. I'd never intended to actually use it but I didn't have time at the moment to build its successor. The Raiser would stabilize the Twin Drive system and enable the entire thing to work as intended. I'd started converting Trevor's trace system too. Now that I knew why it wasn't working it was just a matter of adjusting the sensor to detect my brainwaves.

I checked the time as the locks fitted and the completed suit rested in its alcove.

I'd given everyone upstairs enough time. Their chattering emotions had settled a bit, enough that they became a dull stream of consciousness in the back of my head. Time to see who was left.

I followed Orga up the stairs and onto the factory floor.

I met their eyes one by one, trying to attach faces to the emotions I'd picked up.

Weld. Nix and Nyx. Cecil. Bitch. Mikazuki. Claire. Doormaker. Dean. Doctor J. Lisa. Lafter. Colin. Sabah. Vicky. Jill…

We were going to need a picture.

Four had walked away. That was fair. I was asking a lot and it surprised me more hadn't left. There were so few of us, and I'd threatened to enforce peace on the whole world. Not in the most literal sense. I could hardly stop countries from having their spats.

I could stop people from killing each other in the streets though. I could force those who wanted to fight into fighting us. Londo Bell. Tekkadan. The kids. Probably numbered about a thousand if I added them all up, including those not in the room.

My hands relaxed at my side.

I had changed.

From an angry child, to a naive optimist, to a bitter idealist. I think I'd worn all those masks at some point or another in my search for an answer. I think I had one now, though it was still a bit bitter in my throat.

"Some of us are going to die. We didn't put on our masks to be safe while the world burned. I just wanted to be sure you all knew the price we're going to pay"—I looked them all in the eye—"and that it's going to be worth it. We're going to make it worth it."

The future wasn't so far away. We could reach it if we could just hold on a little longer.

Agreement.

Ready?

Confirmation.

"Let's go."