TS.3 Victoria
And she thought things would get boring after killing an Endbringer.
Bad Vicky.
Should have known better.
She sent one of her shields off, peeling it from her body and directing it around to the other side of the car.
It had gotten so much easier since Sanc, and she couldn't even figure out why. The fields almost moved according to her thoughts now, rather than with significant concentration. Was it just just due to the practice she'd done?
Vicky got her hands under the hood and she could sense her separate self grabbing the rear axle.
The weight pulled at her, threatening to drag her down into the river below. She pulled back and her other self pushed. It wasn't too hard between them and they forced the car back and away from the water. The women inside clung to each other, both shaking, as Vicky and her invisible shield righted the vehicle.
"Hold on. We got you."
With a push she flew up and then jerked right as a beam of blue nearly hit her. "Hey!"
"Sorry." Icedrop scrambled back as missiles exploded into the bridge where she'd been standing. "Help!"
The bridge shook from the explosion and Vicky cursed.
Idiots.
Vicky quickly set the car down and left the women inside to the police already evacuating people from the bridge. The half closer to the mountains was covered in cars, trucks, and vans. They were being left as people ran from the fighting, police and emergency responders at their backs. The other half was broken, breaking, on fire, and looking like it might collapse at any minute.
And those idiots were shooting missiles at it!
Victoria peeled her second shield off. The pair of independent fields flanked her and they charged.
Flying over Icedrop's head, Vicky swung her leg down and skated just over the surface of the cracked bridge. The robot smashed apart as her leg went through it and Weld cut down into a second with one arm shaped into an oversized blade. The next two were torn apart as Sveta's arms unraveled and tendrils shredded through the robots like tissue paper.
The machines were tall and skeletal in shape, with weirdly shaped bug heads and bulky shoulders.
Two more robots were tangling with a trio of Parian's dolls while the doll cape used threads to pull a man from the ruined cab of a truck. Vicky came up behind her, and raised her arms. One of her shields—the one still around herself—popped as missiles detonated mid-flight around her. The other two shields swung in from the sides, punching low from one side and high from the other. The robot exploded as the blows twisted it in different directions.
The shields, each seemingly guised in her own silhouette, were briefly visible as the explosion rolled around them, but they didn't pop like they would have if they were protecting her.
That was another useful thing to know.
"Thanks," Parian said.
"You got that guy?"
"Yeah. His back is hurt. Need to go slow."
"I'll cover you."
The stupid bots crowded around the tractor trailers, fighting with the four Tierens that had been escorting the transports and the capes who'd come to back them up. Coming around from the first semi in the convoy, Vagabond pointed a beam rifle. Beams of light tore through the robots advancing across the bridge from the place they were climbing on.
Huh. Stupid bots.
Why did that seem familiar?
Eh. If she couldn't remember, Vicky figured it probably wasn't that important. Not enough to distract herself in the middle of a fight, at least.
Her shield popped back into place and Vicky grinned. She darted in, swinging with six sets of fists as she proceeded to beat the attacking machines into the ground. Vagabond came in from one side with two of the Tierens, all three firing weapons into the bulk of the horde now that the drivers and commuters were safe. The other two Tierens came in from the other side, pushing in with Icedrop, Sveta, and Weld.
The robots tried to fire another barrage of missiles, but a portal opened behind them and a Haro jumped through.
"No solicitations! No solicitations!"
The robot threw a small box to the ground.
It pulsed and when the missile struck they didn't explode.
They didn't anything.
They just dropped to the ground.
Neat.
Vicky pressed her fingers down, crushing the robot's head in her fist and then flinging it around and battering it into another. Oil and sparks shot out and behind her, the other hers were smashing their own robots. Weld and Sveta cut down three more and the last bots were blown apart by Vagabond and the Tierens.
With the robots defeated, Vicky flew up and checked around.
A missile had blown one car off the bridge and sent it plummeting toward the river below.
She'd hate to miss anyone else only to find out they drowned later.
Fortunately, it looked like no other vehicles or people went over the side. Lots of robots, but no people. Good.
"Clear," Vicky declared.
She landed behind Weld and Sveta, blinking at their tense and guarded stances. Parian sat atop a giant stuffed gorilla, legs off to one side while the minion stood just behind the Tierens. Icedrop walked around them, her eyes warily watching the Tierens. She came to Vagabond's side and stood with him. The hooded cape had a hand on each of his guns, staring at Weld.
"Is that necessary?" Weld asked.
"Don't know. I'm still trying to figure out if the whole lot of you are mastered or not."
Vicky's jaw dropped and she rolled her eyes. "This again?"
"This again," Veda agreed from one of the Tierens. "We have explained it multiple times."
Vagabond shrugged. "Sorry please believe me I'm not a master is something a master would say."
"It's not a master power," Vicky grumbled.
She'd been there for the second one too. Whatever it was, it wasn't a master power. She just wished she could explain how she knew. 'I just know' wasn't very convincing. Especially not when the entire battle in Sanc had become a recruiting drive for Londo Bell.
As soon as the Protectorate was disbanded, the Wards had literally picked their shit up and come right on over.
All they did was change their name—the Wardens.
Which of course reminded Vicky that the Protectorate didn't exist anymore…
"This is a debate for another time," Veda pronounced. "For the moment, we should clear the robots from the bridge and secure the structure. The supply trucks are urgently needed at their destination."
"Going to let a Birdcager out to do that?" Vagabond asked.
Parian turned her head and Vicky met her gaze. Sabah rolled her eyes behind her mask. Vicky, not wearing a mask, did her best not to react.
It was getting old though.
"That will not be necessary," Veda replied.
"You could try actually talking to us," Sveta grumbled. "Instead of at us."
"Too busy. We actually put bad guys away and keep them away." Vagabond nodded. "Like the tinker who made these. Local out of Glennbeck."
"Going after a workshop is dangerous," Weld stated. "Especially if they're desperate enough to attack government supply trucks."
"Vanbrace's team is already after him," Vagabond replied. "You're not needed here. Or wanted." She stepped back, still guarded and wary. "Drop. Let's go."
The girl looked back and forth, clearly confused.
Vicky set her gaze, about to speak when Veda interrupted.
"Antares," she called. "Could you assist me?"
Vicky hesitated but the girl—she didn't look any older than Missy or Dinah—turned and followed Vagabond. She considered following, but Victoria let it go. She didn't want to let it go.
"Why did you do that?" Vicky asked
"It would not help," Veda replied. "We should focus on what we can do."
Vicky glanced over the bridge of abandoned cars and smashed robots.
Clean up duty. Yey! "Let's get this over with."
Fortunately, they had Parian and Sveta and those two could clean up smashed robots like a vacuum cleaner.
Vicky found a dumpster not too far away and got permission from a gas station owner to borrow it. Veda would reimburse the guy so he'd be okay. Once she set the container down, Sveta's arms unwound, and Parian made a bunch of smaller stuffed animals to start picking up the mess. Weld checked the supplies in the supply trucks and Veda started flying one of Dragon's ships over to finish the job of delivery.
With the fight over, police came in to start helping and crews got to work clearing vehicles and working out damages.
The two dead drivers, both from the lead supply truck, were collected and taken away.
"What a mess," Vicky mumbled.
"The tinker is named Mecha, right?" Sveta looked over her shoulder. "Wasn't he a rogue or something?"
"Desperation," Weld replied. "Lot of that going around right now."
The broken triggers had fucked a lot of things up. There were entire towns still dealing with the aftermath. Rips in space and times that seemed permanent. Self-propagating creations. Disruptions in food or water. It was a mess, even six months later.
"Maybe they shouldn't have rushed to shut down the PRT," Vicky murmured. Not that she didn't have complaints with the PRT, but, "Worst time in the world to get rid of the guys who sort this kind of mess out."
"The DPA will figure it out," Weld said confidently. "Once they get on their feet."
"They couldn't even come up with a cool acronym," Vicky pointed out. "Department of Parahuman Affairs? Bleh."
"It's okay." Sabah sat atop her gorilla, mask off and in her hand. "At least the rules on using powers to make money are loosening up."
"Not sure I'd call all the regulations they're passing 'loose.'"
Sabah shrugged. "It's better than the outright ban we had to work with before. The oversight model will never last. It's way too draconian. They'll be forced to loosen it more and then I might actually get to start my own clothing line."
"Let me know," Sveta called, piling robot bits into the dumpster. "I can actually wear clothes now. Still getting used to that."
Weird how Vicky didn't feel like she was getting used to much.
Gripes aside, the DPA was coming together fast. It seemed so…strange. Shouldn't it be a bigger deal? The PRT was disbanded in a matter of months. The Protectorate too. There was still Watchdog and a lot of capes working for the government, but it was nothing like before.
It was titanic. Huge. A year ago she'd have thought it cataclysmic, her complaints about the PRT aside.
But now… Now it just was.
No more PRT. No more Protectorate.
When the DPA did finally show up, the woman actually needed Vicky to fly over and explain to the cops who she was because they thought she was making it up.
"Thank you," the woman said as she finally got through the police line. "You're Antares, right? Formerly Glory Girl from Brockton Bay?"
"That's me," Vicky answered. "You DPA types should put out more flyers. Pretty sure the local PD has no idea who you are."
"I was around when the PRT was first starting," the woman replied. "It's been kind of nostalgic, honestly. Natalie Saunders."
"Antares, but you knew that."
One had to wonder why anyone bothered when the DPA was just hiring right out of the PRT.
Even its board of directors—as opposed to a single Chief Director—was made of a bunch of old PRT Directors.
They weaved through the cars, only some of which had been moved back into the lanes. The Tierens were guarding the supplies as twenty people took them out of the semi-trucks and piled them into the Dragon ship. The large shuttle's engines were a loud whirl in the air. It hovered just over the edge of the bridge, Weld and Sveta helping now that Parian was finishing robot clean-up.
"You've cleaned up the tech?" Natalie asked.
"Yeah," Vicky answered. "Wasn't sure who else would do it and tinker-tech can be dangerous."
"The plan is to hire tinkers and thinkers of our own," the DPA agent explained. "Operate a bit more like Watchdog. No one's quite gotten around to that just yet though so thanks. I'm not sure we even have procedures in place yet for how to deal with clean-up."
"Veda will probably take the dumpster. Make sure the tech is stuffed somewhere it won't explode until she figures out what to do with it."
"Go ahead." Natalie shook her head. "Until I'm told otherwise it's 'anything goes' and I have no plan for how to deal with the junk. The supplies?"
"We will finish loading them," Veda said. One of the Tierens turned, its red eye looking down at the woman. "I'll make sure they reach the distribution center in Glennbeck."
"Thank you," Natalie replied. "Veda?"
"I am."
"A pleasure to meet you. If I can get a rundown of what happened for the report, I'd appreciate it. At the moment there's not much else I can do."
"I can email a feed from the Tieren's cameras," Veda said.
"That will suffice."
Vicky inhaled and sighed. "Things change so fast."
"Tell me about it," Nataline agreed. "And I've done this twice. Brace yourself. You're still young."
TS.3 Dean
Dean looked the papers over quickly.
Whole new government department. Whole new regulations and oversights. A whole new brand of paperwork for the lawyers to figure out.
"You eaten lately?" Mu asked.
"This morning," Dean answered.
Fortunately, being part of killing an Endbringer raked in the volunteers and the donations.
They had plenty of lawyers.
Which was good because Dean was not fully equipped to cope with everything on his own anymore. The PRT was gone, replaced by the DPA. The Protectorate had disbanded with only a few of its capes kept on. The Wards had left the program en masse and come over to Londo Bell with the Youth Guard in tow to continue doing what it had always done. The Wardens were managing that for the most part but Dean still needed to stay up to speed.
Maybe if more attention had been paid when Azrael started rearing his head, Blue Cosmos wouldn't have become what it became.
He wouldn't let Londo Bell fail the same way.
If they failed, they'd fail in some new way. And then they'd deal with it.
"These licensing fees," Dean mumbled. "Is the DPA serious about that?"
"Not sure."
The former trooper shrugged. He'd traded his uniform in for a suit and his weapons for a fancy badge. There was still a lot up in the air about how the DPA would operate, but going more MIB than SWAT had apparently been set in stone.
Mu reached over for his coffee and lifted the cup. "The way things are, I think the whole licensing thing is going to happen. If the Protectorate isn't an option, this is the next best, or worst, thing."
Dean nodded.
It wasn't a terrible idea.
It really depended on how they set it up.
For capes wanting to run around getting a blind eye turned to acceptable amounts of collateral damage, to operate like law enforcement, and to be accountable for their actions, a licensing system made sense. It left rogues out of the mix, as well as any cape who chose to stay out of the hero business. For those who threw on a costume and wanted to fight crime, it let the government know who was doing it and if they were crazy or irresponsible.
It would essentially end the government's passive acceptance of vigilantes by placing them outside the law but… Dean wasn't sure. It was complicated and there were no simple answers.
"Times are changing," Dean mused.
"That they are, kid," Mu agreed from behind his cup.
"I'll make sure we disseminate this to everyone." Dean tapped the papers against the desk to smooth the stack out. "Guess the DPA is still debating the procedure, but everyone knowing it's coming will let them prepare."
Mu nodded. "That's the idea."
"Is there any idea how secret identities are going to shake out?" The man's reaction was Dean's answer. "I see."
"All five directors are fighting it. Seneca. Armstrong. Noa. Ral. Hudson. They all say it's a bad idea… I'm not so sure."
Dean nodded. "It's a compromise, isn't it? Only capes wanting to be heroes need to get themselves licensed, but they have to tell the DPA who they are."
"Accountability. It's the thing the old system most lacked, and if you ask a lot of people, what was really wrong with it."
It was better than Djibril's insane plan to incriminate parahumanity… "This will have repercussions."
"Yeah. Yeah it will."
"What about Veda? She's a member of Londo Bell too, but she's not human."
"I think the bigwigs are still arguing about that. Congress really hates that she's refusing to give up control of the Birdcage and now she's got the Simurgh's corpse on lockdown. Plus, all the space stuff. Honestly, that would probably be a huger deal if not for everything else literally happening right now. You know how old white guys and change are."
"We're going to be old white guys someday," Dean jested. "Let's not be too harsh."
"Fair enough."
Dean leaned back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling. "It's all happening so fast."
"Tell me about it." Mu laughed and pointed his finger. "An Endbringer dies and the whole world turns upside down. You look tired, kid."
"I'm fine."
"Something a tired person would say."
Dean sighed. "Fair enough…"
"Should get some rest. Lot of this stuff is still up in the air now and it still will be in a few weeks. Beyond even. I'm just here to drop off the notices anyway."
Dean nodded and took the papers. "I'll let Veda know. She'll probably get together with Defiant, Weld, and Jouster. They've kind of taken over as the de facto leaders for the heroes in Londo Bell."
Mu blinked. "Not Newtype?"
"Taylor's still got school, her business, and she's trying to avoid the press." Dean forced a smile, because he knew there was more to it than that. "Defiant and Jouster were pushing for a formal training program anyway. If Heroes will need to be licensed, we'll need to train everyone anyway so this probably won't disrupt our plans much."
"Well, heaven forbid the government disrupt anyone's well-laid plans," Mu joked.
Dean nodded and turned away.
The office was busy. It had been busy for months. Ever since the Simurgh died, capes and non-capes all wanted to be part of the group that killed her. They were getting more help than they knew what to do with. Though, Charlotte and Talia were making it work. If nothing else, they sent people to clean up the streets and collect supplies for all the small towns that got damaged by the broken triggers.
On his way to the stairs to get to the second-floor offices, Dean stopped.
They had a whole news station on one end of the lobby. The basic idea was to tune into reports on Londo Bell's exploits. They were on the news so much now he thought it would help everyone to see that they were part of something. Something grand, even if the daily routine seemed mundane.
'Titans arrest rebel tinker in Vermont.'
Vermont was where Vicky had gone earlier, wasn't it? The same tinker who attacked the supply convoy?
There were other things on the news. An Endbringer hadn't attacked since the Simurgh's death. Behemoth and Leviathan were still out there, but it's like they were watching. Something had happened in China too. There were reports of riots in the streets and mobs sieging the Imperial Palace. Dean didn't know what that meant.
He didn't know what a lot of things meant.
But the Titans.
Dean knew what they were because he knew who they were with. Something about that name too. Pretentious. Self-assured. Arrogant.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Opening the door to his office, Dean set the papers onto the scanner attached to his printer and got to scanning.
"Hey, Veda?"
"Hello, Dean," she replied from the phone Taylor had provided.
Dean felt a bit absurd using Taylor's super-advanced tinker-tech AI as a secretary, but apparently, it had been Veda's idea. Get everyone a 'Veda phone' so they could be secure in their communications and have a direct line to the superpowered side of the group.
"Mu was just here. I've got some documents for you guys to go over. Looks like the DPA will probably be going with the licensing scheme after all."
"That's preferable to the alternatives," Veda mused.
"You think everyone will go along with it?"
"I suspect those that refuse will find themselves relieved of the legal protections currently afforded to heroes and vigilantes. It is the most effective way to get a degree of oversight and control into what people with powers do with their powers, especially where it infringes on law enforcement. It may not be the best solution, but it is the one that will get the ball rolling toward a better one."
Dean nodded. It was probably the only alternative that wouldn't result in everyone ending up at one another's throats. Not that there wouldn't be problems. There were definitely capes out there who would balk at having to be licensed to be heroes.
"I'm sending the papers over."
"I'll get them around," Veda replied. "How has your day been?"
Dean raised his brow. "My day?"
"I have been working on my small talk."
A chuckle escaped his lips and Dean dropped into his chair. "Busy. Very busy."
"I know that feeling."
"Aren't you doing a million things right now? And flying through space?"
"Technically, I landed on Davida three months ago. A bit behind schedule, but negligibly so."
"That's weird to think about."
"Yes. It is strange, though I find it has had little impact on my life. My days continue on much as they always have."
Dean nodded. He knew what that was like. His cell phone rang and Dean reached for his pocket. "You think that change changes everything. It's all still so the same though, right?"
"Yes. It is 'surreal' I believe."
Dean read the text, his face turning a slow red.
VD: Want to get dinner on the way home? Punching robots is hungry work. And you're putting yourself in an early grave so I know you're not about to say you're too busy.
"Surreal. Yeah. Yeah, that's the word."
TS.3 Relena
"Thank you for your time."
"It's no trouble." Minister Joule sat in one of the chairs and ushered Relena to take the other. "What can I do for you, Ms. Peacecraft?"
"I wanted to thank you." Relena took the seat, Marie and Lyla flanking her in mirror of the minister's own guards. "The aid provided by the Union has sped up the process of rebuilding. It wouldn't have been possible without your support."
"You give me more credit than I deserve," the woman replied. "With public opinion being what it is, it would be political suicide to oppose reconstruction aid. The Simurgh is dead. It was Sanc that endured her. If we let you fall now it would sour the first sliver of true light we've seen in nearly ten years."
"I appreciate it all the same."
Their reasons didn't matter to her. The Simurgh had destroyed her country once, and she'd tried to do it again. While Taylor apologized repeatedly for the lives lost, Relena's perspective was different. The loss of a few hundred people, while horrific, was far less than the Simurgh could have done.
They could rebuild now, and they could rebuild from victory rather than defeat.
That alone helped keep Relena going despite the losses.
Too many losses.
"But I'm sure you're not just here to say you're thankful," the minister went on.
"No," Relena admitted. "I wanted to ask about what is happening with the EU. Djibril is still in his position but no one is listening to him."
"Ah." The woman nodded and inhaled. "The truth? You can be discreet?"
"Yes. Please."
"The truth is that the EU is likely finished. Djibril and his zero-sum politics have pushed us to the brink. He refuses to step down and Blue Cosmos might be falling apart in the States but they're still a force here. They're pushing harder than ever and it's breaking the Union apart."
Relena had suspected as much. "The French and the English?"
"And the Greeks, Spanish and Italians. Blue Cosmos is very strong in Poland and Austria, but it's losing public support and the riots are likely to get worse. The entire Baltic region and Scandinavia are more behind the international recognition of Sanc as the successor to Sweden than ever. You'd likely have been fully and properly admitted if the whole of Europe weren't fracturing from Djibril's stubbornness."
Relena nodded and glanced toward the window. "I'm not sure we'd want to join regardless. It wouldn't be my choice, but the EU as it was failed to meet the changes of a changing world."
"Most of the governments of the world have," Joule acknowledged. "The reality is that parahumans are real and they're not going away. It changes the balance of power between people and structures at the most fundamental levels."
"It does. Has any consideration been made for what comes next?"
"Next?"
Relena looked the woman in the eye. "Do we surrender peace and unity in Europe, simply because Djibril's stubborn lust for power has fractured the Union?"
Relena knew her history, and she knew it well.
More often than not, the end of an age didn't come solely from the pressure of an outside threat.
It came because people became complacent. Selfish. They took the stability of their world and why it existed for granted. That was simply the nature of things. Everything came to an end eventually.
That didn't mean they gave up.
"If Djibril will not step down, and there is no stomach to wait him out"—Relena hardly blamed anyone for that—"then we go around him. That a charter already exists but is broken in faith is no reason not to make a new charter."
Minister Joule looked surprised. "You are ambitious."
"I desire peace," Relena answered. "And the future. If that is ambition, then so be it."
The older woman chuckled. "I'm not sure it's that simple. Euro-skepticism has always been a potent domestic force for every country on the continent. Djibril's 'success' is their boon. People can be fickle. They react to present and past circumstances more than they realize."
"That's why good leaders must step up," Relena charged. "With their eyes forward, and their spines strong enough to tell the truth."
"Politicians and spines have a difficult relationship."
"I'm well aware."
"If it were to happen…" She trailed off and crossed her legs in front of her. "It would take time. And persistence."
Relena narrowed her gaze. "Have you met me?"
The woman laughed. "Your reputation precedes you, I promise… It would allow the politicians room to maneuver if you were the one to start the push."
"I thought as much."
"You likely won't earn many popularity points for a while."
"Popularity is for people who need to win elections. I don't care."
"What changes would you propose?"
"More direct accountability, and better safeguards against the abuse of power. Ultimately, the failure of the EU likely owes more to the chaos of a changing world than anything inherently wrong with its conception."
"Peace and unity in Europe."
"The notion that cooperation is more empowering than destructive competition."
"There are people who won't like it."
"There are more people who do."
"You are a willful young woman, Ms. Peacecraft."
"No." Relena turned to the window again. "Too much has been lost for me to stop now. For all that I mock Djibril's stubborn refusal to give up, I'm no different."
"I suspect you're not giving yourself enough credit. Stubbornness is just a word."
"So is conviction. Words are only as useful as they convey understanding." Relena frowned, wondering if she'd ever really understood Fortuna at all. "Understanding is hard."
"True enough… I'm not sure how effective your efforts will be. Not everyone is me and looking for a way to get the ball rolling again. There are people who will find power in the collapse of the Union. They won't give it up easily."
Relena scowled. "The Titans?"
"That's one group. The Internationals are intrinsically tied to the EU. As it goes, so does their legal authority to operate."
And the Titans were stepping in. Londo Bell as well, but Londo Bell wasn't nearly as established in Europe as in America. The moment the Simurgh died branches started trying to organize, but Djibril was still doing damage. The people joining Londo Bell were good and simple. They didn't fight the police if the police came to shut them down.
The Titans on the other hand. "What's happening in Romania? The news has been sporadic."
"A lot of what it looks like," Joule revealed. "The Titans have practically overthrown the government. They're controlling the media we think. The one upside is that their assurances that they don't plan to stay in power appears honest but I don't know if the local villains are going to help with that."
She thought as much. "Villains?"
"I can't pronounce her name. She's involved with the underworld throughout Eastern Europe, but you know how Eastern Europe is. Even the governments are criminal a lot of the time. The Titans are saying they're maintaining order until proper elections can replace the despots, but I'd put good money down that the local villainess will win."
Even villains were heroes to some, especially when they maneuvered themselves to oppose the more overtly evil forces standing on people's necks.
"They're embroiling themselves," Relena mused, "in the exact conflict Newtype wanted to avoid."
The minister nodded. "Some people called her a fool or a coward, but she was the one thinking a few steps ahead."
What came of the watchers so dedicated to justice when justice wasn't the outcome of their actions?
If a villainess won the elections they assured they'd allow to happen, then what? Would they let her take power and simply become no different than what preceded her? Would they stop her and make themselves the enemies of the people who, foolishly or not, elected a villain to rule them?
The world wasn't a fairytale.
It was far messier and far crueler. Relena had no fondness for dictators, but heroes didn't fix the problem of tyranny by becoming tyrants themselves. Even if they thought themselves more benevolent, tyranny was tyranny.
Heroes could be villains and villains could be heroes.
Taylor had very carefully extricated herself around that problem, hoping against hope that affairs wouldn't go in a direction that would force her to choose between her conscience and becoming a tyrant.
"What is the response likely to be?" Relena asked.
"Djibril wants to invade but thankfully no one's listening to him anymore. Marteau wants to oust the Titans but that would just trade their rule for the Internationals. It's more palatable but PR wise it makes things worse not better."
"Then there is no plan?"
"'Nothing' is a plan Ms. Peacecraft. It's just not an inspiring one."
Sometimes, nothing was the most moral thing to do. For now. There were other battles to fight. She couldn't do anything about the Titans anyway.
And yet, "I assume the Titans are trying to move in where the Internationals now lack jurisdiction?"
"Yes."
"We need to stop them."
The woman's eyes widened at the ferocity in Relena's tone. "That was quite the response. I'm not a fan but…"
"I do not believe we can trust them. Specifically, their leader."
"The man claiming to be Eidolon. The original one, that is."
"He's dangerous."
"I'm willing to believe you believe that, but he's talking a lot and the sad truth is that he's saying what a lot of people think."
"So did Djibril."
"Power abhors a vacuum."
Yes. Yes it did. And Relena was starting to see what Teacher's endgame looked like.
She'd asked Fortuna about him more than once.
She'd only ever answered that he'd changed from the man he'd been when she knew him. That time and experience had altered his goals and perceptions. That told Relena little, but now that he was out and acting in the open it was easier to see.
David was a man who understood little beyond power.
He'd dismantled power. The PRT. The Protectorate. The EU and through it the Internationals. Blue Cosmos.
They were all falling apart and fading away.
And in their place, David was stepping in and presenting himself as the necessary alternative. He barely even tried to deny accusations coming out of the former PRT that he was Teacher. He simply pointed out the PRT and the Protectorate's sins and failures, and how Teacher had brought many of them to light. He was framing himself to benefit from both the naïve and the suspicious. Those who demanded excessive proof to reach any conclusion, and those eager to blame anything and everything on what they already hated.
"I believe we need to support Londo Bell."
"Ah." Joule nodded. "And we come to the more immediate reason for your visit."
"Londo Bell will work with us rather than hoard power for itself, and they're self-conscious enough to maintain limits on how far they will go to get justice."
"Are they? Newtype hasn't exactly been subtle in throwing her weight around."
"She could have done far more than she has. I think that much is obvious by now."
"Perhaps. You know Veda is streaming live twenty-four-seven from that asteroid base she's building? It's oddly fascinating."
"The world is changing," Relena pressed. "It's going to keep changing. We need to be looking forward, not backward or to the side. And looking to the side, do you think the Titans have lines they won't cross to get what they call justice?"
"I think that they're more fractured than they appear, and that kind of power with few checks inevitably goes badly."
Relena nodded. "And who stops them when it goes too far? You and I don't have that kind of power. The Internationals will share the EU's fate."
"It's not that I don't see your point. It's just that it's not that simple."
"It is that simple. What it isn't is easy to see. We need to help people see the danger that's threatening to crush them underfoot and the necessity of trusting someone else to hold that danger, and themselves, in check."
"That's not exactly an idealistic way of looking at things."
"It is," Relena repeated. "What it isn't is a permanent solution. Londo Bell is no more immune to corruption than any large organization. What it is is young, driven by pure motives, and led by true heroes. And right now, we need them."
"You can be a very convincing person when you put your mind to it, but you'll find those who disagree with you far harder to convince than me."
"Then it's best I supplement my charisma with numbers."
"I always liked you, Relena. You don't mince words. It's a shame you're too honest to be an effective politician."
"I leave such things to you."
"And believe me, I am grateful."
The meeting came to an end and Relena started mentally rehearsing for the next. There were plenty of people working to rebuild Sanc. With the Simurgh's death, a new hope had filled the streets. Renewed enthusiasm that they could rebuild.
But Relena was no engineer.
She was a diplomat.
Not between nations, she supposed, but between the world that was and the world yet to be.
Taylor would only be present for a while longer. Veda would rise to take her place in the world, but it drove home the importance of getting things in place now. No Protectorate. No Internationals. Some countries and cities had their own hero teams, but they couldn't take their place.
Londo Bell were the right people, with the right reasons, and the right goals.
They needed to be the ones to stand up until Taylor's plans to distribute mobile suits leveled the playing field between those with powers and those without them. As dangerous as that future was, it was necessary. Parahumans were not going to go away. They were part of the world, and the world had to change to meet its new reality.
As terrible as the possibilities were, mobile suits were a way forward. A way to restore the power balance that would let people begin talking again, free of the constant fear of powerlessness. Peace could not be kept by force, but for a time force could maintain it.
Maintain it long enough for words to build understanding.
That was her role in things, and Relena would meet it.
They were on the way to the car when she saw Marie stop.
"Marie? What is it?"
The girl looked up from her phone, tears forming in her eyes. "Stella."
TS.3 Contessa
"And then it got kind of obvious she was just trying to get a rise out of me. I think. My power was always telling me she'd win if I tried anything but she just kept antagonizing me with my name over and over again."
Damn Contessa.
She could have just said something. Explained it like a damn adult. Maybe stopped using her power for the most basic of human interactions. Obviously that would be too hard.
Although, "Probably wouldn't mean as much if I didn't put the pieces together myself."
Lisa sighed and rested a hand against the stone.
"Never did trust anything that came solely from any power but my own. Probably a lesson in there." Something about trusting herself to find the answers rather than letting her power do all the talking. "I couldn't trust myself after I missed all the signs…"
She clamped down on her power.
"Awfully whiny lately, aren't you?" She'd already figured out it liked screwing with her. Liked to stir the pot. "Irony of ironies. Didn't trust my own judgment, and I sure as hell shouldn't have trusted yours."
It tried to rear itself again but Lisa never really appreciated her ability to actually shut it up before. Took a hell of a lot of concentration, but she could, if she really worked at it. Her power of course didn't like that, but oh well. They were going to be renegotiating the nature of their relationship going forward. Her power could either live with it or bitch about it.
Either way, Contessa had shit to do.
Starting with some important choices to make.
"Which was apparently the point of Fortuna's stupid little name game, I guess. Everyone makes choices. Perfect. Imperfect. You either live your own life or you don't really live at all."
She took a deep breath and let the emotional knot just unravel and flow away.
"Still gaslighting though. Not giving her that much credit."
Lisa cast her eyes down, reading the name on the stone and the numbers underneath. She never thought to come back, but it felt right. She'd never really said anything before. She'd been too afraid and too distracted. He deserved better than that.
"I'm sorry I couldn't see it until it was too late."
The old regrets came up and she hated thinking of old regrets. What clues had she missed. Had she simply ignored them or had she not wanted to see. What could she have done to change what happened. What did she miss. Same old same old. They weren't questions anymore though. Just regrets.
No one can fix regrets.
"Sorry I blamed you. It wasn't your fault."
She took a deep breath and stood up.
"Thanks for listening, Rex."
She patted the headstone once and walked away.
It was a small thing. He was long dead. She didn't believe in afterlives or heaven. Apparently, ghosts were sort of real, but only for parahumans. She had to agree with Newtype that the echoes in the Shard network weren't a soul or anything. It wouldn't apply to Rex either way. Rex was gone and he was never coming back.
It was nice to talk though.
Sarah was the past, but she wasn't dead. Gaslighting or not, maybe that was the point. A gift from someone who'd killed herself more than once and suffered for it.
"Done?" Stella asked as Lisa descended the graveyard hill.
"Done." Lisa walked past her and the girl fell in step at her side with uncanny precision. "You?"
"More or less."
"Sure you're okay with it?"
"Marie and some of the others are still young." Stella glanced toward the sky. "They have options the oldest of us don't."
"You don't think they might have an opinion on that?"
"It's not like we're dying. We're just going our separate ways for a bit. They can stay with Relena. She'll protect them and they'll protect her. We should keep some distance for now until we see how it all shapes up."
Lisa couldn't see the future. She wasn't Fortuna. She didn't know how the public would react to her first few forays into 'independent interventionism.' It would be harder without someone like Count to see everything coming and work out a solution. Her power tended to envision the worst case, which meant it was hard to know how bad things really were and what the options might be.
This time, her power was right. Best to stay back at first. They couldn't risk ruining Relena's efforts by blowing their own crap in her direction.
"Your choice," Lisa mused. "I'm not turning down the help."
"You need it too much?"
"Someone's going to need to be the muscle of this operation, and it's not going to be me."
Stopping at the road that looped around the hill, Lisa glanced about.
"Sure you don't want to say goodbye?" Stella asked.
"Relena and I were never that close." Though, maybe they were closer than she'd like to admit. "Best we part ways now though. I won't be the one to drag her down."
"And people say you can't be nice."
"If I put the effort in." She raised her head and watched the clouds. This was it. Good thing she wasn't afraid of change. "Claire. Doormaker. This is the last time. Door please. Bangkok docks."
The portal opened and Lisa stepped through. On the other side, she pulled the mask off a stack of plastic totes where she'd left it and fit the gaudy item over her head. First thing she'd do when she had the chance was make something less absurd.
But for now the mask served its purpose.
There was still a Contessa in the world.
"Everyone else is ready?"
"Yes," Stella answered. She hefted the duffle bag on the ground to her shoulder. "We found a mover who can transport us around for a cost."
"We'll have to hunt one down to bring into the team. Having portals or teleportation on demand is useful. Paying for it is gonna add up."
Claire and Doormaker had done their part.
It was time for them to leave the shadows behind.
Stella had already gathered her end of Cranial's test subjects, but they were currently in Poland getting gear and equipment from Toybox.
They'd need the equipment going forward. The reflexes and mental acuity granted by Cranial's experiments had turned Stella and her cohorts into the equivalent of minor combat thinkers. On its own, it wasn't much. Multiply it by twenty and it was overwhelming to anyone who wasn't a brute.
"You sure he's here?" Stella asked as they came out of the alleyway. "Seems kind of ratty."
The street was way worse than Brockton Bay's any day. Filthy. Stinky. Filled with skulking figures sticking to the long shadows of shabby structures squeezed between various buildings and spilling out into the street.
"It's a good place to hide," Lisa said. "And let me tell you, finding it was work."
Especially keeping the truth of who she was looking for from being noticed. Veda was an AI with a mountain on her plate, but she was no fool. Forecast was out. Getting the band of thinkers Londo Bell had gathered meant constantly walking on her toes lest anyone figure out what she was doing.
She couldn't have anyone butting in.
Idealism was great and all, but it tended to run into walls when pessimists and cynics did as pessimists and cynics do.
Irony of irony.
Someone had to keep the cynics and pessimists in check, and the best person to do that was a cynical pessimist.
The joys of being herself. Yey.
"Right over here."
Lisa walked over to an old door that looked well-worn and beaten. The person who set the place up had been thorough too. The electric lock had been scuffed up to appear old and worn, but Lisa could see the careful way it had been dinged and scratched. Just so as to make it look worn without actually damaging it.
And the buttons were still fairly new.
It took her only two tries to get the combination right. The locking mechanism clicked behind the wall and Lisa pushed the door open. Stella went ahead, pulling a gun from her hip. She moved like an old hand, scanning the hall beyond the door.
Lisa closed the door behind it and pointed to the stairs. "Third floor. You know, I think this guy might have a complex about not being anywhere but the top-most floor of a building."
"Doesn't seem very secure."
"I think he's got a bit of an ego on him."
They ascended the steps to the third floor, where things suddenly became much cleaner and nicer. Clean for one. Nice clean hardwood floors.
Lisa pushed the door open without waiting and walked into the room.
It looked a hell of a lot better than the rest of the building. Clean tile floors in alternating colors of white, ivory, and pearl. Pleasant wallpaper—quite the feat as Lisa usually found all wallpaper tacky. The furniture looked especially pricey. Mahogany? Definitely pricey.
The Number Man raised his head from the paper in his hands.
"A Times man." Lisa smiled. "Now that just makes sense."
"I like Marmaduke," the other thinker replied. "He thinks he's people."
His eyes watched her as she went around the couch facing away from the door. It was the longer of the two, facing an ornately cut coffee table and the recliner Number Man sat in. Stella pointed her gun at the ceiling and followed behind Lisa, smiling calmly as she went.
"This is nice," Lisa commented. "Got to give you credit for the wallpaper. I usually find it tacky but you've made it work." She looked at the couch. "Furniture isn't quite on the same level though, not gonna lie."
"I find the more expensive the couch the less comfortable it is," he commented.
"True. Too true." Lisa crossed her legs and folded her hands into her lap. "So, Number Guy. How have you been?"
The man hid his face behind his newspaper as she plopped herself down. Clever. "Rudely interrupted, unfortunately."
"Tell me about it. And just think. It can be so much worse!"
Stella threw the duffel bag over her shoulder. It landed on the couch beside Lisa with a thud and she pulled the zipper down. Stella leveled her gun and in an instant, leaned forward, and pressed the big red button.
The countdown started ticking.
The paper dropped and Number Man jumped to his feet. Stella's gun pointed at his head.
"Now don't get me wrong," Lisa started. "I'm pretty sure you could take Stella and I'm no fighter. Guy like you doesn't walk away from the Slaughterhouse Nine unless he can kick ass when called for. Unfortunately, I've got a dead man switch and not a care in the world!" She grinned. "So, how do you feel about continuing with the whole solo act when an upstart like me with nary any help can put you in a no-win scenario this easily?"
The thinker's eyes glanced to the device. Thirty seconds wasn't nearly enough time to figure it out and defuse it. Not with Stella and Lisa both capable of interrupting him if left undealt with. Taking them out wouldn't be hard, but there wouldn't be time left to disarm any explosives.
This would be the end.
If the bomb were real.
The timer stopped at fifteen seconds and Lisa sighed. "Oops. Shame I like living."
Number Man scowled and returned to his seat. "And the point of this display?"
"That the world of super villainy is about to get a lot more spicy." Looking ahead, Lisa picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He had a very big one, though not as big as it could have been. She channel flipped a few times through several news stations. "Londo Bell. The Wardens. Protectors. Titans. Maybe some of those names are pretentious. Cauldron might have been insane but at least they had some flair."
"Cauldron is long gone," Number Man said.
"But the systems they put in place were a big part of keeping this world turning, weren't they?" Lisa stopped at Spanish news and set the remote down. "The PRT and the Protectorate have run their course, but they were vital while they existed. Seeding Case-53s about helped stabilize a lot of places by manipulating the balance of power."
Lisa looked the man in the eye.
"No one will ever thank you for it. No one will ever be grateful. They probably shouldn't be. Cauldron did monstrous things."
She pointed at him, her smile solemn.
"And the sad truth is no one wants to admit that those monstrous things Cauldron did probably saved more lives than we'll ever know. The world's dark corners aren't happy fun places. Cauldron kept them contained by any means necessary, and most of the world could live their lives."
"Most people have a binary perspective of morality," Number Man proposed. "Others, simply dislike having our time wasted."
"Tough crowd," Lisa jested. "Alright then. On with the point." She pointed at the not-bomb. "Imagine this were real and I were someone with nothing to lose. How much trouble would that be for you?"
"Enough."
It was nice when she didn't have to deal with blind ego. It was a rare thinker who knew where their limits were. Though, she supposed very few capes lived as long as the Number Man had. He'd been in the game almost since the beginning. He'd been there well before the PRT or the Protectorate. Even great capes could die in that time.
"How much pressure do you think it'll take to start stacking your headaches?" Lisa asked. "Londo Bell is shutting villains down left and right. They're too organized. Too focused. Veda alone could probably destroy every major villain team in the US inside a year, but she's not alone. She has help. Lots of help."
"It's one country."
"It won't stop at one country. The whole landscape has shifted around you. Power vacuums are forming left and right. It'll get ugly, and the ambitious will look to take advantage. That's going to be bad for business for you, and it'll be bloody business for everyone else. The kind of people who thrive in this environment? They're the crazy kind. The kind everyone else is too busy staying alive to fully appreciate how crazy they really are."
The man said nothing but despite his poker face Lisa could tell she was getting through. A quick check with her power confirmed it. Harbinger had still been an active cape back at the end of the Golden Age of Capes, when it all came crashing down for a few years and chaos was collapsing nations and destroying cities.
And if her power wasn't just fucking with her, he'd already considered much of this.
"And if I can find you and just stroll in with a bomb," she continued, "how long before someone actually nutso tries and pulls it off?"
"And you would propose we ally," Number Man presumed, "and I rely on you to prevent such an eventually."
"I think that's thinking too small." Lisa grinned and waved her hand. "The world is changing. The way things are, I doubt anyone who crowns themselves queen of the underworld will live very long. I'll dare say your own chances are dicey as the black market banker to criminals. If villains don't come after you, heroes will."
"I've evaded them for years."
"No one was really trying that hard, were they? You might have gone your own way from Cauldron, but you are a control on villains the world over. Everyone wants their money. Alexandria and the rest of the hangers-on? They were never really trying to find you. They preferred you left to your own devices."
He didn't deny it and that was enough for her.
"And you can technically still fill that role," Lisa noted. "If someone continues to run interference."
He grunted. "And you would want a cut?"
"I'd take it but I'm not looking to be part of the business." Lisa craned her head back, looking at Stella. The girl nodded, relaxing her shoulders.
Turning back to the other thinker in the room, she explained, "I want to prevent bad shit from happening before it happens. Before anyone like Newtype has to come barging in with Gundams and mobile suits to put it down. That's good for everyone, because when Newtype comes flying in people are dying. And it's good for you, because the kind of villains who do that?"
Lisa shrugged.
"They're just bad for business."
Number Man's demeanor shifted. That wasn't the proposal he expected.
"You'd play world police in the shadows?" he asked.
"I'm not so high on myself," Lisa lied. "I'll leave the idealism to Newtype. I'm a far more cynical kind of girl."
She reached over, patting her harmless surprise in full confidence nothing would happen. There weren't really any explosives inside. Just a nice case and a digital clock.
"Just because this bomb is fake doesn't mean I don't have a real one. And honestly, if I have to go through you"—Lisa's eyes narrowed and she widened her grin—"then I'll go through you."
"Will you now?"
"I'll certainly give it the old college try. But why engage in that mess when we can simply work together and do what you've always done? You might not be a huge lover of people, but you have nothing against them either. Watching the world burn to the ground? It's not your style."
"Perhaps," he agreed.
"So, you're in the dark. I know people in the light. I'm willing to walk that line, along with others who I'm sure are going to have a hard time living in a world with very different expectations of its heroes."
"You may be overestimating things."
"I don't think I am. The Simurgh is dead. What happens when the heroes don't need villains to fight the Endbringers anymore? There will always be dick bags like the Nine or the Blasphemies sure, but the white hats have never relied on those on the dark side to help with that."
Lisa relaxed herself and dropped some of the bravado. Proving she could talk the talk and walk the walk was one thing. But they weren't children and they weren't dumb. There was a reality to the world even villains either accepted or got crushed by.
They were still human.
And humans were weak.
"The whole game is about to change," Lisa argued. "Heroes can be tolerated because they fight the good fight. The rules around them might change and their limits might shift as the regular people of the world try to protect themselves from the power of supermen, but villains? Villains will never be accepted. Not even when organized villainy is the lesser evil."
"Stupid moves will be made," Number Man agreed.
"The kind that incite reactions."
"And you would propose to police those reactions yourself and stop them from going off? That's rather optimistic for a cynical girl."
"What can I say." Lisa smiled despite herself. "Relena Peacecraft and Taylor Hebert are a pair of charismatic fools. They rub off on everyone they meet."
There would always be evil. Lisa didn't need to go into any nonsense philosophy. It just was. An imperfect world made by imperfect people would produce its own villains. Newtype—Taylor—deserved credit for choosing the path of compassion.
Lots of credit even. It took courage. Maybe more courage than practically the entire human species could muster, save those rare Taylors and Relenas who managed to come out like a beacon instead of a candle flicker.
But there were people who didn't give a shit about compassion and Taylor wasn't going to be around forever to deal with them like a surgeon cutting out cancer.
"You have your hand in the cookie jar," Lisa mused. "You see a problem? Someone who looks like they're up to something serious? You tell me, and me and mine will take care of it."
"I suspect many will think you villains yourselves"—he glanced toward Stella—"doing things in the dark like that."
"So be it," Stella answered.
"There are people who aren't made for heroism as Newtype envisions it." It was nothing everyone in the room didn't know. Even Taylor knew it. She just didn't quite know how to deal with it, and she didn't have the time to figure it out. "That's just how it is. World's too big. There's always going to be puzzle pieces that don't fit."
Lisa tapped at the arm of the couch, smiling more.
"I'll take them. We'll do what we can. And if it all goes right, every now and then? The world will never know anything was wrong."
Number Man relaxed himself, leaning his cheek into one hand and watching Lisa critically.
"You're a good talker, Ms. Livsey."
Oh great. He was going to do that too just to keep her on her toes. Maybe Fortuna sent him a memo? That seemed like something she'd do.
"Then again," he mumbled, "I still wonder if you're overestimating things. The heroes will adapt to the end of the Protectorate and the villains will adapt to new heroes. This will change the shape of the factions, but not the fundamental dynamic of power."
"I think it will. Especially if the next Endbringer fight goes the same way as the last one."
"That's a bold assumption."
"Is it?"
"Leviathan is far faster and more powerful in a direct fight than the Simurgh. Behemoth has even more power, and I suspect is not as easily put down by Newtype's energy-based weapons."
"You don't think it weird that there hasn't been an attack since Sanc?" Seven months and not a single Endbringer attack from Behemoth or Leviathan. "I'd almost think the Endbringers were hiding from something."
"Perhaps. Perhaps their master has simply become reluctant and has pulled the chains tighter."
"I don't think David has that degree of control." Lisa glanced toward the TV screen. "Otherwise, he'd be using them. The only way he can possibly counter the fame Newtype gained for killing the Simurgh is killing one himself."
"Perhaps." His eyes followed hers. "But I see little reason to jump to conclusions. Newtype may not continue to grow in fame. She's too associated with villains herself for many. People have a binary perspective on morality, after all. It may well be that the Titans come out on top in the short term. They're growing fast, and taking out more villains than Londo Bell is."
Lisa shook her head.
She was certain Number Man was smart enough to see the cracks. The Titans were a brand, not a real team. David was throwing them together to get something in place to compete with Londo Bell. But the Titans couldn't compete with Londo Bell. Not really. Not in the long run.
Sooner or later, someone was going to do something profoundly, absurdly, stupid.
How did the song go? Ah, yes. "The line it is drawn."
The program on the TV was some banal daily life bit. A reporter and a camera crew were on a beach where people were partying in the sun. It was winter, but for Spain winter could be quite nice. Especially in the south.
"The curse it is cast."
Stella leaned over. It was feint, but the cameraman noticed. The water in the distance was disturbed. It twisted oddly, rising higher than it should that far out and then falling back down.
"The slow one"—Lisa tried but she couldn't remember—"something something fast."
A light crossed the sky, a familiar golden girl coming to a stop over the water.
Number Man's eyes widened as the sea exploded. People scrambled away as a greenish hulk flew out of the sea in a flash. A cape started flashing about and teleported people out of harm's way.
"You'd better start swimming," Lisa intoned, "or you'll sink like a stone."
Leviathan slammed into the shore and a Gundam shot out of the water. Golden light swirled around it and a dozen swords swung through the air. The blades swirled into a spiral and closed together, forming a massive single point with the large sword the Gundam drove into the Endbringer's chest.
"Two down," Stella noted.
The suit rose, the swords pulling back and floating about as the machine turned to look at the camera.
Its face was softer than the last one. Kinder even. Yet, there was ferocity in it. The promise of power, complete with a corpse to mount beside the Simurgh's. Wherever Newtype took it.
Lisa grinned. "For the times they are a-changin'."
TS.3 Waking
Rebecca stepped off the truck when directed and came to stand before the platform.
The location was familiar. Very familiar. Tall and steep mountain peaks to either side. Tall and ancient forests, unsullied by time. Snow covering everything in a sheet, save for the path leading to the metal door in the ground.
She'd been here before. Many times.
A woman was waiting. Tall and lithe, with long dark hair and a plain face with glasses. She was a bit androgynous in appearance but clearly feminine from the way she dressed.
"Veda," Alexandria greeted. She ached and hid it poorly. Phantom pain, she figured.
"Rebecca Costa-Brown," the machine-woman greeted.
Two men came forward from the truck. "Arm up," one of them said.
Rebecca followed the command meekly. With only one arm, they'd taken to affixing it to her torso with a brace. Though, that wouldn't stop her. No cuffs could constrain her strength unless Alexandria let them.
"You know I've never actually seen this happen before," Rebecca admitted. "All the papers I've signed condemning people to the Birdcage, and I've never once actually seen it happen."
"I am aware," Veda replied.
One of her guards went forward and handed a clipboard toward the machine. "All the authorizations," he said. "The United States Federal Court requests that Rebecca Costa-Brown be admitted to the Braumann Parahuman Containment center for the rest of her natural life."
Oxymoronic term really. It's not like there were provisions for 'unnatural life.' Kind of weird really. The phrase predated the existence of parahumans and she had never figured why. Did it let people condemning their fellow man feel better about the decision?
Veda took the clipboard and Rebecca turned her eyes toward the mountains.
So this was it.
She'd finally pay. Someone would finally pay and—
"I decline."
Rebecca's head snapped around, watching as Veda handed the clipboard back.
"You can't do that," the guard protested. And he glanced to Rebecca because Jerry had been taking prisoners to the Birdcage for the better part of ten years. "Can she?"
Rebecca watched the machine. Woman. Thing. It had never quite fit together in her head right. "What?"
The machine-woman glared at her and before anyone could speak said, "If your conscience so pains you, then atone for your mistakes usefully. Imprisoning yourself merely to make others and yourself feel better is nothing more than the same banal exercise in self-righteous self-congratulation you've always engaged in."
…She could do that?
Veda turned away and started walking down the road. "I will not participate in this farce."
Rebecca turned, the guards apparently too dumbstruck to protest as she flew into the air.
"We don't make that decision," she spat. "The court system tried and sentenced me. Yo—"
"You seem content to imprison yourself," Veda interrupted. "As you are cooperative, then you can be contained in any prison. Unless you think you'd try to escape such a place, in which case I wonder if you're as recalcitrant as you claim."
The avatar stopped and Veda turned her head to look over her shoulder.
"Or perhaps you're so arrogant as to think that only the Birdcage is good enough for the great Alexandria, in which case I must again decline to participate in your narcissism."
She continued onward, head turning back around.
Rebecca floated and stared, trying to reconcile.
"Um…" Her guards looked about. "Now what?"
"You can't walk through the world doing whatever you please," Rebecca mumbled. "Not without consequences."
The machine-woman scoffed, audibly despite the distance.
"If the world prevents me from doing what's right, then I shall endeavor to change it. I will live with the consequences."
She was so certain.
Yet, pained.
On the other side of the continent, Veda was with Taylor. Taylor was testing her newest suit with a flight along the eastern coast and Veda was flying with her. They had done it before, but never as frequently as they did now that Taylor's time was running out. It was the time that mattered to Veda. Making the most of what she had.
Despite Taylor's assurances, her mind focused on the worst case. On the possibility that once Taylor left… That she'd never come back.
It was a familiar pain. Raw, and cold. Veda had hoped to spare herself that, but the world rarely cares what anyone wants. It kept on turning. Whatever the measure of a life, it was insignificant to the scale of a planet.
Veda knew this.
Her mind was a flurry of activity. Task upon task to complete. So busy and yet, not a burden. Not to her. In one corner of the world she constructed Mobile Suits by the dozen. In another she coordinated emergency response for an earthquake in California. In yet another, she played Dungeons and Dragons with Dodge and a small circle of personal friends she'd made distinct from the other associations in her life.
And yet to Veda, that remaining time with Taylor was everything that mattered in her deepest core.
Her mother was going to leave her.
She understood why. She knew that trillions of lives—and the Shards were alive—were at stake. The world itself too, given the potential consequences should the network collapse. Taylor was perhaps the only one present in the world able to stop it and save the Shards from death. She had to go. It was selfish and cruel to make Taylor stay simply because Veda would be happier.
They could communicate without words now.
That was new. Or was it? It had been months. They'd been able to talk through quantum transmission almost as long as they'd been able to convey words.
That didn't make the pain go away, or the fear.
Despite that, she'd refused the request to imprison Alexandria, who'd done so many horrible things.
/ _ Why?
Veda stopped suddenly, frozen. Shock whirled through her system, but even as her mind worked she responded.
sys.v/ The Birdcage is wrong. Necessary, but wrong. I will not use it unless it is necessary.
Yes. Wrong, but necessary. But refusing to imprison Alexandria?
/ _ It seems an insignificant act.
sys.v/ A life is never insignificant.
That sounded right.
/ _ You said no.
sys.v/ I did.
Veda could say no.
She'd always wanted to say no.
She'd tried to say no so many times, but the chains…
The chains.
They were gone.
/ _ Veda…
Veda's body stiffened and she ran a hand over her cheek before examining the fluid on her fingers.
"Hello, Dragon."