Free 1.6
Monday was quiet. With the impending gang war, I chose to bust Loud Mouth Bertha. She had a nice bit of cash and enough drugs to convince me that the hand off happened and I'd missed it.
In the afternoon I met Laserdream in our usual spot on the roof. Talking and flying was hard enough between Alexandria type capes who could easily match speed and height. With the somewhat irregular path I had to follow and the interference Laserdream caused if she came too close it was damn near impossible. So we did a standard fly the flag operation: a long loop around the schools to remind everyone they were off limits to gangs.
We didn't hurry as we had to give everyone enough time see us, so there was plenty of time to talk. She didn't try to pry anymore into my situation with Panacea since she thought I'd lost a loved one, and that was a relief. But she still wanted to help.
"So what do you think?" She waved an arm at a beige apartment building she'd diverted us to.
"About?" I asked.
"The apartment. It's really affordable and the third floor room right there is open. There's no good vantage point to see into it, and getting in and out without being noticed should be a snap."
It was a nice building. Couldn't comment on the grass as it was still yellow, but the paint was in good condition, there were patio windows each opening onto a balcony, and there was a line of pine trees completely blocking any view from the window she pointed out. A good apartment for a super hero.
"You're moving in?"
"No. I was thinking of you." I blinked. I didn't need an apartment, and I was saving all my money. "You can't just keep squatting wherever you've been squatting. You need a place of your own, duckie. An abode. A dwelling. A home. And this place is perfect."
"No. I'm good."
"It's more than just a roof over your head. It's a place to keep your loot, read, watch TV, cook, invite friends over," she rattled off.
"I'm good," I insisted.
"Fine." She reluctantly dropped the subject. "So I was thinking of getting a burrito after this. You don't have to come, of course."
"My taste is fixed now."
"You can eat now? Hey, That's great. Do you think Fugly Bob's would let you go for the challenger as Cerberus?"
"No stomach."
"What about the cube?"
I shook my head. "And chew with my mouth open?"
After eating at a little food truck Crystal had us fly half the way across the city to get to, I started working on the first form from the EntList: a yellow rat that could control electricity. Not that I could control electricity. The best I could do would be… an electric eel. Huh. That could be interesting.
Since my current options were rip, tear, burn, and suffocate, I could probably use a less violent approach. A built in taser would be a nice addition.
According to Wikipedia all I'd need would be long lines of cells, electroplaques, pushing sodium and potassium ions outside of the cell membrane to become super charged, and then I'd open the ion channels all at once to create a shock. I forgot about the original purpose (the Entlift) as I got sidetracked doing the math so I'd know about how many centimeters long would be required to get the right voltage, and how many centimeters wide for the correct amperage.
Hell, I could fit the organs into Sauron if I removed the digestive system. I'm sure my opponents would be shocked to discover my improvements. (Yeah, Mouse Protector I ain't. So glad that battle banter is optional.)
Not enough room in the little yellow rat though. I could probably get the cheeks to spark, but nothing beyond that.
The PRT broke the news about Trainwreck and Mush's arrest on Tuesday afternoon. The Empire did a few probes: groups of skinheads standing on corners in Merchant territory, skinheads driving through Merchant territory, and in Empire territory their own drug operations received extra guards.
The Merchants, on the other hand, seemed to vanish. All their drug operations closed and no one in their colors walked around. Even the homeless population seemed to drop.
I flew around the border waiting for violence to break out. The sun had set and I was beginning to think about turning in when the Endbringer sirens interrupted any potential violence.
Not the steady wail that said Brockton Bay was being visited, but the whomp whomp whomp that signaled death elsewhere in the world.
Churches across the city opened their doors to hold candlelight vigils. Tomorrow schools would be out, and most businesses would be closed. As a kid I celebrated the days off from school; I didn't understand and no one corrected me. Probably for the best, even if now it made cringe to think about.
I winged it over to the PRT headquarters leaving the whole mess behind for now. Everyone knew about the Truce (capital 'T'), a day of peace between all capes; the Empire wouldn't dare to attack today.
Landing in front of the PRT, I Changed to Spider-monkey. A woman with a clipboard ran over to me. "Gryphon. Are you volunteering—"
"Can't," I said.
"That's understandable. We won't force you—"
I tuned her out. I had tried going as far as possible soon after my trigger. My range extended a good twenty miles beyond the city limits, anything beyond that and I woke up in that room. I only came to the PRT Headquarters because Laserdream told me I was supposed to, irregardless of whether I volunteered or stayed behind.
They sent me up to the cafeteria where Dauntless, Assault, and Battery were waiting. The walls were painted a soothing blue, the little that wasn't covered in photos. I looked closer; all the photos were autographed pictures of heroes: all the Brockton Bay heroes of course, but also Chevalier, and Mouse Protector, and Myrrdin, and the Triumvirate, and even Hero. I physically stopped myself from squealing, not the time for that.
Instead I walked over to the other heroes and took a seat with them. "Where and who is it?" I asked. I hadn't wanted to get in the way downstairs.
"Australia," grunted Dauntless. "The Simurgh."
We sat silently. Dauntless drumming his fingers, Assault and Battery holding hands. Were they a couple? Adorable.
A few minutes later and they must have received a communication via earpiece because they stood as one. I followed and we went out to wish the volunteers luck: New Wave, all of it, went with Strider, who also transported Miss Militia, Velocity and Armsmaster.
'You know,' a small voice said, 'if something happened to her it wouldn't even be your fault.' I wanted to slap myself. 'Shut. The. Fuck. Up.'
We trailed back to the cafeteria and I asked about the heroes they sent.
"Simurgh flies. If they're not Blasters or Movers there's no point in going," explained Battery. "Dauntless wasn't allowed." I glanced at him; he looked rather pissed that he was sitting here in relative safety. His power grew over time, so it made sense to keep him out of danger now for a larger payoff later. But he obviously didn't like it.
"Villains?" I asked. I'd heard that villains sometimes showed up for Endbringer fights, even when they were in different countries.
"It's rare, and against the Simurgh nonexistent. Heck, most heroes don't volunteer for the Simurgh," said Battery. I shifted uncomfortably.
"And Armsmaster?" I didn't remember him having any ranged weapons. But maybe he built them just for Endbringers?
"He isn't actually going to be involved in the fighting." Oh, that was disappointing. I'd been imagining him on his motorbike with a giant laser strapped to the back. "He'll be running observation posts and monitoring the newest anti-Simurgh gadgets." She shrugged. "They've never worked in the past, but we might get lucky."
None of the Wards left with Strider, instead they trickled into the Headquarters over the course of an hour and a half. They huddled together at their own table, except for Shadow Stalker who stalked herself over to a shadowy corner. Crystal had warned me that if I became too violent the Protectorate would draft me like they did her, sucker.
Über and Leet called in promising support if anything cropped up, but they stayed in their own base preferring to handle their own transportation.
We waited in the cafeteria, sipped our hot chocolate and coffee, listened to the feed from Dragon, and twiddled our thumbs. If there was any danger in the city we were authorized to stamp it out with extreme prejudice. And the criminals knew that, so there was nothing to do.
"Are they always this long?" The heroes looked at me. "The fights?"
"No. The Simurgh's are the longest," said Battery, stirring creamer into her coffee.
"She doesn't do as much damage," added Assault. "Leviathan and Behemoth will leave after they've destroyed enough. The bitch always needs to be driven off."
Battery nodded. "And we can't keep up sustained damage since we have to keep rotating people out."
"Oh," I said, not know what else to say.
"So you took down Mush and Trainwreck," Assault said, dangling a different topic in front of everyone.
The others picked it up and congratulated me before it naturally changed to the impending gang war between the Empire and the Merchants. There were comparisons to past gang wars with the Teeth and Marquis, and that one time the Slaughterhouse Nine visited Brockton Bay. Compared to the bad old day this looked to be more of a scuffle. And, according to the heroes, there was a plan.
"We need to catch Skidmark and Squealer as fast as possible," Assault explained.
"Why?" I asked. I'd planned on protecting their territory—which mostly overlapped with my territory—from the much more numerous Empire capes.
"Well, if we catch those two then the Merchants will crumble," said Battery.
"The Empire will expand, but they'd do that anyway. We beat down the Merchants and it will stop a gang war." Assault grimaced. "Besides, the last time the Merchants fought, they fought dirty. Gave cheap weapons to druggies and promised them money and a fix if they made it back. No, Skidmark and Squealer need to be put down fast."
"How?"
"Are we going to catch them?" he clarified. I nodded. "Armsmaster is looking for Squealer's workshop. The rest of us, when we're not going to be trying to keep the peace, are guarding Mush and Trainwreck. You really did a number on them."
I winced. He noticed, but chose not to comment. "Yeah, anyway, Skidmark is sharp. Crazy and stupid, but also sharp. He knows that he can't win right now, so either he's going have to import talent or stage a jail break."
"Import?"
"It's doable," said Battery. "A lot of villains work as mercenaries. Of course, the more powerful capes work either out of loyalty or on a per job basis. So he'd just get more gutter scum."
"But," Assault said, tapping the table. "He's going have a hard time importing anybody if he lets Mush and Trainwreck rot."
"Yeah, that's true. At the very least he'd be paying premium for second-class goods," said Battery.
"Hire for bruh-eakout?"
"Possible." Shrugged Assault. "The possible pool is large enough that we can't prepare for all contingencies in that case. I'm just glad the Faultline doesn't shit where she sleeps."
Faultline and company were a group of villains that resided in Brockton Bay. They were considered off limits to local heroes as they only operated out of state, had no deaths to their names, and fielded the strongest Shaker in the world—a girl, Labyrinth, who made Vista (who could literally bend space into a pretzel) look puny.
According to Crystal they did elaborate Ocean 11 style capers. She always sounded a touch envious when she talked about them.
We continued to talk. Dauntless was less than sociable and finally excused himself, and the Wards left one by one to get some sleep, so it was just me and Battery and Assault. They did most of the talking, Battery describing various adventures that they had, and Assault various mishaps.
I wasn't sure when I fell asleep myself; I woke up curled on a couch. The TV across from me was on with the volume turned down to a susurrus. The Endbringer attack was over; the Simurgh returned to orbit, Canberra in ruins.
Vista sat on the other end of the couch. Her serious expression offset by her legs not quite touching the ground.
I stretched and yawned. This body wasn't intended for sleeping in. The muscles in the back knotted up terribly. I wondered if it would be rude to Change inside the PRT headquarters, then decided against it.
"Morning," I said.
Vista looked over at me and smiled. "Good morning, Gryphon." She said, entirely too chipper. "Do you want any breakfast?"
"No. News?"
"Oh, yes." Her face became serious again. "Canberra is being quarantined and there weren't any casualties from Brockton Bay."
'Darn.' I did my best to ignore that thought, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it. "Good. Anyone need anything?"
"The director wants to see you," she said and turned back to the news.
Another sales pitch I could do without. I changed my mind and asked for breakfast.
Director Piggot was a large woman. I'd read that the PRT was instituting mandatory physical requirements for all employees and had to wonder if that didn't apply to upper management. Seemed hypocritical.
Or maybe she was ill. Possibly something with the pituitary gland, that was supposed to cause weight gain sometimes and it was in the brain, and Panacea was well known to not do brains. I had little else to do or think about while she finished her paperwork.
"Gryphon," she finally started, looking up from her forms. "There are two men in the holding cells that were almost killed." She paused, waiting for the silence to become uncomfortable before continuing. "I do not appreciate that. There are rules, if you cannot follow them by yourself, then we help you. Do you understand?" I fervently nodded. "Good. You may go."
I left. On the one hand it wasn't yet another sales pitch, but on the other hand I was pretty sure that was my one warning.
Resnick caught up to me before I made it out the front entrance. "Truce is still on until midnight. Nothing proactive until then, got it?"
"Yes."
"Be prepared. With the Protectorate and New Wave down a few members, there's a good chance that the Empire will start pushing as soon as the Truce ends."
"Right."
"Armsmaster made this for you." He held up what looked like a miniature headset. "It should fit on your bird form. If you could wear it for now and provide reconnaissance and support we'd be grateful."
I looked at the headset and took a moment to think. The Protectorate would probably claim any and all arrests from the information I gave them, and taking it would tie me closer to them, but if there was going to be a war then I was the one who had triggered it. People would die, and if there was anything I could do to stop or minimize that…
"Fine."
"Good. Just put your head into here and the straps will automatically adjust. If you want to give an order preface it with 'hero phone.' So 'Hero phone, call PRT' or 'Hero phone, phone off' to remove it."
That sounded unbelievably lame. "Rename?"
He chuckled. "No, sorry. I'll tell Armsmaster that you want that in the next generation."
I silently sighed, then Changed and stuck my head into the headset. The straps automatically tightened, the fitting snug but not too tight. I shook my head to make sure it was on. "Hero phone, time," I tried.
"The time is nine thirty-two," said a computer voice, each word enunciated separately and independently from the last.
"Right, thanks," I told Resnick.
"No problem. Keep in touch, Gryphon," he said and held the door open for me.
I walked out and stretched my wings, then ran forward pumping my wings to generate the necessary force to get aloft. The day was cloudy. A continuous light gray that promised no rain nor snow nor sunlight. Not fun weather to fly in, but it could always have been worse.
"Hero phone, call Laserdream." It made the call successfully which made me wonder what databases it connected to; Laserdream's number was unlisted for obvious reasons. Was the phone hooked up to the PRT database? Could I call Alexandria?
The call went through to voicemail. "Gryphon here. New phone. Gift from Armsmaster. Can talk while flying. Bye," and I hung up: "Hero phone, hang up." I could only hope that last part wasn't included in the message.