Chapter 7-4

What went wrong, I asked myself as we flew back to the Rig. People had died because of me. No, that implied that I got them killed because of a mistake. I killed people. I made the choice to end someone's life and I followed through without hesitation. I acted. No regret, no remorse, no emotion. I acted and I felt nothing. Those men were an obstacle in my path. They were trying to kill me and my friends, so I killed them instead. I didn't like doing it. I didn't hate doing it. I just felt nothing.

Why didn't I feel anything? Shouldn't it be like it is in movies? Shouldn't I buckle over, wanting to throw up? Shouldn't I stare at my bloodied hands in a horrified way? Shouldn't I want to curl up into a ball and cry?

What happened to me? I remember how I felt about Lung, and he wasn't even dead. I almost gave up on being a hero, then and there. After all, heroes weren't killers. They caught criminals and put them in jail. They didn't butcher them like cattle. How did I change so much?

Aegis put me down on a landing pad and sent me on my way without a word. EMT's with stretchers ran out of the building and headed to Kid Win and Bakuda. I got out of the way and watched them leave. Should I follow them? Probably not. I was still covered in blood, which wasn't particularly hygienic. Besides, judging by the looks Aegis was giving me, I probably wasn't welcome anymore. In a way, I couldn't blame him. Heroes weren't killers and I sure as hell was one now. I wouldn't be surprised if someone showed up to arrest me soon. Even if I wasn't, the other Wards were never going to trust me again.

Funny. The thought of being kicked out of the team was the first genuine fear I've felt all night.

Until then, I decided to clean myself up. I took a shower and scrubbed the blood and viscera off my armor. If this were a movie, I'd probably be scrubbing myself raw, only to realize that the 'filth' wouldn't come off, no matter how hard I tried. Thankfully (or not, I wasn't sure), this wasn't a movie and once the last of the blood was washed away, I felt no need to continue. I simply returned to my room and changed back into my civvies.

My room on the base was barren, mostly because I hadn't really bothered prettying it up. I didn't see the need: I spent most of my nights at home and only came here to crash. I really didn't need anything but a bed and a change of clothes. Maybe…maybe I should fix that. Put something of myself in it, if only to show everyone that I'm not a soulless monster. If only to show myself…

There was a knock on the door. "Uh, come in." Red stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Red? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I suppose." She replied evenly. "At least, not for me. There's something troubling you, isn't it?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but immediately closed it afterwards. Was I allowed to tell her what was on my mind? Did I even want to? "I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it."

"Ah, yes, the mystery mission that no one can speak off but everyone keeps talking about. Don't act surprised. It was impossible to miss the mobilization of the entire Protectorate. Whatever my former captors have done, it must have angered you greatly. A pity Armsmaster wouldn't let me assist."

So she already knew about the Boxheads. If I had to guess, she was probably fishing for details. I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear that I murdered a bunch of them. "I can't talk about it."

"Can't or won't?" Red asked. "Did your superiors order you to stay silent or are you ashamed for the lives you've taken?"

My mind came to a screeching halt. "How…you…but…"

"You are alive, little one. The greedy men do not hesitate or hold back. Either they die, or you do. Since you are here, I can only assume that you killed my captors before my captors could kill you. What I don't understand is why this bothers you so much. Surely you do not feel any sympathy towards them?"

I just stared at her. Seriously Red, what the fuck? "Just because they're assholes who chop people up for money doesn't mean we can just murder them!"

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because killing is wrong, dammit!" I almost screamed.

"Why?"

Why? What kind of question what that? Killing is wrong. Everyone knew that. "What do you mean 'why'?"

To her credit, Red kept her cool. She just sat down and calmly started explaining. "Killing is simply an action, little one. Like any other action, it is neither good nor evil. It simply is. What matters is the context of the act. Who is killed? Why are they killed? What are the consequences, good or bad, of their deaths? What is the difference between killing a loving father or a member of the Slaughterhouse 9? At its core, there is none: I end a life. However, killing the former makes me a monster while killing the later makes me a hero. Why do you think that is?"

"Context?"

"Precisely." Red nodded.

"I'm not just killing the person, I'm also stopping anything he'd do in the future."

"Which may be good or bad, depending on who the victim is." Red sat down next to me. "Those men you killed, would they have stopped torturing if they were still alive? Was there any chance of taking them prisoner without risking your life or that of your allies? Would trying have done any good whatsoever?"

My head sagged. Fuck her for making so much sense. It's just…there had to be something wrong with this kind of moral relativism, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. "It doesn't work like that. We're supposed to uphold the law and the law says all lives are equal. We can't just kill people because they're criminals."

"Ah, yes, 'equality'. That tantalizing little illusion that idiots cling to for dear life. Is that why your tormentor was given free reign for so long?" My heart skipped a beat. Before I could chew her out, Red held up her hands and said: "My apologies. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were."

"But my point still stands." Red immediately continued. "Hypocrisy is the order of the day in this world. Take the PRT, for instance. It proudly proclaims that it stands for truth and justice, but it casually sweeps its own mistakes under the rug. They want to integrate parahumans into society, while simultaneously dressing you up in ridiculous costumes and putting you on a pedestal. It wants you to fight crime, while also tying you down with so many rules and regulations that doing so is completely impossible. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that the PRT is either run by disconnected fools or deliberately designed to fail."

"What are you trying to get at?"

"That the law and the people who make them are fallible, little one. No rule is perfect and can prepare you for every situation you might encounter. Tonight, you were forced into a position where the only way out was to fight to the death. That doesn't make you a monster. Taking lives has consequences, yes, but you are clearly not hiding from them. At the end of the day, you did what you had to do. Nothing more, nothing less."

I looked at her, blankly. "You're not saying anything I haven't told myself."

"Then what is the problem?" She asked.

"That part of me thinks you're right. That I think you've got a point and that it's okay to be a fucking murderer if I can find an excuse and that I'll probably get locked up and…" I slowed down and took a deep breath before I completely broke down.

"Did those men have an opportunity to walk away?"

Walk away? I guess she meant if they could have walked away from cape life if they wanted to. "Well, we didn't know who they were beneath the helmets. They could have disbanded and we'd never be able to find them. God, I even gave them a chance to surrender and they just opened fire."

Red frowned. It looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't. Then, she continued: "Then you have done everything you could to avoid a confrontation. More than you probably should. At any rate, those men simply didn't give you a choice: either you and yours died, or they did. I don't think you can be blamed for that and if you're not responsible, why should you feel guilty? Listen to your instincts, little one. Those men made their choice. Their deaths are no one's fault but their own."

I snickered mirthlessly. "Yeah, try telling everyone else that."

"Then the problem isn't you, but the people you work with."

"The people that can make my life a living hell, Red. What am I supposed to do? I finally got some friends again, and now I'm going to lose them over this."

"You took the lives of a group of extremely dangerous, heavily armed villains to protect others. If they are really your friends, they will understand in time. If not, then their opinion should not matter to you."

"It's not that simple." I added, morosely.

"Few things are," She replied "but please, remember this: even if you cannot trust anything else, trust in yourself. Never doubt your instincts. They will keep you alive."

There was another knock on the door. Lisa. "Oh, didn't know you had guests." She said, unapologetically. "Halbeard wants to debrief in a couple of minutes."

I nodded. Better get going then. Red got the message and left without another word. I guess she felt she'd said what needed to be said. Fair enough.

"You okay?" Lisa asked, seemingly concerned.

Was I okay? I probably killed more people in one night than most villains do over their entire career and I still don't feel that guilty about it. No, I'm not okay. "I think I might be a psychopath."

"Really?"

Wait, did I say that out loud? I just did, didn't I? "Please don't tell anyone I said that."

Lisa burst out laughing. Dammit, this wasn't funny! "Oh, God, I'm sorry. Taylor, sweetie, you're not a psychopath. Believe me, I've met people that were, and you're nothing like that."

"So you're…"

"Okay with it? Meh, more or less." She replied with a shrug. "Can't say those fuckers didn't have it coming. Besides, better them than one of ours. I'm starting to like you guys." Well, at least I have the approval of our token evil teammate. Not sure what to think about that. Then Lisa started laughing even harder. Fucking Thinkers.

"I'm serious, Taylor." She added. "All capes have their issues and if yours is going terminator when someone touches your friends, well… I don't mind. I'm just glad you're on our side." Her grin was almost reassuring.

Well, that's one way of looking at it.