The Slippery Slope

Part Sixteen: Montage

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Medhall Building
Saturday, 12 February 2011

I followed Peter into the conference room. It was spacious, somewhat longer than it was wide, with picture windows down one side showing a view of the Brockton Bay skyline. A thick padded mat had been laid down over the expensive carpet, turning it into an impromptu dojo. The long table which I guessed normally made up the centrepiece of the room was now down at the far end, with a few guys stacking its ergonomically adjustable chairs against it.

Peter dropped the duffel bag he was holding and clapped his hands once. "Okay, that's fine. You can go." He was wearing light sweats and was barefoot, but he still looked and sounded like a leader to me. Maybe I was biased, but I didn't care.

I was also wearing sweats, with the cog bandanna tied around my face as a mask. While Othala had gone shopping to get me clothes, she hadn't gotten the memo that I was supposed to be learning self-defence, so she hadn't picked up any exercise clothing for me. So Cassie had donated a set of her sweats to the cause until I could get my own. The trouble was that the outfit was a couple of years old, so that while the top fitted me well enough across the shoulders, Cassie wasn't very tall even now, so the trousers were about six inches too short. It looked like I was wearing the exercise equivalent of capri pants.

As the workers filed past us, each man gave Peter a respectful nod, as befitted the boss' nephew (and whatever else he was to them). When they got to me, I tried not to cringe. I looked ridiculous, and I knew it. But they didn't seem to care; instead, they practically bowed. "Ma'am," they murmured as each one passed me. I was still blinking as the door closed behind the last one.

"What was that all about?" I asked Peter. "Did you set that up to make me feel good?" To be honest, if he had, then he'd succeeded. Having a bunch of tough-looking guys show me obvious deference was definitely a boost to my ego.

"Not in the slightest," he said, with a gesture at my mask. "They don't know your real name, or that I'm your boyfriend. But they do know that the cog mask or armour means that you're Remote, who is an Empire cape." He winked. "Which means that so long as you're wearing that mask, you could run around in a bikini and they'd still bow to you." Grinning roguishly, he waggled his eyebrows. "I know that I'd be paying close and personal attention to you."

"Peter!" I punched him in the arm, but I couldn't stop grinning under the mask. Or blushing. "You can't mean that. About them bowing to me, I mean," I added hastily. I knew him too well to challenge the other bit.

Still smirking, he draped his arm over my shoulders. "Sure I mean it. You outrank me, and you definitely outrank them. So they're showing you the appropriate respect." It was surreal, the way he made it sound so matter-of-fact. And then he had to spoil it. "I'll have to see Victor about getting you a cog-patterned bikini."

This time, I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. "Don't you dare!"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that an official order?"

I blinked. "Wait … I can actually give orders? Is that even a thing?" I had to be hearing wrong.

He shrugged. "Well, yes. If you'd, say, told one of those guys to go and get you a soda, you can be damn sure he'd be getting you a soda right now." Peter captured my hands, then leaned over and kissed me briefly through the bandanna-mask. "You're someone important now. And not just to me."

I shook my head. "You have no idea how weird it is to be someone special for the first time in my life. I mean, it was one thing to have you guys say hi to me at Winslow, and another to be sitting in with the Empire capes, but this is … wow." I squeezed his hands, then let go and pulled him into a hug. "I'm just so glad you're here."

"I'm kinda glad you're here too, Taylor," he said with a chuckle. "Even if you weren't a cape, you'd still be really special to me." I felt his head rest against mine.

"You're special to me all the time," I murmured. "It's so good to have you to lean on, in every sense of the word." Suiting action to word, I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arms around me.

"Well, you can lean on me all you like," he assured me. "But right now, 'leaning on me' is going to have to be redefined as 'learning self-defence'." He kissed the side of my neck; I shivered as the touch of his lips on my sensitive skin sent a thrill through my body.

"What if I ordered you not to?" I asked, more to see what he would say than from any intent to do it.

Peter chuckled. "Prior orders would supersede yours. Uncle Max wants you to be able to take care of yourself."

I pulled back a little and lifted the mask so that he could see me stick my tongue out at him. "As my boyfriend, you suck at anticipating my needs. What if I don't want to do this training?"

For some reason, this seemed to amuse him even more. "Well, as it happens, I think you need to learn how to defend yourself. So whether Uncle Max said so or not, I'd still be pushing you to do it."

I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"No," he said, then cupped my cheek with his hand. "But if it makes you feel any better, if I wasn't already in the Empire, that look you just gave me would have made me want to join."

I giggled, then kissed the palm of his hand. "It actually does make me feel a bit better, to be honest. But I suppose that we've wasted enough time. If Kaiser wants me to learn how to not get my ass kicked, then I guess I should learn that." Although I wasn't quite sure how much this training would help me if I happened to find myself in a place where I didn't have anything to work with. Not that I expected that to happen, but recent history had made me a master of pessimism.

Still, I was now a member of the most amazing cape team in the city. They were kind, supportive, willing to help me out with armour and equipment, and my boyfriend was going to teach me how to kick ass and take names. Or rather, how to avoid having my ass kicked. And with Victor improving my armour, I was really looking forward to what he could make of it.

"We should definitely do that," he agreed, walking out into the middle of the mat. "Come on out here. I need to see what you already know."

"Easy," I said, following him. "Nothing. It's kind of depressing."

"What is?" He turned to face me.

I sighed. "In the movies, when you get your ass kicked a dozen times by the same bully, you end up learning how to defend yourself. In real life, when I spend a year being pushed around by the same black bitch and her suck-up friends, all I get is depression and bad grades."

He tilted his head with an evil grin. "About that … would you like some incentive? For learning to defend yourself … offensively?"

I looked at him, wondering where he was going with this. "You gonna massage my feet afterward?" The idea made me melt inside, just a little bit. Seriously, the guy had magic hands. "And my calves?"

"Well, I was gonna do that anyway, but …" The abrupt 'but' caused me to snap out of my fantasy involving him, me, and a bottle of lemon-scented massage oil. Lemon … mmm …

"But? But what?" I asked, not sure where his serious expression had come from.

"But … Uncle Max told me not to tell you this before you had joined the Empire and proven yourself." He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "I need your word that you won't pass this on to anyone else, unless Uncle Max says it's okay."

"Wow. Serious, much?" I tried to chuckle, but it didn't come out right. All this hush-hush business was making me a little nervous. "Sure, Peter. If you think this needs to be kept secret, then I'll keep it a secret. But what's this about an incentive?"

"Well, it's like this." He took a deep breath. "Remember Sophia Hess? Numero uno in your bully brigade? Now, imagine if she was, say … Shadow Stalker, of the Wards."

It took me a second or so to get it, then my eyes opened wide and I forgot to breathe for a moment. That black bitch is … a Ward? She got away with everything because she's a fucking superhero? It made sense. It made so much sense. Which made all of the Protectorate … "They're on her side," I whispered. "All of them. Protectorate. Wards. PRT. Everyone. They must have talked to the school. That's why nothing ever happened to her. Because they were on her fucking side." For the first time, I understood what 'race traitor' truly meant.

I recalled screaming at Blackwell to have her arrested. She hadn't been able to wriggle out of it, not after the locker incident. But I was willing to bet that the moment she was out of sight, the PRT had snapped Sophia up and spirited her away to safety, because they considered a psychotic black Ward to be more important than her unpowered white bullying victim.

"Probably," Peter agreed. "It did answer a few questions I had. Though she hasn't been back to school, and Shadow Stalker hasn't been out and about recently."

"They probably gave her a nice cushy vacation with pay or something," I said bitterly. "'Oh, you got caught doing something naughty? Here, have a slap on the wrist.'" I put on a snooty voice and mimicked a limp-wristed slap at my own hand as I said this. Peter's appreciative chuckle didn't help my temper. "Meanwhile, if we'd done that to her, we'd all be in jail right now."

He stopped laughing abruptly as the truth of what I was saying smacked him in the face. "Sonuvabitch."

"Yeah. What you just said." My own anger ebbing, I looked at him curiously. "How do you know that about her, anyway?"

He tried to assume an innocent expression, which I saw through straight away. "Well, you know that little chat I had with Emma at the time?"

I frowned, trying to think back. "Uh, maybe?"

"Well, I did." He smiled. "I spoke with her about … let's say … atoning for her sins. She decided to roll over on Sophia. In the process, she told me about the Shadow Stalker side of things." His smile widened until he resembled the cat with the canary.

"Wait, so you knew since the locker thing, and you didn't tell me?" Feeling a little betrayed, I shoved him lightly. "What part of 'girlfriend' do you not understand?"

"Like I said, Uncle Max said not to tell you until you were a full member of the Empire," he reminded me. "Information security and all that. But now you're definitely a full member, so I'm telling you. You just can't use the information unless Uncle Max says so." He took hold of my shoulders once more and stared into my eyes. "This is important, Taylor. I'm trusting you with this."

I nodded. "Okay, yeah, I got it. I can't tell anyone, and I can't use it, unless Kaiser says so." I didn't like not being able to shout it from the rooftops, but I could see the logic there.

He smiled. "Excellent. So, are you motivated to learn how to kick ass?"

"Oh, hell yes. Next time I see Shadow Stalker, I'm going to wreck her sorry butt." Stepping away from him a little, I tried to stand like he was. "What do I do first?"

"First off, you need to put your weight on the balls of your feet," he instructed me. As I tried to comply, he glanced down and shook his head. "No, no, the front of your feet." Lifting his right leg, he showed me the sole of his bare foot and pointed at the section just behind his toes. "There. Not the heel."

"But the heel's more like a ball than that," I protested, even as I obeyed his direction. "Why do they call that the balls of your feet? It doesn't make sense."

"I have no idea." He moved back in front of me, making the light sweats he wore look kind of awesome. I just looked like I was wearing hand-me-downs, which I guess I was. "I guess it's better than calling it 'the lumpy bit just behind your toes'. Now concentrate. We're not going to be doing kicks for a bit, if ever, but you do need to know how to throw a punch and defend from one."

I nodded and held up my hands, doing my best to emulate his stance. "What am I doing first?"

The corner of his mouth quirked wryly. "Well, to begin with, I'm going to smack you around a lot until you learn to recognise the beginning of a hostile move. I'll show you what I'm doing, and then we're going to do it over and over again. Once you show that you've got some idea of what's happening, then we'll move into more advanced territory."

"Yay." I made my voice utterly deadpan. "Some boyfriend you are."

He stopped and dropped his hands, then stepped toward me. "Taylor, I'm sorry." Gone was the bantering tone. Putting his hands on my shoulders, he went on. "I wasn't even supposed to be doing this. I asked – we were – Jenna was supposed to do this with you. I should have been sitting on the sideline, offering unhelpful advice and making this fun." His voice broke, and he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his face into my shoulder. I held him tightly, feeling warm tears soaking into my top.

"Hey," I said, rubbing his back in circles. "Hey, Peter. Anything I do with you is fun. I'm sorry, too. I wish Jenna was here to smack me around, so you could tell me what I was doing wrong." Turning my head, I kissed him behind the ear. At the touch of my lips, I felt him shiver. I could have had fun with that, but instead I just held him more tightly. "I miss her too."

Somehow, we found ourselves on our knees, still in one another's arms. I held Peter tightly as, for the first time since I had known him, he broke down and cried.

Coil's Base

In one timeline, Thomas Calvert was enjoying the weekend at home; at this particular moment in time, he was mowing the lawn. In the other, the lawn was going unmowed and he was in costume, sitting in the overpriced yet ergonomically comfortable chair in the office that he had set up in his underground base.

In an idle moment, he had wondered if he wasn't pandering to stereotypes by setting up the base, complete with explosives buried in the walls, in an underground lair. The number of hoops he'd had to jump through in order to build the base without coming to official notice was astounding, though he'd managed to avoid most of the bribery involved by indulging in a little blackmail here and some murder there. But that was so time-consuming.

Why not simply build an office block and keep ownership of the top five storeys or so? There's no rule to say that a secret base actually has to be hidden. It would be simplicity itself to put his mercenaries on the books as regular employees and rig up daily operational stats for the faux business … ah, who am I kidding? It's more fun this way.

So he sat in his costume in his underground base and picked up the phone. Two quick stabs of his finger and the call went through.

"Unit One." It was a low voice, masculine. "No sign of targets. Unit One, out."

Tapping the disconnect button, he speed-dialled Unit Two, and so on through the spotting units that he had placed throughout the city. The main target he sought was a teenage girl called Taylor Hebert; the evidence that had been gathered so far suggested that she had undergone a trigger event nine days previously. Since the brief encounter on the Boardwalk, she had dropped out of sight altogether. However, the smart money had her with the Empire Eighty-Eight, either willingly or otherwise, along with her father.

If, as it seemed, she had been involved with the massacre of ABB goons that left Lung missing an arm, then she would appear to be a cape of some power and capability. Exactly what she could do was still not quite ascertained; the PRT analysts had narrowed it down to a Shaker effect of some sort, possibly telekinetic in nature.

Fresh trigger, powerful cape. Better she work for me than end up with the already-overflowing Empire lineup. And of course, her father makes the perfect 'bargaining' chip.

His secondary target was Peter Ferguson, known to associate with her at Winslow High School. The third was unlikely to show, but Coil rarely left things to chance; if Daniel Hebert popped up in any of his normal haunts, Calvert would get a head start on the bargaining.

The day wore on. In one timeline, Thomas Calvert finished mowing his lawn and started in on trimming the edges. In the other, Coil checked in once more with his spotters. The day wouldn't be a total waste even if none of the targets popped up; after all, the yard work had needed to be done anyway. But he would much rather his other goals be advanced.

Such was not to be. As darkness fell, he dropped the timeline where he'd kept the mercenaries on alert all day. In the reality where he had been cutting the grass, they had been resting and relaxing, performing basic equipment maintenance, and in general having a quiet day. He would pay them all the same, of course; there was no sense in alienating a reliable source of useful manpower.

Without good reason, anyway.

Sunday, 13 February, 2011

With my powers activated, opening the meeting-room doors was simplicity itself. Kaiser, Victor and Othala turned to look as I entered, the doors swinging shut gently behind me. This time, I was wearing the armour that Victor had made. The Empire Eighty-Eight was a powerful group; it only made sense to project power and confidence of my own.

Kaiser afforded me a nod of greeting, then turned to Krieg and began a low-voiced conversation. I moved around the table and pulled out my chair. As I sat down, Rune turned from where she had been speaking to Crusader and whispered, "Hey."

Sliding back the retractable plates from my face, I whispered, "Hey," in return.

Politeness when dealing with allies maintains group cohesion.

On my other side, Victor leaned forward to speak past Othala. "You should see the armour I'm putting together for you now. It'll knock your socks off."

Expression: smile.

Conclusion: pleased with himself.

"I look forward to seeing it." It was true. The armour I was wearing right now was quite impressive. Any improvements would only serve to enhance my utility within the team.

"Well, with the amount of work you're putting into it, buddy, she should be able to kick Alexandria's ass with it," Crusader commented. "I've never seen you work so hard on an engineering project before."

Expression: grin.

Analysis: humour, truthful.

Secondary analysis: Victor must not perform much engineering work in general.

Observation: Victor is very enthusiastic about working on armour.

Conclusion: Victor may wish to use engineering skill more often than he normally gets the chance to.

It was an interesting hypothesis.

Othala took my hand. "I hear you've been training with Peter. I hope he hasn't been too hard on you?"

Tone: concerned.

Conclusion: Does not want personal training to cause dissatisfaction between self and Empire.

"Peter has been teaching me adequately," I replied. "We only started yesterday, and he says he is pleased with my progress. I am choosing to believe him."

Again, this was the truth. I had learned, after several repetitions, to recognise when a hostile move was being made. Occasionally, I'd managed to block a punch. True, it was after Peter had given me warning, but I still managed it. For one day's work, Peter had professed to be quite satisfied.

"You want to learn to fight?" asked Hookwolf from further down the table. "Come to me, I'll teach you to kick ass and take names."

Expression: sneer.

Conclusion: does not believe Peter's training is adequate.

"Not the best idea, Brad," said Victor. "She's a teenage girl, not an aspiring cage fighter."

Gesture: headshake.

Conclusion: negatory.

Hookwolf may have intended to say more but at that moment, Kaiser finished the low conversation he'd been having with Krieg and turned to face the table.

Vocalisation: clearing of throat.

Intent: to get attention.

"Thank you all for attending," he said smoothly. "I'm going to keep this relatively short. As we all know, Remote has debuted in the Empire, but has yet to show her capabilities in the field." His voice was firm and commanding, the cadence regular. It was very easy to listen to him.

"Well, apart from where she kicked Oni Lee's ass and blew Lung's arm off." I had not expected Crusader to say anything. He leaned back in his chair, visor open.

Expression: grin.

Conclusion: pleased with himself.

Kaiser's expression changed slightly.

Expression: Lips curled in smile. Eyes cold. Mixed messages.

Intent: unsure.

"True," he said, "but for that she wore no costume, had no cape name, and was not publicly affiliated with us." He gestured toward me with one metal-clad hand. "Remote is a powerful cape. For the public to truly respect her, she needs to be seen out and about, proving how effective she is."

Othala leaned forward. "Kaiser, I hope you're not talking about throwing her in at the deep end."

Tone: concerned. She cares.

"Indeed I am not," Kaiser replied easily. "Despite the fact that she's already defeated Lung and Oni Lee once, I wouldn't put her up against them again so soon. Then, she had the element of surprise. On a second pass, unprepared, she may not be so lucky. This time, we're going to be handing out a beating to the Merchants."

Observation: allies 'Othala' and 'Victor' relaxing slightly.

Conclusion: danger minimal.

"Well, that's all right then," Crusader said.

Expression: broad grin.

Analysis: very pleased about something.

"Oh, man," said Victor. "That's perfect. The closest they've got to a big hitter is Squealer. They are not gonna know what happened."

Vocalisation: laughter.

Analysis: highly amused.

"Correct," Kaiser said. "Remote will have backup, of course, but with the armour that Victor is building for her, I do not foresee a problem."

Tone: firm.

Conclusion: believes what he is saying.

"So, are we actually taking their territory?" Hookwolf leaned forward on the table "Or just kicking the shit out of the druggies to show 'em who's boss?"

Tone: arrogant, dismissive.

Analysis: believes this is a waste of time.

Secondary analysis: combative, obstructive.

"We may take a block or two," Kaiser allowed. "As you say, just to show them who's boss. But their greater loss will be watching their leaders humbled by just one cape. Once word of that gets around, the Merchants will start to fragment from the inside. When the time comes to take their territory, we will brush them aside with ease."

Tone: pleased.

"That's if the kid can handle her end." Hookwolf was looking at me, his lip curled upward.

Expression: derision.

"Well, Remote?" asked Kaiser. "Do you believe that you can pull it off?"

Tone: encouraging.

Situational analysis: a simple statement of fact will not suffice. An expression of humour is required.

Secondary analysis: a pun playing on the word 'merchant' would be ideal.

…

…

Pun achieved.

Assume expression: smile.

"By the time I'm finished with them, sir, the Merchants will be demanding a refund."

Vocal expression from allies 'Victor', 'Othala', 'Rune', 'Crusader': laughter.

Facial expression from allies 'Kaiser', 'Alabaster', 'Menja', 'Fenja': smile.

"Well spoken, Remote." Kaiser steepled his fingers together. "That's settled then. Does anyone have any other business they want to bring up?"

"So you're really going after the Merchants?" Peter closed and feinted at my face; I ducked out of the way, only to catch his foot in my stomach. He pulled the blow as much as he could, but it still kind of knocked the wind out of me, and I sat down hard on the mat.

"Whoof, yeah," I said, rubbing my solar plexus gently. "No fair, you said we weren't going to be doing any kicking." I tried not to let a complaining note enter my voice, but I did feel a little put upon.

"No, what I said was that you weren't going to be learning how to kick," he corrected me, leaning down and offering his hand. I accepted, and he pulled me easily to my feet. "Kicking's not the easiest thing in the world to learn, and it's one of the fastest ways to find yourself on your ass. I will be teaching you how to recognise a kick before it comes at you, though."

"Now you tell me," I said, wrinkling my nose at him. "Peter, I love you dearly, but you're way too intense when it comes to teaching me how to fight."

"Taylor." He put his hands on my shoulders. I looked into his piercing blue eyes, and sighed internally. When he gave me 'that' look, I was powerless to disagree with him.

I looked at the floor. "I said something stupid again, didn't I?" I might be a cape, and technically his superior in the Empire, but he knew a lot more about how it ran than I did, so I was definitely willing to listen to him about what was going on. And besides, I knew Peter would never get angry with me; he'd had too many chances before now. But it was fun to pretend that I thought he was angry; him being extra nice to me was … well, really nice. Even though I couldn't help but suspect that he knew exactly what I was doing anyway.

"Not stupid. Never stupid." He sighed, and used one hand to tilt my chin up to look at him. "Taylor, you're the exact opposite of stupid. But there's no sense in being anything other than totally dedicated about learning how to fight. If you're not paying attention, then you're going to get hurt a little now or a lot later on, when the fight's for real. You get what I'm saying?" His voice was patient and loving while managing to avoid being patronising.

Slowly, I nodded. "Yeah, I get it. If I'm gonna do this, I've gotta learn to do it right. And 'dedicated' is the right way to learn how to fight." I stepped forward and put my arms around him. He reciprocated, embracing me warmly. I thought about kissing him, but there was a strong chance that if I did that, we'd never get back to training. So instead I held him tightly, shutting my eyes and enjoying the closeness.

"Besides," he murmured into my ear, "if you think my training is intense, you don't ever want to train under Hookwolf." His breath tickled, and I felt shivers down my spine. I wriggled and pressed a little more closely to him.

"Yeah, he offered," I said softly. "Pass, thanks." I was pretty sure that I wouldn't get hugs and kind words from the greasy-haired Changer; nor did I want them from him. Ew. Just ew.

"Okay," he decided after a few more moments of just standing there, "time to get back to training."

He loosened his grip on me, but I refused to do the same. "Do we have to?" I was trying not to sound like I was complaining, but I had been enjoying just being with Peter.

"Well," he murmured with a grin in his voice, "I could always start tickling you." I thought I felt his fingers start to ghost along my ribs …

"Eep!" I yelped, breaking my grip and leaping backward. "Hands off, buster!" While I enjoyed most forms of physical contact with Peter – those that I'd tried, that is, which didn't include any sort of adults-only activity, thank you very much – we had found that Peter was extremely adept at finding my ticklish spots, whereas I was only mediocre at finding his. So he had an unfair advantage in any tickle war.

"Make me," he suggested, advancing on me with intent. I backed away for a few steps, then realised that was what Peter wanted me to do. Once you have your opponent backing up, it's not long before they retreat or surrender.

So I stopped and shaped up; when Peter got close enough, I threw a punch which hit him in the shoulder. He reached for me again, so I punched him in the chest. This time, he backed up a little. "Perfect," he said cheerfully. "If someone's coming at you, you stand your ground and stop 'em hard. Rock them back on their heels and make them wonder if it's really worth coming at you again."

That had seemed a little too easy. "You let me hit you, didn't you?" I accused him.

He smirked. "I plead the Fifth. But, if it's any consolation, pretty soon I won't have to. You're starting to show a little bit of form, which is good." He smiled broadly as he tapped his shoulder and chest. "Good solid hits. I felt them both."

I felt a surge of pride at his praise. Peter didn't lie about this sort of thing.

"So now let's see if you can do it again," he went on. "But this time I'll be defending." He brought up his hands in the now-familiar posture that he had been patiently teaching me.

Oh boy. This, I knew, was going to be a whole lot harder.

That Evening
Coil's Base

"Unit Six here. I have eyes on primary and secondary targets. On Boardwalk, just passing McKendrick Street, over." The voice on the phone tried to sound detached, but Calvert could hear the suppressed excitement.

He sat up straight in his chair. "This is Coil. Any other Empire personnel on site, over?"

Unit Six did not take long to reply. "Affirmative. There's a loose cordon around them, not wearing colours. I count ten. Not drawing attention, over."

"Trail and observe. Do not intercept. I say again, do not intercept, over." Adrenaline washed through his body. Two days of searching almost everywhere, and the targets were spotted walking on the Boardwalk of all places.

"Trail and observe, do not intercept, roger. Unit Six, out." The call ended, and Coil began checking the map to see where his other units were. He didn't intend to use half-measures here.

This was, of course, only half of what he was doing. In another line of reality, he had proceeded downtown and was watching a play. A pretentious piece of crap in his opinion, but it was something to pass the time and to keep his options open. And nobody would notice, or even mind, if he seemed to be zoned out while the play was going on.

Carefully, methodically, he began calling in his other units, the farthest ones first. By the time he finished, he intended to have that area of the Boardwalk saturated with his men. It would not be quiet or subtle by any stretch of the imagination, but he would be fine with dropping even a successful operation if he could get the information he wanted from it first.

One by one, his men began to call in, reporting that they were in place. Some had eyes on the couple, others had eyes on the obvious and not so obvious Empire members scattered around, and a few of his men were hanging back in case someone tried to make a run for it. The young couple seemed to be oblivious to it all, strolling hand in hand along the Boardwalk. If they were talking, nobody could hear what they were saying.

After half an hour that seemed to stretch into eternity, the last man was in place. There was now a cordon around Ferguson and the Hebert girl that was three men deep; four, in some places. His men knew their business; nobody crowded too close or gathered in groups. He spoke in a measured voice, detailing targets to each of his men. For him to capture the young couple, each of the Empire thugs would have to be neutralised first. Dialling in a conference call, he waited until the connections went through, then spoke a single word. "Go."

Each of his men was wearing a body cam, combined with GPS technology, he was able to place them on the boardwalk, and see what was happening in front of them. From the moment he spoke, suppressed shots dropped nearly all the Empire goons in approximately two seconds. The last few survivors got off shots that killed two of his men and wounded three more, before they were cut down.

By this time, Ferguson and Hebert were running toward the oncoming cordon. The boy had a pistol out; the girl was unarmed but she seemed unafraid. Coil frowned. There was something wrong here. Is this a suicide play? "Arm and leg shots," he ordered. "Take them alive."

The boy fired at the nearest of Coil's men, dropping him. Damn. He's good. In the time it took for Coil to think that, another two men went down. The girl was bending over one of the dead goons, rummaging at his waist. But Coil's men were taking aim now; they had not been able to bring their rifles on to the Boardwalk, due to concealability issues, but they were trained in pistol combat as well. Their targets were stationary; basically, they were asking to be shot. But no shots were fired, except by Ferguson, who was calmly picking off the men as they came running at him.

"Shoot, I said," snapped Coil. He began to suspect that this situation was starting to go out of control.

"Unit four here. We're trying. Our guns aren't firing." On Four's body-cam, Taylor Hebert straightened up with a pistol in each hand. Pointing her arms straight out in two different directions, she began to fire both pistols as fast as the actions would cycle. Coil leaned back in his chair. There's no way she can hit anything without even … He blinked, and looked again at the screen. One after another, his men were falling like ninepins. More than half of his assault force mowed down by two teenagers! How the fuck is she doing that?

"Reserve force, you're up," he ordered. "Rifles from long range. Tranq rounds. Keep firing until we know they're down." He hadn't wanted to use tranq rounds before now because the formulation had different effects on targets of different body mass, and Ferguson was a totally different kettle of fish to his skinny girlfriend. A shot that would drop the boy might well kill the girl; alternatively, something that would put her into dreamland might only make him woozy.

However, he had also entertained the possibility that some unforeseen circumstance might cause problems with the main force, so he had set up the reserve force with rifles, concealed in cars parked across the road from the Boardwalk. It was a long shot for tranq rounds, but it was a very useful hole card to be able to play.

"Reserve force, roger. Readying tranq rounds now. We have eyes on, we have eyes on. Do we have a green light, over?" At last, something that was going to go right. Behind the cloth of his mask, Coil smiled.

"Green light. I say again, green light. Over." He clicked the mouse button to select the camera attached to the spotter scope looking out through the car window. On it, he saw the Hebert girl shoot one of his men in the head, allowing Ferguson to scoop up his fallen pistol and shoot two more.

"Green light, roger. Firing now." Coil leaned forward to watch. Torturing her for information was going to be fun. He waited for the shot.

"Weapon jam, I say again, weapon jam. Applying immediate action." The spotter scope was jostled slightly, but on it, Coil saw the Hebert girl turn to look directly into the camera. Her lips moved, saying something. He wasn't great at lip-reading, but it seemed to be 'go away'. Abruptly, the viewpoint was moving sideways. "Hey, what …?"

"Reserve force, reserve force. Report status, over." He tried not to clutch the phone too tightly in his hand. I need to upgrade her threat status immediately.

The voice that came through was the spotter. "Reserve force reporting. Status is that we are moving. Nobody is driving, but the car is definitely moving. Over." There was a hint of concern in the man's voice, but he wasn't panicking, yet.

"Abandon vehicle," Coil ordered. "Reserve force, abandon vehicle asap. I say again, abandon vehicle. Over." This timeline was lost, Coil knew, but he had to find out the limits of the Hebert girl's powers. Everything he learned in this timeline was something he could use the next time around.

"Abandoning vehicle, roger." The spotter scope was dropped, to point at one of the doors. A hand came into view, yanking at the door handle to no good effect. "Unable to abandon vehicle. I say again, unable to abandon vehicle. Over." Now the man was definitely afraid. The vehicle must have swerved, because the camera rolled over and fell on the floor of the car.

"Oh shiii -!" That came from the sniper, but Coil could not see why he was screaming. There was a booming crash, and the camera rattled around so fast that he felt queasy watching the image. When it stilled, he could not make sense of the image at first, until he tilted his head sideways. The camera seemed to be stuck under the car seat, pointing at the left ear of one of his men. How the man ended up in that position, he had no idea.

There was little more that he could glean from that timeline, so he dropped it. The play droned on; checking the program, he decided that he hadn't missed much, even when he'd been distracted. And he would continue to be distracted, until he had figured out both what her abilities were and how to overcome them. As he pondered, he split the timelines again. In one line, he stayed to watch the rest of the play. In the other, he went back to his car, to return to his base. Once the play was over, that version of him would go home. Time for Plan B. If I can't get control of her, she's too dangerous to leave alive.

Boardwalk

Leaning on the rail, I smiled as Peter gallantly draped his jacket over my shoulders. "Thank you," I murmured, leaning up against him. Truth be told, it wasn't that cold, but I did enjoy the little extra warmth, and I especially enjoyed the tiny gestures of attentiveness that he paid me. As his arm went around me, I snuggled into him.

"You're welcome, Taylor," he replied. His voice held amusement as he went on. "So, was I right or was I wrong?" I could feel the smugness coming off of him. But if I was to be honest with myself, he had kind of earned it.

"You were right," I conceded. "Yes, I expected someone to point me out and make a scene. But it's like nothing even happened here. No superheroes, no PRT. Not even a traffic cop." It was kind of weird. The image that the PRT and Protectorate tried to project was that of incorruptible, relentless vigilance; I had been apprehensive about going out, on the grounds that I would be recognised and challenged before we walked ten yards. So far, the outing had been kind of anticlimactic. Which I didn't mind in the slightest.

When I came to think about it, though, it kind of made sense. The PRT only had so many people. So did the Protectorate. And if they were covering areas known for their crime rates, they weren't covering other areas. Which, right then, I was kind of grateful for. While the rooms that I shared with Dad weren't precisely a rat-infested dungeon, and I had all the companionship that I wanted (especially with Peter) it was still nice to get out and about. I had missed the open air.

Unfortunately, until I managed to clear up the misunderstanding about Dad and Panacea and Victor and Glory Girl, I was almost certainly wanted as an accessory or for aiding and abetting or something similar. I didn't know the exact term, but I was sure that the PRT or even the ordinary police wanted to have words with me, probably with the phrase 'under arrest' in there somewhere.

And it wasn't even my fault. Nor was it Victor's fault. Glory Girl had made it perfectly clear that she wasn't listening to reason, so while violence against her was doomed to failure, giving her something else to worry about (such as a lightly injured Panacea) was a perfectly valid tactic. Not that I had wanted the healer to get hurt, especially after saving Dad's life, but every other solution to the situation risked either too much collateral damage or capture at Glory Girl's hands. Or, of course, both.

"Well, the Boardwalk is more or less the last place that anyone would expect to find someone the police want to talk to," he observed. "It's a really public place, but at the same time it's extremely private, if only because there's such a lot of it. You can't really surveil a place like this without either being obvious about it, or leaving gaps in the coverage." He spoke with authority, but I thought I heard familiar phrasing in what he was saying.

"Is that you, or are you quoting someone?" I asked, reaching up to take his hand. His fingers immediately closed over mine, and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Uncle Max, mainly," he confessed. "A lot of people in his position let the power go to their heads, and lean on their powers for everything. He's always careful, thinking about mundane ways to deal with problems. I admire that a lot in him." His voice was meditative as he continued. "He once told Father, when neither of them knew I was listening, that I was his choice to lead the Empire, if and when I gained powers, and once I was old enough. Ever since then, I've done my best to learn how to be a good leader. Now I'm wondering if that accidental slip was so accidental after all."

I had to chuckle; turning, I kissed him fondly, my lips only partly meeting his, but not caring. "Peter, your uncle is one of the smartest men I know. He had to have seen the potential in you from the beginning. I see it every day. I see his influence in you all the time."

He sighed and turned his hand so that his fingers laced through mine. "I don't think he'd be so confident in me if he saw the way I doubt myself all the time. I'm constantly second-guessing myself. What if I'd brought more people to rescue you? What if I hadn't brought Jenna? Did I kill my friends through my stupidity? Did I nearly get you killed by being your boyfriend?" His cheek rubbed against my hair. "You're the only person I can even say this sort of thing to any more. I need a reality check. If I'm screwing up, please tell me." His voice, low enough to not be heard by the surrounding bodyguards, was almost pleading at the end.

I felt awed and humbled that Peter, whom I admired above almost all else and wanted to spend my life with, was opening his heart and unveiling his secret fears to me. Letting go his hand, I turned and wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. I wanted to give him the sort of kiss that my grandfather had once referred to as 'requirin' an engagement ring' but I didn't quite have the nerve to do that in front of the men who stood around at odd distances, ostensibly enjoying the night air.

Instead, I whispered to him as intensely as I could. "Peter. Jenna was my best friend. I liked Bronson almost as much as I love you. Yes, they're both dead, and Dad's still in a coma, but it's not your fucking fault. You did the best you could with what you had, and as a result, we're both still alive, George is still alive, and you've proven that you're as good a leader as the Empire is ever likely to get." He went to speak, but I rushed on. "Your uncle isn't stupid. He's seen what sort of a leader you are. If he'd thought you'd failed, you would know it. Tell me that isn't true."

Peter stood silent for the space of two long breaths. Then he kissed me. I closed my eyes as fireworks flashed in my brain and I was sure that my toes were curling. By the time it ended, I was kind of breathless, but my heart was as calm as it had ever been. He held me tightly, and I returned the gesture. He had given me his answer, and shown his gratitude, in that one kiss.

"Taylor." His voice was a whisper, his eyes searching out mine in the moonlit dimness. "I have two things to tell you. I'm pretty sure that I'm not cleared to tell you either one, but I can't do this any more. I can't lie to you. If we're going to be a couple, if you're going to be my wife when we're old enough, then I want it to be because you know and accept the truth, not because we've been lying to you all this time."

His words sent a chill down my spine, even as my mind exulted, he wants me to be his wife! "Peter, what are you saying? Are we in danger?"

He grimaced. "No, but I'd prefer you hate me and leave me now rather than you hate me and leave me because you found out after years of living a lie with me." I felt his fists clench as they rested at my back. "Just please understand, I never wanted to hurt you. Not ever."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," I said softly. "If you think what what you have to say will make me hate you, then never say it. I don't want to hear it." I tried to convince myself that was true, even though a sharp, suspicious part of me wondered what he was talking about.

He took a deep breath, then let it out. His voice was sad. "I can't just drop it. One thing I learned from Uncle Max is that you can betray your enemies, but you can never betray your allies. Taylor … I first approached you because I wanted to get you close to the Empire, not because I was interested in you, personally." He paused, as if expecting me to punch him or something.

I raised my chin. "Let me stop you right there. You wanted to present a fait accompli to Dad, that you and the Empire were protecting me from the bullies, and maybe he would look more favourably on the Empire? Maybe let them form closer ties with the Dockworkers?" It was one of three scenarios that I had worked out. Unworkable of course, but looking back, I could see how they might have thought it possible. "You do realise that Dad would have shot any idea like that down in a heartbeat."

"Yeah, I know that now," he agreed ruefully. "I can see where you get your stubbornness from. But … you aren't pissed at me?" He looked puzzled.

"Oh, yeah, I'm pissed." I rolled my eyes. "I'm so goddamn pissed that the idiot who was supposed to be manipulating me to influence my father went and fell in love with me, and saved me from the bullies anyway." My voice was as flat as I could make it. "You maybe didn't stop to think that I'm even more insecure than you are, and I've already been through every possible scenario in my mind as to why someone like you was choosing to spend time with someone like me? And that I just might have figured that one out and decided that even if it was true, it was no longer valid, and having you in my life is fucking worth it?"

He winced at the cutting sarcasm in my voice. "Um … no?"

I pushed back away from him, and prodded him in the chest with my knuckle, hard enough to hurt. To his credit, he didn't step back, although he did wince. I was pretty sure I'd gotten him on a bruise. Good. "So how stupid do you think I am anyway, Mister Ferguson?"

That was a huge, yawning pit trap, right there. Fortunately for Peter's future well-being, he didn't step into it. "I don't think you're stupid. I've just been a monumental idiot. I've been telling Uncle Max how smart you were, and all the while I've been forgetting that you are actually that smart."

I chuckled hollowly and shook my head. "Peter, seriously? You're lucky I'm here now to bail you out of shit like this. You're handsome, you're smart, you're charismatic, your family's loaded as fuck, and you've got the makings of a great leader … but your timing sucks." Grabbing him by the shoulders, I shook him a little.

"My … timing?" He sounded as bewildered as if he'd just wandered on to a movie set and been handed a script and told to get on with it.

"My Dad, you idiot." I shook him some more, hoping it would jolt his brain into gear. "Currently under care in your uncle's own medical facility? Remember him? The only thing that's letting him get better is Kaiser's goodwill and Othala's power?"

"Oh. Fuck." The sound of belated realisation in his voice was almost worth the irritation. "Shit. I'm sorry."

I rolled my eyes again. "If I'd decided just now that I couldn't work with the Empire any more because oh, the betrayal," I essayed a theatrical groan and put the back of my hand to my forehead, "where exactly would I take him where he could get anything like competent care while making sure that the PRT wouldn't be on my ass twenty-four hours of the day? The fucking PRT, that's where. And the very last people I want to be beholden to is that hot mess of assholes and race traitors. So if you really wanted me to have a fair choice, you could have at least waited until Dad was up and around again."

He lowered his eyes, his shoulders slumping. "Taylor. I am so sorry. I never meant to put you through all that.." He sounded … defeated. Like all of his pride had just been dragged out of him and stomped flat.

"Hey." My voice was quiet. "It's all right." He glanced up at me as if to see whether I meant it, and I lifted one corner of my mouth in a half-smile. "I'm still here, I still love you for some unfathomable reason, and yes, you big dope, I do want to marry you someday. No matter how much you fuck up, I will support you every day of your life. So long as you admit it when you do fuck up. And trust me, I'll be there to point it out to you because I love you." And I did. Despite all the twists and turns in our relationship, that was one constant. Once he fell in love with me, he was there for me, no matter what. Just as I would be there for him.

"Wow, Taylor, holy shit." He sounded like a condemned man pardoned at the eleventh hour. Moving a few steps to a seat, he slid down into it, as if his knees would no longer support him. Although there was plenty of room beside him, I chose to seat myself across his lap.

"Yes?" I asked sweetly. Watching Peter flail like this was kind of entertaining. I put my arms around his neck. Well trained, he put his arms around my waist. Good boy.

He shook his head. "Uncle Max has one thing wrong. He thinks I'm the one in charge of this relationship. Please don't ever tell him differently?"

I giggled. "I respect the man immensely, but he is kind of patriarchal. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." Well, it was our secret, but much the same thing. I kicked my legs gently back and forth. "So, there was a second thing you wanted to tell me?"

He drew a deep breath. "After you hauled me over the coals for the first one, I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"Peter." I fixed him with a steady gaze. "Will it make me want to leave?" I devoutly hoped that it would not be a second secret like the first one.

He frowned in concentration. "I don't think so. In fact, if anything, it will make you more likely to want to stay."

"So tell me." I gazed at him expectantly.

"I'm not sure …"

I had rarely seen him so indecisive. This was not the time for indecision. "Peter. Yes or no. Tell me what it is, or ask me to forget that you told me it existed."

"Right." He drew a deep breath and made a high sign; all the Empire guys faded back until they were definitely out of earshot. "You know how Uncle Max has two lieutenants?" It was his turn to give me an expectant look.

"Krieg and Hookwolf, yes. Purity used to be one, before she left." I had spoken with Krieg, very briefly. He struck me as someone with a lot of reserve. Hookwolf, on the other hand, was a savage in civilised clothing. He made no secret of who or what he was. Which was someone I didn't like and didn't want to know. But at least he didn't try to bully me. "What about it?"

To his credit, he didn't hesitate. "He approached me yesterday, and asked me about you. It was meant to be casual conversation, but Uncle Max never does casual conversation. I figured out afterward that he might have been sounding me out about the possibility of making you into his third lieutenant."

"Me?" To my mortification, I was so stunned that my voice squeaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Me? Why me? I'm the newest member, for fuck's sake!"

"My guess? Because you're the most powerful new member," he said, quite accurately. "Also, you're young, and any new members we get after you are also likely to be young. So it makes sense that he'd want someone in a position of command who can relate to the new members. And, like I said before, he was really impressed about how you went after Lung with a pistol." He grinned at the expression on my face.

I finally managed to pick up my jaw again. "But … but …"

"But wait, there's more," he announced, mock-portentously. "As a brand new trigger, you were faced with Lung and Oni Lee. You not only survived, but you managed to think on your feet and beat the crap out of both of them. You think fast, and you make the right decisions. Uncle Max likes that a lot." He hugged me to him, and kissed my earlobe. "I am so goddamn proud of you."

"Great." I managed to fake anger well enough to make him pull back and stare at me. "Thanks a bunch, you monumental idiot." His jaw to dropped in turn, and it was all I could do not to snicker out loud at the look on his face.

"What?" he asked plaintively. "It's a good thing, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but now I've got to pretend to be surprised when he springs this on me. Do you have any idea how hard that's gonna be?" A moment later, I burst out laughing at the look on his face.

"You totally had me going." His expression was rueful. "I really believed you were pissed at me."

I let myself snicker out loud, then I kissed him. "I know. It was fun."

"You are an evil, evil woman." This did not stop him from kissing me back, something that I had been counting on.

"Well, duh." I snuggled with him. Interestingly enough, now that the air had been somewhat cleared, I felt more at ease with him than ever. Sometimes, knowing that your idol had feet of clay took away the unreasonable expectations. I wasn't going to argue with that.

A cold breeze swept in, and I shivered, even inside the coat. "Wow, there's a bit of a nip in the air."

"Nah, that's just what they said when you blew Lung's arm off," he countered with a grin, miming a ballistic arc with one hand, and making the sound of something whistling through the air then hitting the ground.

The joke was terrible, but I couldn't help laughing. "You've been listening to your dad again, haven't you?" One thing was for sure; that wasn't one of Kaiser's. Kaiser didn't do jokes. Especially 'Dad' jokes.

"Guilty as charged," he replied with a smirk. "Want to head back to the car? I mean, I'm good to keep going if you are, but it is getting a bit cold." He would go with whatever I chose, I knew for a fact. Peter would hobble on bloody stumps before he would admit to not being able to keep up.

"That's a good idea, actually," I said. "I think I've had enough fresh air for tonight. And you proved your point. Nothing ever happens down at the Boardwalk." I got up off his lap and took his hand once he got up. His presence made me feel safe and secure.

"Can I quote you on that?" he asked ingenuously. I saw a grin spreading across his face.

"What? Nothing ever happens on the Boardwalk?" I raised my eyebrows. "Why would you want to quote that?"

"No." He chuckled. "That I proved my point. You're about the only one of my girlfriends who ever let me have the last word on something." His tone was light, but his eyes said much more.

I could have made a comment about a stopped clock or a blind squirrel, but I didn't. I just smiled and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

"Let's go home," he said quietly.

"Let's," I agreed.

End of Part Sixteen